Baker's Daylilies

'Old Barnyard Rooster'

I think, today on Garden Musings, we'll just let the photos of  these 13 beautiful daylilies speak for themselves, borrowing, without shame, the meme of a fellow blogger who does a "Wordless Wednesday."  I captured these images walking along the border bed in back of the house all in about 20 minutes on a single morning (7/12/2025) as the sun rose. Which is your favorite?

'Prairie Blue Eyes'

'Timbercreek Ace'

'Awfully Flashy'

'Beautiful Edging'

'Storm Shadows'

'Big Rex'

'Blackberry Sherbet'

'Cosmic Struggle'

'Cream Desire'

'Joan Derifield'

'Laura Harwood'

'McBeth'

 

Singular Fleetation

ProfessorRoush was nonchalantly driving through Manhattan Thursday when, near downtown, I passed this tremendous, floriferous display of Hibiscus on a street corner.   My first thought was "Oh, how beautiful!"   My second was "Oh how unusual!"  And my third thought was "There's a message here that I've got to blog about." 

I was instantly captivated by the bravery of the unknown designer; instead of landscaping the corner for four-season structure and color with, for example, a common and unexciting planting of purple barberry, gold-tipped or blue-hued evergreens, and glaring yellow 'Stella de Oro' daylilies, some audacious landscaper or gardener had chosen to make this corner eye-catching for only a brief seasonal moment, for the relatively brief bloom period of this magnificent blushing Hibiscus.   Indeed, given the 95ºF heat and searing sun of this mid-July day, this could conceivably have been the peak hour of this grouping in the entire year, the blooms wilted beyond recovery shortly thereafter.  

These cheery Hibiscus were blatantly placed to flirt with the passing traffic, the horticultural equivalent of sticking a shapely, sheer-stockinged leg out to catch the driver's eye, sultry Sirens luring unwary road warriors off the pavement.  And I was not immune to their allure, braking to grab an iPhone photo, and then circling the block for another, and yet another, risking a collision and not caring, lost in wonderment.

Unusual.  Singular. Fleeting. Flirting.  I hereby dub this and similar displays to be "Fleetations";  fleeting flirtations intended to enthrall passing foot and automobile traffic.   "Fleetation," defined as "short-lived coquetry intended to capture attention." And there it is, my legacy for the world, a new English term perfectly fitting the moment and this display. "Fleetation".

My point is this:  instead of a conventional and ultimately unremarkable landscaping choice, the bold visionary responsible here chose to trade mediocrity and longevity for exceptionality and temporality; to replace apathy and artlessness with passion and perfection.  By doing so, the artist is rebelling against "modern" landscape norms and, why not?  The real purpose of space decoration is to prompt joy, invoke happiness, and display beauty, and all those goals were clearly accomplished here.   It may not be "four-season interest", but it did serve its purpose and it both drew my attention and elicited my admiration.  I tip my hat to thee, unknown genius, and I vow to explore the unique and unorthodox in my own garden; to create a world there more pleasing to me and less encumbered by what others think it should be.

Photographic Evidence

ProfessorRoush is absolutely certain, 100% positively sure, that other avid amateur photographers/ gardeners/ astronomers/ BIRDERS have looked at the countless advertisements for those inexpensive telephoto lenses that can be attached to your phones to take perfect pictures of distant objects and wondered "do they really work?"  I'm a little eccentric, yes, but I am fully aware that I'm not uniquely unhinged and that I'm in good company in all my hobby interests.  Besides, you know as well as I do that if you pause a second at a photo of a bird on, say, Facebook, the social site will then follow up with an ad for a telephoto lens to tempt you, and if you pause again, then God Help You;  you'll be bombarded with similar ads for weeks.

My recent trip to the Quivera National Wildlife Refuge awakened a desire to have a real telephoto lens on a digital camera, to be able in a few months to reach out and photograph Sandhill cranes from across the salt marshes, but I'm just too cheap to spend multiple thousands of dollars right away on a lens for my Nikon.  So, I got to thinking about these little iPhone lenses and soon purchased one:  this one.   The $72 package contained the lens, iPhone mount, lens cap, and a little light tripod.

In due time, it came in and I began exploring what it can do.  The actual 30X lens is heavy and feels well-made, and the mount lets you switch from vertical to horizontal format without detaching the camera.  Surprisingly, if you know a little photography and have a good tripod, the pictures from this thing are not half-bad.  There is a bit of a learning curve, and it is imperative that your iPhone camera is set at 2X or you get a "vignette" photo, but the images are passable for the cost. 

