Premonition of Peonies

Paeonia tenuifolia budding

In the past few days I noticed that my brave peonies had decided it was time to stick their noses up above the ground.  Every year, I find myself anxiously awaiting the appearance of these delicate stalks and happy to see them pop up and slowly unfurl.  I still sometimes find it amazing that these few buds will cover the area of a bushel basket in a mere month or so, and I find it still more miraculous as the enormous fat buds swell larger than these stems ever dreamed of being.

Herbaceous peony sprouts

No plant that I grow can beat the peony for low maintenance care here on the prairie.  They ask only to be mowed off in the Fall and tossed a little fertilizer each Spring.  A little fertilizer goes a long way in fact, and this year I'm going to try a little organic compost on each peony instead of my usual handful of high-calorie lawn fertilizer in an effort to try and keep them a bit more compact. Watering, deadheading, pruning, insecticides, and fungicides are not ever on the menu for herbaceous peonies in Kansas.  The largest varieties might ask for a little stem support during their bloom periods, but I just plant them close and make them shoulder up against each other for support during the Kansas winds and storms. 

 





05/25/2010 in my peony bed

Despite the recent cold and the rain and possible snow predicted this weekend, peonies are the one early plant that I never, ever worry will sustain frost damage or freeze back.  I used to cover these early buds with blankets and milk jugs, but after a few years, I decided that this "lower" life form has a far better grasp of when their time has come than I do.  Principally, the disastrous snow and freezes of mid-April in 2007 provided the evidence to me.  In that rare year, when the lilac blooms froze on the stems, the daylilies were frost-bitten, and the fruit trees dropped their buds, the peonies simply smiled at the freak cold and perked right back up when the weather warmed.   Not for nothing do peonies dot the oldest gravestones in comfortable ancient graveyards and are often the sole survivors at old abandoned homesites. They are, it seems, the wisest of the wise.

Life Inside the Windows

Ignoring for a moment that we've got about 1/2 inch of snow on the ground outside this morning after the weatherman predicted last night that nothing would stick....I still have hope that Spring is coming soon.

Anybody care to guess what the prairie-based (hint) Garden Muser is growing ahead for planting?  I'm not a great plantsperson for growing seeds under lights, but I think these have a slight chance of making it till last frost.  Each row is a different seed.  I'll provide a left-to-right listing of the cultivars in a few days.

There are also a few other surprises for my landscape sprinkled behind the windows. These are some Hyacinth Bean Vines (Dolichos lablab) that I planted in peat pots and enclosed in a plastic bag a couple of weeks ago.  They're just getting window sun, no artificial light, but they seem to be ready to sprout for the sky.  One of my fellow EMG's provided the seed last fall and I'm putting them on one side of a naked pergola to climb on this summer.  The other side, as mentioned in a previous post, will be a Passion Flower vine.  I plan to let them fight out who controls the center of the pergola.

Adelaide HoodWho?

As an accomplished botanical serial killer, I would truthfully state that there are few roses of which I am able to say that I only purchased once and still have a surviving specimen to display.  One of those tough, against-all-odds roses however, is the bright red Canadian shrub rose 'Adelaide Hoodless'. 

'Adelaide Hoodless'

'Adelaide Hoodless' is a 1973 introduction from the Parkland Series of AgCanada, bred by Henry Marshall in the Morden Research Station of southern Manitoba (floribunda 'Fire King' X seedling of 'J.W.Fargo' and 'Assiniboine') . She was named to honor the esteemed 19th century founder of the Women's Institute, now an International Organization dedicated to providing women with educational opportunities.  I first purchased her way back in the early 1990 or 1991 as I first "got into" roses, and I placed her as the backdrop to some moisture-stealing junipers in an elevated front planter with a straight southern exposure at our first home.  There, in that arid, crowded, hot environment, with a brick wall as a backdrop and tended by a neophyte gardener, she defied the odds through summer after summer and winter after winter, blooming her little top right off for several weeks each summer.

When we moved to the prairie, I moved a rooted portion of my own-root 'Adelaide Hoodless' out to the site of my first rose experimental bed (now abandoned) where she continues to survive unaided amidst the taller prairie grass and ice storms and prairie fires, but I have also propagated other plants from that one and the original rose now has not one, but two cloned grandchildren in protected positions in my shrub rose beds.   This rose is a true survivor in Kansas, with no winter dieback seen in any winter of my 20 years here.

