Amusing Daily Moments

ProfessorRoush should not make fun of gardeners unknown and unknowing, but still, with all the many trials of life, one has to find humor where one can.   Just a few evenings ago, the humor gods presented me with a surprise gift at, of all places, the Arby's drive- thru.   Friends, I give you, pictured at right, the meticulously maintained landscape efforts present at my local establishment.   Their new motto will soon be "Arby's, we have the weeds."

I chuckled as I realized what the plant was, and I'm sure the drive-thru window server and the car behind me thought I was severely mentally deranged as I suddenly paused the car, whipped out my phone, and snapped this picture.  I simply was unable to stop myself.  It's not every day that a Goat's Beard (Tragopogon dubius) is so carefully tended and prominently displayed.

I sincerely hope that this planting is a soon-to-be-classic representation of Dunning and Kruger's "Unskilled and Unaware" hypothesis, inadvertently illustrated by a well-meaning teenager employed at minimum wage for the summer, rather than an intentional effort by a local landscaping firm hired by the restaurant.   One never knows, however.  It is only obvious that leaving this weed in place was purposeful, the perfectly-sited weed growing in an otherwise cleaned and weed-free area.  

Oh, how disappointed management is going to be when this blooms in a week or so, those small pale yellow blooms that will turn quickly into downy tufts of seed.  There are some definite downsides to using Goat's Beard in the landscaping as they spread everywhere and the sticky sap doesn't lend itself to weeding by an ungloved hand.  There are some upsides that I can see, however, as well.  First off, this particular weed is an obvious genius, placed here next to an unending parade of cars to hitch a ride on and enhance its procreation.  Second, I have an enormous crop of Goat's Beard seedlings in my iris bed that I can pull up and transplant for Arby's at a bargain price whenever they want.  I've always wanted to start a nursery and here I am, with a vast quantity of product ready to sell.  And a chain of thousands of restaurants to sell them to.    

Photo Thiwivery

Effective immediately, ProfessorRoush is instituting a new policy to combat the theft and illicit use of his photos by extremely unscrupulous life partners (alias; Mrs. ProfessorRoush) for the sole purpose of falsely enhancing the perpetrator's Facebook feed. It's not thievery by strangers, it's thievery by wife, hence my coined title "Thiwivery."   From this point on, I will add a watermark to my better photos BEFORE I give in to the puppy eyes of Mrs. ProfessorRoush and send her copies of them.  Spousal privileges are one thing, but posting your husband's garden photos is just a step too far! 

Under normal circumstances, I don't mind at all if others download and use photos from this blog for their own purposes.   I've given explicit permission to some readers for their use of photos in the past, and, frankly, if I find one of my pictures being used elsewhere on the vast internet, I find it flattering rather than infuriating.  I just draw the line at seeing my own photos pop up on my own feed from HER Facebook page before I get a chance to post them myself.  I suppose I could unfriend her so I don't have to see her posts, but that seems a step in the wrong direction for good marital relations. 

Case in point, the gorgeous captures of orangey Morden Sunrise pictured above, the rose in full bloom in the evening sun as at the top, and just opening up in the morning dampness as above left.  I took them.  They are fabulous captures, if merely iPhone quality, are they not?   How maddening to see them first displayed on Facebook above comments from her followers over how wonderful HER garden must be.

In her defense, my larcenous spouse is always quick to respond to these comments and shift all credit to me, although at that point her diversions sound a bit disingenuous.  Since the photos are brazenly displayed on her page and the evidence is clear, those weak excuses are not admissible in court and hardly sway the jury. Verdict delivered, the court finds the defendant guilty of rapacious photo pilfering in the first degree.  The sentence is final and the punishment of being provided watermarked photos will be carried out immediately.

Mrs. ProfessorRoush also begged shamelessly for the luscious photos here of a purple columbine that self-seeded itself years ago into the garden and they have since also found their way onto Facebook.   Hey, lady, I know these photos are second only to your own beauty and grace, but take your own photos!  Mine are for my blog readers.  You can steal them later, just like everyone else!

So, It's Not Just Me?