This house finch photo was taken during my learning phase last weekend through the closed kitchen window and I took all the other  photos on the page with the camera and phone on a tripod out the window within a 5 minute timespan yesterday evening.  I was excited when the red-bellied woodpecker made an appearance.  The photo below, taken without the lens through the window and with the iPhone camera set at "1X" gives you an idea of the power of the lens.   I've circled the distant garden bench in red and the near feeder and red rose ('Hope for Humanity") in white.  The yellow thistle feeder is the small one to the right of the red rose.

So, the APEXEL lens is a decent tool and a cheap tool at that, and I got what I hoped for and expected;  a chance to capture reasonable photos of some distant wildlife up close and personal.   I'm satisfied, yes, but I also now know, with certainty, absolutely 100% certainty, that I'll use this lens this fall, be mildly satisfied and yet mildly dissatisfied, and likely, by spring, I'll be the owner of a massive and expensive telephoto lens for my Nikon D3300 digital camera.  

Maybe, however, I'll try to grab a few photos of the next full moon first.  This garden bench is about the same apparent width at that distance.

Lily Daze

These are the days when ProfessorRoush stumbles out each morning and is dazzled by the sight of his tall, statuesque Oriental and Orientpet lilies, lured to them around the corner of the garage by their strong fragrance carried on the morning breeze.  My daily first chore of letting Bella out and making sure she attends to her business away from the house is much more pleasant while the lilies are in bloom.

The Orientpets and Orientals and Trumpet lilies bloom with the daylilies here, temporarily stealing the show from their more diminutive cousins, the former groups taller, larger, more fragrant, and simply more voluptuous than the latter.  One can look into these bountiful blossoms and lose oneself in their perfection as they open.  Lost too, you can become, if you breathe in that heavy perfume too deeply; it is overwhelming up close and cloying and some say almost sickening.  I myself enjoy the fragrance of Oriental lilies and Orientpets outside where it is diluted by flowing air, but one blossom inside a room can be too much for me.

I think of all these lilies pictured here as Orientpet lilies, but, in fact they're not.  'Yellow Dream', prevalent in the picture below, is just a tall and tough Oriental lily, while 'Purple Prince', pictured above, is a bonafide Orientpet cross.  The pure white lily here is perhaps an Oriental whose name I've lost, but I also have some "Lily Regale Album', a mostly white Chinese Trumpet lily with a very light yellow throat.  

'Yellow Dream'

As I view these lilies, I feel only sorrow for the unimaginative breeders who chose the name "Orientpet" for these crosses between Oriental and Chinese Trumpet lilies.   Viewing them, one wants a better name, more memorable, more intense.  Offhand, however, I can't do any better.  "Marvelous Lilies",  "Wondrous Lilies," Astounding Lilies" and just plain "Gosh Wow Lilies" are the best I could think of.

They're here and they're gone, fabulous flowers fading, browning and dropping and then the dark green foliage become merely a backdrop for the daylilies that outlast them.  Thankfully, they're nearly trouble free here in Kansas, untouched by disease, left alone by rabbits and beetles, and viewed as a moderate delicacy only by brave deer.   In my front yard, near the house, they're safe, but in the far beds of my yard the buds are eaten before they bloom.

What I need more of, perhaps, are 'Kaveri', which seems to be one of the least troublesome of all the bulbs I grow.  I'm still not crazy about the brash colors of this Asiatic and Oriental lily cross, but it has proliferated on its own and maintains a presence in my backyard even in the shade of a volunteer Redbud.  I'll give the glaring red-orange-yellow a pass, lighting up the shade as it does, but it still lacks the fragrance and elegance of Orientals and some "Gosh Wow" Orientpets.

Maybe, just maybe, I also should be less picky and more thankful for what survives the Kansas climate. 

  

Addendum:   And just this morning, fully opening after a small rain shower, the luscious watermelon pink of Orientpet 'Robina'.  The photo doesn't do this plate-sized bloom enough justice!

Popillia Repopulation

'Marie Bugnet' with Japanese Beetle

Once again the annual plague has returned, defiling, defecating and fornicating in ProfessorRoush's garden; the Popillia japonica, better known as Japanese Beetles, are back along with the summer heat.  This time, however, I am ready for the hell-borne horde.

