Opposites Do Attract



'Slender Lady'

 I know I mentioned recently that I have lately taken a liking to spider-type daylilies.  It's main daylily season here now and my spiders are blooming like crazy;  big beautiful flippy blooms that really bring a smile to my face. I don't know why, I just like them.  Just take a gander at the recent spidery blooms on this page.  Who could ask for prettier daylilies?  Certainly we couldn't ask for bigger daylilies; 'Slender Lady' is almost 10 inches across. 





'Flycatcher'



I was reminded again a few nights ago, however, that there is no accounting for taste. I hadn't realized until recently that I was essentially alone in my household regarding my admiration of spider daylilies.  That realization came when I took a walk with Mrs. ProfessorRoush and we were discussing the many blooming daylilies in the yard and she mentioned that she didn't like the "long-flimsy looking ones." 

Mrs. ProfessorRoush and I have a long-term and wonderful marriage, but every day I thank my lucky stars that she doesn't interfere with, or try to join in, my gardening.  Because it turns out that the daylilies she really likes are the brassy orange ones, like 'Tuscawilla Tigress' (Hansen, 1988) for instance, pictured below.  This is the exact color of daylilies that I like the least (I prefer mostly pinks, light yellows, reds, and purples, except for 'Kwanzo'). The orange daylilies are the ones that give daylilies a bad name, in my opinion. In fact, all the orange daylilies I grow were accidents that happened when I didn't realize how much the pukey color of a particular new daylily would resemble 'Stella de Oro' in a bigger bloom.  Mrs. ProfessorRoush is lucky that I've been too lazy to eliminate the ones I have and believe me, I'm trying hard not to acquire any more.  I stay completely away from the "orange" table at the local Daylily Society sale.  What kind of a name is "Tuscawilla" anyway?  It's not even a valid Scrabble word.  Yuck, Yuck, and doubleYuck.

 

'Tuscawilla Tigress'

What can I say?  I prefer to view our differences as the spices of our marriage and as proof that opposites sometimes really do attract.  Mrs. ProfessorRoush does have her redeeming points, even if her choices of garden perennials would get her kicked out of any respectable local gardening venue.

Say, come to think of it, Mrs. ProfessorRoush and my daughter are both afraid of spiders (the arachnids) and they force me to keep an EPA-registered chemical-hazard zone inside of my house to repel the hairy little invaders.  You don't reckon, deep down, that I like spider daylilies because of the unsettling feeling they invoke to keep the female members of the family out of my garden do you?  Nah, couldn't be :)

Revenant Returnings

Our vocabulary word for the day is "revenant," a new word (at least to me) that is defined in the Free Online Dictionary as:  1) One that returns after a lengthy absence, and 2) One who returns after death.

Buddleia 'Black Knight'

I discovered the term in a search to describe what had occurred when my truant 'Black Knight' butterfly bush (Buddleia davidii 'Black Knight') suddenly popped up this year again after skipping out last year entirely.  I've seen a similar circumstance or two where a plant barely hangs on for a year or more and then seems to regather its energy and burst forth, but I've never seen one just disappear for a year and then regrow.  At least I think it was missing last year and believe me, I searched.  It is in a spot surrounded by early peonies and late goldenrods, and although I looked several times for it last summer, the last time I saw this bush was in 2009.  Given the drought at the end of last year, I had given up on this handsome little bush entirely, but a few days ago it bloomed again, confirming the strength and the vitality of the life force within.  I know that the Butterfly Bush can reseed and it is actually considered invasive in some regions, but I've never had one reseed before in Kansas and this plant is in the same exact spot as the original.

In Kansas, Buddleia seem to be hit-and-miss perennials.  They usually die back in winter nearly to the ground and regrow each summer.  I've grown a number of cultivars, but although some seem to hang around for a few years, eventually most of them have succumbed to the combination of my lack of special care and the Flint Hills environment.  I've grown the diminutive 'Petite Purple' twice in two different spots and both times it has not made it into the 4th year.  I was fond of light blue and very fragrant 'Lochinch' and had high hopes for it since it thrived for 6 years in one spot, but then it died during a seemingly mild winter.  The current 'Black Knight' is my second.   Pretty yellow 'Honeycomb' didn't even make it to her third year, nor did 'Nanho Blue' or 'Pink Delight'.  The only consistently hardy Buddleia that I have grown is 'White Profusion', a large-flowered pure white variety that reaches approximately 6 feet tall each season.  'White Profusion' has survived now 10 years in the same spot in my landscaping, so I think I can recommend this one for Flint Hills gardeners without reservation.  Butterflies flock around it in late July and August and I love the delicate perfume as I walk by it.

If you'd like to see a pseudo-miracle of resurrection in action, then come over and see my 'Black Knight'.  I'm hoping it decides to hang around a few years this time because I'm really not that fond of ghosts or guests who appear and disappear without warning.