'Adelaide Hoodless' is a good rose, but I don't think I would say she has been a great rose for me.  She's listed on some websites as "deep pink," but while I can see the pink tints, I would list this rose closer to bright red, especially at a distance. She has a stupendous first display of  those red, semi-double, 3 inch blooms borne in large clusters, but despite her rumored continual bloom through summer and fall, I have found her to have a long first season, covered for over a month with flowers, but  then only sporadic repeat throughout the rest of the year.  Her semi-double form opens quickly and a little flat for my taste, but the open form allows her to display lots of yellow stamens, and the blooms then stay on the bush in good form for a long time.  She grows to about the 4-5 foot range, with a round form that is more reminiscent of a floribunda than a shrub, and I can confirm her complete hardiness in Zone 5, probably not surprising anyone who knows that this rose should be good to Zone 2.  'Adelaide Hoodless' is supposed to have a number of hips in winter, but I've found the hips small and uninspiring.  She has a mild fragrance, and is generally a healthy bush, although she's prone to a little blackspot in the summer, dropping her pantaloons a bit if I don't keep a close eye on her. I do spray this rose in an occasional bad summer, and I use her as an indicator that it is time to spray other black-spot susceptible varieties, but I don't want to mislead anyone into thinking she is a blackspot magnet to the degree of a Hybrid Tea. 

So why, you might ask, do I still grow this rose of minor fragrance, unspectacular bloom form and repeat, small hips, and occasional fungal disfigurement?  To put it most simply, I strongly admire any plant that I haven't been able to kill at least once.  The vigor of this rose is simply unsurpassable.  I saw it yesterday in bagged form at Home Depot and even there, I found myself admiring that in those prematurely-budding decrepit bags, 'Adelaide Hoodless' looked much healthier and had more new buds growing than any of the other varieties offered.  If you need a bright red rose of better shrub form than Knockout, but with most of the other drawbacks of Knockout, then this is a shrub rose for you.

Mowing Bedlam

If my regular readers suspect that they have begun to determine a pattern in the "Roush Gardening Method," today's blog will remove all doubt and expose me for the gardening charlatan I truly am.  I know that some might apply the words, "cynical," "skeptic," and perhaps "shameful" to many of these blogs as I discuss emotionally-charged subjects such as Global Warming, organic gardening dogma, and WEE (Wild-Eyed Environmentalists).  Yes, I fully admit that I am sometimes unable to resist poking the Birkenstock herd as they meander across the garden drinking the Kool-Aide.

But truthfully, for all the "low-maintenance" hype I spew about my garden endeavors, the core basis of the "Roush Gardening Method" is simple laziness.  I don't aim for low-maintenance, I aim for "low-work," however that result can be obtained.

As an example, I resolved a few years back to limit the annual maintenance of my two mixed daylily and iris beds to the simple technique of mowing them once in the Fall or late Winter.  As you can see from the picture at left, the resultant bed has a nice clean look that took about 10 minutes to create at the end of the last growing season.  Please go ahead and ignore the variably-sized limestone edging that keeps the prairie fires out of my beds. Doesn't it look like a knowledgeable and dedicated gardener has been hard at work clearing this bed of plant debris?  I did not, as recommended in numerous books, take some nice hand scissors out to carefully and individually trim the iris into angled fans, nor did I remove the previous foliage from the daylilies.  I simply mowed off both at a height of 3 inches with a mulching, riding lawnmower (gasp!).  This resulted in a nice 2-3 inch layer of chopped mulch that matted down nicely and didn't blow to the next county over the winter.      

As you can see from the 2nd picture, the result, pictured during early daylily season in the middle of a hot summer, leaves little room for complaint, at least by me.  I get two solid seasons of bloom, iris and daylily, out of this bed, plus a little third bloom season due to some daffodils that pop up and cycle before the daylily or iris foliage is evident.  Yes, it is not a varied shrub border, but I have those in other places and they bloom in their own time and space. No, I wouldn't do this to a formal rose garden.   My daylily and iris beds are intended only for full colorful climax at the height of summer.  It is also important to know that I have not yet seen any disease nor detriment to the practice.  In fact, the disaster of the late Flint Hills freeze of 2007, which reduced the majority of my irises to soggy and very dead plants, will likely not be repeated as there is not much green growth yet to freeze.  KSU's advice in 2007 to "not-cut-back" the irises after the freeze, which I now believe was a mistake, will be moot for me in the future;  I don't have any iris foliage at this time of year to freeze.

I'll tell you a secret;  I also did this mowing technique on my peony plantings last fall and I'll show you those pictures in a later post as the peonies bloom.  Yes, it's true that my garden design is in some danger of becoming a set of display beds of various plants without architecture or form, but I'll make sure to keep some mixed beds around and there is always the formal rose garden and the shrub rose borders.  Anyway, I prefer to think of my garden as a symphony, with a set of sax notes here, a refrain popping up over there from the violas, and later a flute taking up the melody from the background.  As opposed to creating a jam session of uninhibited jazz players, if you'll allow me to continue the metaphor...

The success of this quirky methodology is encouraging me to try a different type of bed this year.  I'm planning a large garden bed of self-sown annuals that I'm going to try to keep the prairie grass and weeds out by hand, but to just mow down each fall to re-spread the mature seed heads.  We'll see, we'll see.