I saw my first, a lone male, just 6 days ago, a single beetle on 'Blanc Double de Coubert', and easily hand-picked from the bush.   I carefully placed that advance scout lovingly onto a nearby stone and then stomped it to oblivion.  I've been scouting, watching and waiting, and here it was at last, the waiting over, the battle enjoined.  This year I'm also cheating early, because the bushes that await them are, I hope, poisoned platforms for them, luring them into the embrace of waiting, long-acting pyrethrins that promised 3 months of protection on its label.  I sprayed them 2 weeks ago in hopes of eliminating the first hatchlings.

'Lambert Closse' with Japanese Beetle

Yesterday, despite my hope for a low enemy turnout, I noticed the full army had arrived and, in twos and threes and fours, were staging orgies in the best rose blooms available all over the garden.  I had vowed to trust completely in the residual action of a pesticide that promised death of and is specifically labeled for Japanese Beetles, but when I found them still alive and copulating, on pure, virginal 'Marie Bugnet' and perfectly pink 'Lambert Closse', I abandoned my resolve and I confess that I resprayed the most prolifically-blooming roses, bolstering their protection and acutely killing the indecent squatters.  

'Lambert Closse' 06/26/2025, pre-beetle

I've already become quite fond of 'Lambert Closse', you see.  In her first nearly mature summer, she has, so far, bloomed continually, keeping those clear pink flowers on display (yes, I'm aware the namesake of this rose was a famous male Canadian explorer, but the bloom is female to its core and it even forms hips after it blooms).   She's a lanky rose, a tall, awkward lass, with several massive canes sprawling in all directions, but she is beautiful nonetheless and I can overlook her poor posture as long as she blooms and stays healthy.  And I refuse to allow a bunch of bugs to make her their simultaneous coital bed, toilet and food pantry.

Pray with me, please, that Japanese Beetles don't evolve and begin to include daylilies in their diets.  No matter their sins, no gardener deserves such horror.  

Hunter Tribute

ProfessorRoush is trying his best this year to bring Garden Musings back to its focus on my first love (beyond, of course, the beautiful Mrs. ProfessorRoush!); roses.   In that spirit, he has compiled a number of comments, thoughts and photos from the just-finished first flush of blooms, and would like to start by updating my assessment of a previously-discussed rose; the Hybrid Rugosa 'Hunter'.

My specimen of 'Hunter', planted in 1999 in my front landscape bed, seemed to peak during the 2012 season.   As I recall, its decline started after damage by an ice storm in 2015, and, surrounded by a bright red Monarda and burgundy Knautia macedonia, it struggled to compete, lingered and seemed weaker each season, and finally perished in 2017 or 2018.  Although I'm not sure if competition, poor sunlight, or old age contributed the most to 'Hunter's loss (or all three, equally) I can state with some confidence that the rose never showed any signs of Rose Rosette Disease and it remained only minimally affected by blackspot.  

I'll spare you the over-enthusiastic attempt at a poetic tribute this time, but  I missed 'Hunter' enough that I replanted a small band in 2022, this time in a more southern exposure, protected from the north winter winds by the house and near my bedroom window where I would see it more often, although the new site is also subject to more severe crosswinds and the ground is more dry in that area.  

Once again, the second coming of 'Hunter' in its now third season has grown into a spectacle, as you can see in these first 4 photos.   These were taken during first bloom cycle of 'Hunter'-2, around the 2nd week of May, when it opened every bud and petal all at once, a mass of "almost crimson", and became a show-stopper at the end of my back patio.   At 2.5 feet tall and 4 feet wide, it seems to be reaching full adulthood and is enjoying the current spot.  It shows absolutely no disease and had no winter dieback these past two winters.  

And now, 5 weeks later, it appears to be heading into another bloom cycle, slightly less flamboyant on its own, but this time accompanied not by 'John Cabot' and 'Konigin von Danemark' behind it, but by the daylilies 'Bubblegum Delicious' (left) and a yellow-green spider daylily whose name I've lost to history.  'Hunter' has also sprouted a couple of vigorous new canes that are reaching higher.  I can't wait to see what it does next!

(Non sequitur; has anyone else noticed that the iPhone 16 seems to have better representation of the reds than previous iPhones and digital cameras?  I'm much happier with the red tones of digital pictures these days!)