Yarrow Expansions

I know that sometimes, as gardeners and as bloggers, we wonder if we're just spouting into the ether and nobody is out there listening, but I can now provide a little evidence to one excellent blogger regarding this existential question.  A recent post by Greggo, of his blog Gardening with Greggo, entitled Yearning for Yarrows had the dual effect on me of inspiring me to add some of the new yarrows to my garden and of making me feel guilty that I was not paying enough attention to this important group of plants.

'Moonshine' Yarrow

I've planted a yarrow or two, mostly in the wrong place, and then left them poorly cared for, so there should be no surprise that I haven't been impressed by Achillea offerings.  I also thought that many of the new introductions appeared washed out or a little too much on the pastel side and I like my garden colors bright and pure.  But then Greggo showed me Achillea filipendulina 'Coronation Gold' and my soul shouted "I WANT IT".  For my own garden, I couldn't find 'Coronation Gold' locally, but I was able to locate an excellent specimen of Achillea millefolium 'Moonshine', pictured at left, which has almost the same bright yellow tint and might even be more drought tolerant.

Achillea millefolium, also known as Western Yarrow, is the native yarrow in Kansas that pops up all over my prairie, but I've only known it in its white native species form (pictured at right). The species is a gray-leafed yarrow, highly resistant to drought and the whims of large prairie rats (i.e. deer), and frankly it fades quickly to a relatively dirty looking white.  Hardy to Zone 3 and 18-24 inches tall, 'Moonshine' reportedly retains the drought tolerance of its forebear and ohh-la-la, hopefully will retain that bright color!  High Country Gardens recommends 'Moonshine' as one of the best garden perennials currently available, and I find that high praise indeed.

    

Achillea 'Pomegranate'

Looking farther afield, I also found two red A. millefolium yarrows, 'Pomegranate' and 'Red Velvet' that satisfy my longing for blood red flowers.  Here, heading into the July heat, they were on sale and both a little bedraggled by the haphazard care at local box stores, but look as if they'll make it in the long run.  'Pomegranate', pictured at left, is a bit shorter than 'Moonshine', about 15-18 inches tall at maturity, but she's a real stunner next to my new Buck roses.  'Red Velvet' has no blooms at present, but I couldn't resist that duskier red variety at a $1.29/quart price.

'Moonshine' has been around awhile, but 'Pomegranate' is one of the Tutti Fruiti series from Blooms of Bressingham, originally bred in Holland by the Sahin firm.  Looking at the Blooms of Bressingham offerings, I'm glad the local firms carried these two yarrows, because I'm not crazy about many of the others;  again a little too pastel for my liking with the exception, perhaps, of 'Strawberry Seduction'.  I actually have a specimen of 'Strawberry Seduction', planted in a "native" garden plot last year, but I haven't gone searching for it yet to see if it survived the winter amidst the other weeds.

Thanks to Greggo, though, I'm at least exposed now to the possibilities of the new yarrow offerings.

Horticultural Gettysburg

Regular readers of this blog will recall my intention to refrain from mowing the prairie grasses that make up our outer lawn and may also recall Mrs. ProfessorRoush's not-so-subtle resistance to said intention. For new readers, you can catch up here and here.   

While the end to this horticultural civil conflict is nowhere in sight, I am happy to report that the first skirmish has been won by the ecologically-enlightened Native Faction and its allies, and that Mrs. ProfessorRoush has conceded that the particular unmown strip pictured below might possibly have some redeeming qualities. I believe it was the cheery faces of all the Black-Eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) peeking above the grass that has temporarily quieted the dogs of war.

Please don't tell She Who Likes Manicured Lawns, but this area, about 15 feet wide by 50 feet long, laying between the driveway and the unbearing fruit trees that I euphemistically call my orchard, was always my secret weapon; my personal Manhattan Project to bring a swift and decisive end to the conflict. This spot was my best hope for a quick victory and it paid off.  I had previously mowed around a few volunteer R. hirta's in this area last year, preserving a couple of 1 foot by 3 foot strips for a few weeks,  and the cute little yellow buttons obviously procreated and self-sowed themselves above and beyond the call of duty for my benefit.  The lesson here, as always, is that overwhelming numbers are often a key component of victory, horticultural or otherwise. 

The tide of battle has also shifted because the Supreme Commander of the Mowing Faction has not yet encountered any snakes on her walks with the dog, nor has there been a noticeable increase in ticks and chiggers along the mown paths.  The Primary Rabbit-and-Snake Chaser has cooperated by keeping any information that reptiles and rodents are present in the demilitarized zones on the down-low.  

I won't try to pretend that all my unmown areas, now all approximately one foot in average height, have anywhere near this degree of accidental beauty, but I'm hoping other forbs seed themselves around by next year to enhance those areas which are currently less floriferous.  In the meantime, the growing grass itself may aid the General of the Native Faction and his allies as the prairie grass develops its usual red and buff coloration in September and October.  I am aware that Mrs. ProfessorRoush likes the autumn colors of the prairie grasses and, as always, accurate information about the weaknesses of your enemy often determines the outcome of the war.  God-willing, an Armistice will soon be signed and freedom to escape the tyranny of a carefully-manicured suburban utopia will belong to myself, the Primary Rabbit-and-Snake chaser, and the collective prairie flora.