The Other Front

Well, at least the other side of my front bed.  In contrast to the yellow border that comprises the right side of my front landscaping, the left side (as you view it) is mostly a succession of reds.  The view recently, in late June is certainly red and green as shown below, the red provided by the second blooms of roses 'Champlain' and 'Hunter' in the background, and Monarda 'Jacob Cline' in the mid-picture, self-seeding madly.  If the picture was large enough, you could see a burgundy Knautia macedonica sticking out behind 'Hunter'.  The picture is clear enough, however, to probably discern the light blue native Salvia in front, Salvia azurea, that I also allow to self-seed anywhere it wants.

When the season first began however, in March, it was only the Red Peach tree showing color, with a few minor daffodils sticking their yellow heads out as shown below.  It is always stunning to me how sparse is the March look of this bed, and how bountiful it is in June.

It then moves on to "first bloom" in April, the red of the roses and the burgundy of 'Wine and Roses' Weigela mixing in a monochromatic theme. Okay, maybe there are a few blue and purple irises and yellow rose Morden Sunrise mixing up the foreground.

Then later, in May, the line of peonies in front pops out even while the roses are still blooming (below).  The peonies add pink and light pink and red (the latter from peony 'Kansas') into the mixture.  And oh, how those deep purple irises show up!  'Wine and Roses' has faded to a burgundy blog in the center.

As the peonies fade, by early June, this garden again (below) goes back to just roses as shown in the first picture above.  The view from the opposite side, in late June, looking out from the front door, is still mostly red and green, but here you can see the stepping stones that are hidden by the lush front display.  There is no hint yet of the white 'David' phlox in the foreground, blooming now only a week after this last picture was taken.  I'll show the phlox and the fall look at the sedums in this bed in a later picture.  All have their season to shine, each and every plant.  Another season, passing away into next year's promises.

Katydid Quandary

What is the Katydid doing?

It really is not fair;  the depth and   numbers of challenges presented daily to organic gardeners (or to those, like myself, who strive to garden organically but run screaming for the pesticides when minor nuisances become invasions).  It is hard enough to know the important facts of growing even one plant to full glory, let alone the knowledge necessary to supervise the growth of hundreds of species in the average medium-size garden.  Soil pH requirements and lighting requirements, common pests and fungal diseases, cultivar differences and watering preferences; sometimes I think it would be easier to get a PhD in Physics than to become an authority on, say, Sweet Corn.  In fact, since I've failed to grow ear-worm-less Sweet Corn on multiple occasions, perhaps I should give Physics a shot.  I can't do any worse.

Just take, for example, the questions evoked by finding the above insect on your 'Prairie Harvest' rose, as I did recently.   The knowledgeable gardeners among you may identify it as some sort of Katydid, or, if you're from the British Isles, a Bushcricket.  But is it friend or foe?  Predator or flower glutton? If I leave it there, on the rose, will it consume the rose and then make lots of little katydids to devour the rest of my roses?  Alternatively, if I leave it there, on the rose, will it reward me by consuming the first scouts of the Japanese Beetles that I expect will reach my garden shortly?  From my contacts with Katydids in childhood, I think they're harmless to myself and perhaps to plants, but I simply don't know enough.

And quick simple research, it seems, even in these days of instant information, isn't enough to do anything more than cloud the issue. To answer the question I've posed, I think one would need to be an entomologist with a lifetime spent specifically in research regarding this insect family. Even then there might not be a definitive answer.  Katydids are in the family Tettigoniidae, which contains more than 6400 species.  They are closely related to crickets, and the diet of some of them includes leaves, flowers, bark and seeds, but many speces are exclusively predatory on insects or snails.  Some are considered pests by commercial crop growers according to one source, but that source doesn't mention which crops are affected.  You can find lots of information about the wierd oral sex practices of the Katydids, but there is little written about their effects on garden plants. Is this yet another example of human voyeurism distracting us from the real issues at hand?  It does me little good, and only leaves me feeling inadequate, to know that the Tuberous Bushcricket (Platycleis affinis) has the largest testicles in proportion to body mass (14%) of any recorded animal.

Which leaves me with what to do about my little friend here?  I don't know.  If it was on another rose than my beloved 'Prairie Harvest', for instance if it was on 'Sally Holmes' or perhaps on 'Knockout', I might worry about it less.  I suppose as long as I find only one or two Katydids, I'll turn the other flower bud and allow them a chance to prove themselves.  A few thousand Katydids would, however, overwhelm my good nature in the way that one Hun is seen as an interesting visitor, while a few thousand Huns is a marauding horde.  Perhaps alongside that thought lies the answer; a properly maintained organic garden should display a balance: a little of this, and a little of that, but never too many of a hungry-looking contingent of Huns.