HollyHock Homage

Well, the Hollyhocks survived the critters and wind!  ProfessorRoush has a large patch of self-seeded, self-hybridized Alcea rosea which range from deep black (I started with the 'Black Beauty' cultivar) to blood-red to clear, perfect pink.  I don't plant or cultivate them in any way except to allow them to sprout where I think they won't elbow out adjacent perennials and to spray them, as noted in a recent blog, with deer deterrents.  My favorite colors are the brighter reds like the photo to the right, although all colors are welcome here even as they attempt to smother a couple of Old Garden Roses and my Kon-Tiki Head statue (which can be seen peeking out here and there in the photos).  And now, unusually for ProfessorRoush and GardenMusings, I think I'll shut up and let the Hollyhocks speak for themselves.

Natives Now

The prairie is full of native flowers blooming in early June.  Just a walk around the perimeter of my mowed area allowed me to capture all these.  ProfessorRoush is going to keep the gab to a minimum today, although I'll still identify each for you.  And while I do, be thinking....what characteristic do all these plants have in common?  There will be a quiz at the end.

This photo is of the low-growing Catclaw Sensitive Briar (Mimosa quadrivalvis), a member of the Fabaceae (or Bean family), so named because of the prickly pods that catch exposed ankles as you walk by, and for the delicate leaflets that fold when touched.  It has a long bloom period and can be seen blooming over most of May and June.

Of similar color, the Illinois Tickclover (Desmodium illinoense) is another Fabaceae, taller and more sparsely represented on my spot of prairie.  Late in the summer, the mature seedpods of this plant cling to my pants and hitchhike wherever I walk, often causing me to sit and pick at my pant-legs for a long time before they get washed. 

As I think about it, these native Black-Sampson Echinacea (Echinacea angustifolia) also display a similar muted pink-purple hue during their bloom.   The blooms quickly become bedraggled by wind and local insects.

These Echinacea are abundant in my area, and are favorites of local butterflies, bees, and finches.

I've posted a photo before of the Fringe-Leaf Ruellia (Ruellia humilis), but didn't write much about it.  It grows freely, low to the ground, in both the mowed areas of the yard and in the taller native prairie.  I have it stuck in my head that Ruellia is a violet of some type and I have to correct myself each time I see and identify it.

There are many forms of Asteraceae, composite flowers of the Sunflower family, that bloom and attract native insects and birds on the prairie. Daisy Fleabane (Erigeron strigosus) is one of those, 2-3 feet tall and easily visible among the grasses. It does not, contrary to myth, repel fleas from man nor from beast.

Another Asteraceae member presently blooming are the Black-Eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta).  This gray-green, hairy-leafed plant doesn't compete well with prairie grasses, but it sprouts willingly on disturbed ground.   If I showed you a picture of my vegetable garden right now, you'd think I was growing it preferentially there (which I do, since I don't weed it out unless it is adjacent to a tomato, zucchini, or other intentional planting.  

I could, and should, show you photos a few dozen clumps of Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa).  This unmatched bright-orange color uniquely stands out in the grasses and I encourage it to grow and seed wherever it chooses on the prairie or even in my garden beds.

One thing about Asclepias, it draws butterflies and bees from everywhere.  I really should start learning to identify bees and wasps so that I can recognize and encourage either of these visitors to my prairie.

Click on this picture to expand it and you'll see both a butterfly and a bee on the upper left of this single spray.  I'm not sure, but the butterfly here is perhaps a Pearl Crescent (Phyciodes tharos), common in my area.

The prairie is awash right now with clumps of Wild Alfalfa (Pediomelum tenuiflorum), providing some blue tones to contrast with the yellows and whites.  If you view the flowers up close, you can see why this plant is placed in the Bean family.

Last, but not least for a gardener who is always looking for roses, I'll show you a closeup of Rosa arkansana, the Prairie Wild Rose.  R. arkansana is a low-growing, once blooming, winter-hardy rose that has been used in the breeding programs of Ag Canada.  It is everywhere on the prairie, food for insects and animals alike.

And now, what characteristic do all these have in common?  Along with also-currently-blooming but unpictured Lead Plant (Amorpha canescens), Waxy-Leaf Thistle (Cirsium undulatum), White Prairie Clover (Dalea candida) and Purple Prairie Clover (Dalea purpurea) and Woolly Verbena (Verbena stricta)?   All of these are drought resistant natives, stoic in the face of the fickle prairie rains.   They hold a hidden message of hope for the gardener; "for best results, choose drought-resistant perennials and shrubs!!!!"