 I've spoken before about the surprise to me that peonies seem to volunteer everywhere in my garden and of the volunteer peonies that have thrived here.  Until this week, I've felt like either a deep, dark gardening secret has been hidden from me despite all the reading I've done, or alternatively that I'm just blessed with a peony-fertile climate.  Just recently, however I've seen that the volunteer peony issue can plague others in the area.  I was taking my first walk of the new spring in the K-State Gardens at lunchtime the other day and came across this obvious aberrant peony growing out of the first tree peony to bloom there.

It is likely, I suppose, that since a tree peony is grafted to the roots of another herbaceous peony, the above break of a graft understock is not so really so surprising.  I'm used to rootstocks growing up and being a nuisance in grafter roses.  During the same lunchtime constitutional, however, I also observed another herbaceous peony rising from this Itoh hybrid, which I highly doubt is grafted.  Itoh hybrids are usually propagated by division according to my reading.  I predict that if I watch while the dozens of peonies at K-State bloom, I'll see other wild children, exposed by their flowers after hiding inside more similar foliage clumps.

Regardless of the wanton explosion of unplanned peonies at the K-State garden, however, my own volunteer peonies continue to crop up.  Just this week, I noticed this small seeding trying to grow next to the Knautia macedonia and Monarda of this bed.  

And I've lost count of all the volunteers that grow for me.  In this vertical line of three distinct peonies, I think that only the center one was planted and the other two are volunteers.   And then there is the volunteer peony with the burgundy foliage growing nearby (and pictured below);  it bloomed last year with a deep red, single flower.   It is worth keeping for the foliage alone.

Should I now run across the city, screaming warning about the unplanned peony population explosion?   Should I be interrogating this advance guard about their alien invasion plans or likely non-terrestrial planet of origin?   Both seem like a slight overreaction given the innocuous and welcome presence of a plant that doesn't smother nearby neighbors and will survive the worst things Kansas throws at it.  No, I think I'll just keep nurturing these babies along.  At worst, they don't have good disease resistance and don't make it.  At best, they'll survive for generations and be my legacy, my lasting joke on those who garden here long after I've become part of the landscape rather than a gardener of it, as they try, and fail, to identify what peony varieties I planted here.

Disaster Averted?

ProfessorRoush has a question mark on the title because I'm not entirely sure yet, but the 4 inches of wet snow last Monday seems to have hardly bothered the plants, and any real damage probably came in the next two nights with lows of 27ºF and a really hard frost one of those mornings.  A late snow does make some pretty pictures, however, even though I and this pink crabapple didn't appreciate it like we could have.

I know that you're wondering how all the plants fared, so I'll try to get right to that.  I'm actually pleasantly surprised that anything at all is left, as green and leafed out as things were, but almost everything came through with minimal damage.   Yes, it whacked the 'Ann' and 'Jane' Magnolias, but they were on their last moments anyway.   The variegated iris shown below has not even blinked, if anything, shining brighter today than ever.

I think a lot of the damage was limited by the heavy blanket of very wet snow insulating all the plants and then quickly melting off.   Fantastically quickly as a matter of fact.  The picture at the left was taken around 7:20 a.m. on the morning of 04/20/21.  The picture below of the exact same view was taken at 6:38 p.m. the same evening. 

Fernleaf Peony

Fernleaf under snow

And the plants recovered just as quickly.   The picture on the left is of the fernleaf peony and tulips covered by snow, and on the right, just a few nights later.   That fernleaf was blooming fully beneath the snow and it never looked back.  You can click on them if you want to see them larger.

And the lilacs, the lilacs that I was so worried about?  Well, here are the row of lilacs tonight, and the exact same bloom from 'Declaration that I showed you in the blog entry from 4/20.  I think the cold seems to have lightened the blooms a little bit, but they have retained their fragrance and held up remarkedly well.   Stepping on my garage pad tonight, in the middle of a brisk wind, is like stepping into a perfume factory.  

Last, but not least, I'm sure you're all wondering about my beloved 'Yellow Bird' Magnolia.   Before the snow, I thought it was going to give me the best show yet, the blooms just ready to peak on the exact day of the snow.  Well, I can't say it came through it unscathed, but I think it will survive to bloom another year.   The leaves that opened early are a bit frost-damaged, and the blooms are discolored up close (see below), but it seems to not be nearly so damaged as I feared.  And that, my friends, is my summary for the entire event; a near-heart-attack-inducing late spring snow that wasn't nearly so bad as I feared.   Thank you, God!

'Yellow Bird', today

'Yellow Bird', today.