Well, Bust My Blue Buttons!

I attempt to grow only a few annual plants here in Kansas, with the sole exception an annual small bed of petunias that sits in the completely exposed branching point of my oval driveway.  I have no great love for petunias to confess, it just so happens that they are about the only plant that will provide continual bloom and color in spite of the blustery wind and lack of water at this site, a fact I discovered after years of trying daffodils and tulips and salvias and other species there.  This year, I did experiment with some "companion" annuals in my vegetable garden, marigolds and fennel and dill, in an effort to provide some help with insect control around the brassicas and beans.  But that's the normal extent of my annuals.

I dearly love, however, bright blue flowers, and so I have attempted several times over the last decade to develop a decent stand of blue cornflowers, Centaurea cyanus, or "Bachelor's Buttons" as they are known to the unwashed masses.  I have also failed several times.  I never have understood why;  cornflowers are supposed to like full sun and mildly alkaline soil.  Perhaps I  have just never watered them enough to get them established.

Imagine my delight then, that in this drought-stricken year, when daylilies have deserted me in my hour of need, this miserably hot year is the year that the cornflowers finally grew easily, bloomed spectacularly, and continue to please me as we speak.  How restful the sight of all that beautiful blue.

Any reading you might do about cornflower history will expose all the myths and symbolism represented by this flower.  It is the emblematic flower of a number of human social constructions, from the Swedish "Liberal People's Party" to the Freedom party of Austria, among many others.  It is the national flower of Germany.  To the French it is the symbol of the 1918 Armistice that ended the First World War.  If you wear one in a buttonhole, as prescribed for young men in love, you should just hope that the flower doesn't fade too quickly, a sign that your love is not returned.  I have no idea what it means if it is worn by a young lady and the flower fades.

I, of course, had no idea of the heavy weight laid on the flower by this symbolism.  I only adore the color.  I already know that my climate makes it impossible to grow the similarly-colored Meconopsis grandis, the Blue Poppy.  Do you think that my love for Centaurea is enough to ensure that it blooms for me again in the future, or am I doomed to be "cornflowerless" evermore?

 

Fine Ferdinand

'Ferdinand Pichard'

Let's see, let's see, what rose do I feature next, what rose do I like the best?  I think it is time for stripes again, so we'll discuss 'Ferdinand Pichard' and leave 'Chapeau de Napoleon' and 'Duchess of Portland' waiting in the wings.

Isn't 'Ferdinand Pichard' a lovely rose?  He's a toddler in my garden, at the beginning of his second summer and after a nice first bloom in the first week of May, he rested, stretched up a bit, and is beginning to bloom again now, two months later.  I'm holding my breath with this rose, having lost him as a baby rose once before.

'Ferdinand Pichard', cupped form

As many readers are aware, I'm a sucker for stripes, and 'Ferdinand Pichard' is quite a stunner in that regard.  I wouldn't call him magenta and white, unlike 'Variegata di Bologna', ole FP is more pink and red.  Globular blooms are nicely fragrant, double, and about 3 inches in diameter in my garden, and they open to a cupped form within a couple of days after showing color.  The bush is well-foliaged, with matte green leaves that still look very healthy in mid-summer.  He's about 3 foot tall now, in July of his second year on his own roots, and in some areas may grow up to 8 feet with a 4 foot spread,  I don't think I'll see that size here in Kansas but if his growth spurt this summer is any indication, he'll be a tall gentleman none the less.  Reported hardy to Zone 4, 'Ferdinand Pichard' is completely cane-hardy here in Kansas.

'Ferdinand Pichard' was bred by Tanne in 1921, and he originally hails from France.  There is some confusion about his classification.  Helpmefind.com lists FP as a Hybrid Perpetual, while other sources, including the Old Rose authority Graham Thomas, believes he is a Bourbon. The Montreal Botanical Garden listed him as being very resistant to blackspot and mildew in 1998, in agreement with his booming health in my garden.  David Austin lists FP as being one of the finest striped roses.  Personally, if I had a choice between only 'Variegata di Bologna' and 'Ferdinand Pichard' at this point, I'd be hard pressed to decide since the Bourbon-bred scent of VdB is slightly stronger, while 'Ferdinand Pichard's repeat bloom is much more dependable.

Oh, who am I kidding?   'Ferdinand Pichard' wins hands down.  I've never seen more than a single second bloom from VdB after growing it for 10 years here.  'Ferdinand Pichard' has already given me two bloom cycles with decent flushes, and according to one source, "only gets better with age."

Daylily Disappointment

If some of you have been waiting for some daylily pornography from the Flint Hills, I'm afraid that you are just going to have to share disappointment this year with the rest of us.  It has been a bad year for many plants, to say the least, but the daylilies have been hit the worst of all. 

Bed "A", 7/2/11

Just take a peek at this bed as an example.  The picture at the left is from July 2nd, 2011, and the picture at the right below is the same bed, from roughly the same angle, on June 24th, 2012.  Both were about at the point of peak bloom in their respective years.

Bed "A", 6/24/12

We knew it was going to be bad with the Winter and Spring drought here, but I never dreamed that daylilies would struggle, rain or no rain.  Clear back in May, the Master Gardeners in the area were debating whether the foliage loss was due to fungus or drought.  I was on the drought side of the argument and I even broke down and watered once this year.  Looking at these pictures, I think the drought proponents were correct.

Bed "B", 7/2/11

I've actually been trying to hide my daylily failures this year, but I figured it was time to come out of the closet when emails from the local Hemerocallis Society, who put on an exhibition at the town mall every July, were discussing whether or not there were enough blooms to even bother this year.  At least I know that the experts are missing their daylilies too.  Look at my second bed, as photographed last year on the left, and then again, this year on the right, below.

Bed "B", 6/24/12

I may, in a later post, show a few of the daylilies that did make it though summer heat to shine as bright spots, but first I have to edit their pictures through my tears.  Maybe next year, if the daylilies survive, I'll have more to offer.