Sweet Charlotte

'Charlotte Brownell' in hot June (6/12/12)

Every once in a while, I stumble upon a rose that I may not have been specifically searching for, but yet once I find it, I MUST grow it.  There seems to be a list in the back of my head of roses that I'd like to have, but they are secondary to the primary roses that I really want.  The roses that I really WANT, I just find online and order as the whim and finances strike me. 

On that secondary list, for an extended time, was the cream and pink Brownell rose 'Charlotte Brownell'.  I finally found her as one of those horrid, bagged $3 roses at Home Depot, but that didn't detour me from taking her home and giving her some extra care.  I already have tried, lost, and tried again another Brownell rose, 'Maria Stern', and I thought that 'Charlotte Brownell' might make a good addition to my collection from this family of hardy-bred hybrid-tea like roses.  I'm sure that I once read that 'Charlotte Brownell' has an impeccable pedigree, a seedling descended from 'Peace', but now that I'm trying to find it, I can't confirm that information in an authorative source anywhere.  Rats.

'Charlotte Brownell' in cooler Spring weather (5/13/12)

'Charlotte Brownell' was bred by Herbert Brownell, the younger son of famed rose-hybridizer Walter Brownell, as a member of a group of roses that the Brownell's called the "subzero" roses, bred for hardniess in northern climates.  The sub-zero roses  were Hybrid-Tea type roses that were supposed to be hardy without protection to -15F, and they include roses such as 'Lily Pons', 'Curly Pink', red 'Arctic Flame', orange 'Maria Stern', yellow 'Helen Hayes', lavendar 'Senior Prom', and the namesake,  'Dr Brownell'.  Walter Brownell used R. wichurana to improve the health and winter-hardiness of roses in the 1930's and 40's, and his son Herbert continued his work after his death in 1957, culminating in 'Charlotte Brownell' and 'Maria Stern'.  There is a good summary of the Brownell family legacy on the Internet by author Dan Russo.

'Charlotte Brownell' is a yellow-blend hybrid tea with large flowers, up to 4 inches in diameter, complete with the creamiest white/light yellow centers and pink-tinged, ruffled edges.  The color of the bloom seems to vary with temperature, becoming more pale in hot weather, but with deeper yellow and pinks in cooler weather.  Flowers are double, with 35-40 petals, and open quickly.  The bush has little or no blackspot here in Kansas, but my bargain-basement grafted rose does carry rose-mosaic virus.  Except for the virus, she has glossy dark-green leaves and strong but sparse thorns and she is about 2.5 feet tall at 2 years of age in my garden.  No winter protection seems necessary here in Zone 6A. 

Just try to think of 'Charlotte Brownell' as a more hardy 'Peace' rose and you might find a place for her in your garden.  She also gets a lot less blackspot than 'Peace' does in my garden.

Bist du verrückt?

...Which means, "Are you crazy?" in German, according to Babelfish.  That premier internet translator gives me the exact same phrase for "are you nuts?," which I thought would be slightly different, but I guess the English context affects the translation.  "Are you walnuts?" and "Are you pecans?" DO result in a different German phrase so I conclude that "Bist du verrückt?" is the correct question to ask of a befuddled plant.

Digressions aside, the question here is "Why is my 'Yellow Bird' Magnolia reblooming in the middle of Summer?"  The bloom pictured at upper left in a photo taken yesterday is a sunbleached and heat-burnt, but partially open bloom, one of two that I noticed forming a couple of days ago.  'Yellow Bird' bloomed at its usual time this year in my garden, in April, and it is not supposed to be a rebloomer by half. 

Poor thing, it must have been completely confused by the two decent rains we had around 10 days ago.  After a long Fall, Winter and Spring of drought, something in the plant said "Hey, I didn't bloom enough, and there's water to spare now, so therefore it must be Spring again."  A very odd thing, as plant hormones go, isn't it?  There are also seed pods forming on the plant at the same time.  And buds for next year.

We'll just have chalk it up to another strange weather phenomenon in Kansas. Or to alien invasion. Take your pick.  Both make about as much sense to me in a garden where my autumn asters, goldenrods, and Rose of Sharons are all now in bloom, at least a full month early.  What's next?  Witch Hazel in August?  Bring it on.