Spiritual Prairie Union

 "The heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament sheweth his handywork." Psalm 19:1.  

If a gardener knows any scripture at all, it should be this phrase.  ProfessorRoush has been witness to the wisdom of this Psalm every morning this past two weeks as I drive past a gorgeous heavenly display of two common prairie forbs sharing the same space, purple Western Ironweed (Vernonia baldwinii) and white and green Snow-On-The-Mountain (Euphorbia marginata).   There are few times when I see such showy native plants so wild, yet so perfectly sited to contrast and enhance each other that I can only stand and marvel, jealous of the Gardener who arranged them in combination.

Western Ironweed

I took the picture above in the worst possible conditions for photography; sun setting behind the subject, light rain on the horizon, dusk settling into the valleys.   And yet the beauty of the prairie shines forth from this chance clumping, this union of the blooms of August each drawing in their late pollinators, offering last seasonal meals in exchange for stirred chromosomes, the dance of wildflower and insect continued in another year.

Snow-On-The-Mountain

Neither of the colorful perennials above are rare on the prairie.   Western Ironweed, so drought tolerant and tall in the heat of summer, is a common pasture weed on the Flint Hills and difficult to eliminate from my garden beds.  This member of the Asteraceae is shunned by cattle for its bitter taste, who thus help it to spread in overgrazed pastures, eliminating its competitors while letting it grow.  Snow-On-The Mountain, a poinsettia relative, is also found here in nearly every disturbed spot of ground, popping up randomly in my garden beds next to grasses and roses, and anywhere else it can find a bit of moisture and sunshine.  In contrast to the ironweed, this euphorbia pulls easily from the ground with bare hands, and although it's bitter, milky sap is said to be as irritating as poison ivy, I seem to be impervious to its toxic nature.

The ubiquity of these wildflowers might suggest that their serendipitous adjacency has occurred by mere statistical chance, but I refuse to tempt disaster by agreeing.  ProfessorRoush, not normally disposed to quote scripture, nonetheless feels here a higher design, a greater Hand in this natural combination.  Maybe you have to be here, at this spot, with the waning sunlight and smell of rain in the air to appreciate this moment.  Better yet the sight is simply spectacular every morning with fresh sunlight and cool breeze and living prairie all around as I drive to work.  All I know for sure is that these two plants, every day, brighten my morning, the gift of living made manifest as my day begins.  And I am thankful for it and for my life shared with the prairie.

New Life, New Roses

You know how it is with proud new fathers, right?  Every gurgle, every smile, every first step of the infant is celebrated, photographed, and immortalized?   Well, ProfessorRoush  is absolutely no different with his infant roses, chronicling every new leaf and fretting over every new threat.  

The gorgeous little blush pink darling seen here to the right is the second bloom of one of two seedlings I was able to keep alive this year, from the first tiny sprout in late February clear through to transplantation into the garden proper.  I'm disturbed that I had better light this morning (see the movie at the bottom), but had my iPhone set to "video" and when I went to rephotograph her for this afternoon, the weather is cloudy, and sprinkling, and the light is terrible for her.  

Her first bloom, shown to the left as she opened in late April, showed me a lot of promise, a full double with delicate petals of a faint pink hue, but I am more thrilled to see now that she is remonant, blooming again today with two other buds waiting in the wings.

She's been healthy so far, protected from the rabbits by her milk jug collar and under full Kansas sun, and the bloom at the top appears undamaged by our heat and the rain, but of course she has to go a long way to prove herself before I trouble to name her.  Most important will be her winter hardiness, for I will not protect her from weather, just from marauding deer as the fall approaches.   A chicken wire cage is coming soon!

I have another new seedling, planted a few yards away, also healthy but she has yet to bloom.  Of course, I have no idea of the provenance of either rose although the foliage of each resembles its sister; both are the unknown orphans of a bunch of rose hips gathered in a hurry as the winter closed in and planted into a peat moss garden in the house under artificial lights.  Most of the hips were from Hybrid Rugosas, but neither seedling shows any signs yet of Rugosa heritage.  From her appearance, the one that has bloomed looks most like the English Rose 'Heritage' from my garden, the same delicate petals, similar bloom color and leaf form.  Sadly, I have no idea if I grabbed hips from 'Heritage' during my fall frenzy.

Keep your fingers crossed, my friends, and I'm open to suggestions for naming and for christening presents from godparents.  I gave both roses some extra water today after our week of 100ºF+ temperatures and dry conditions, but otherwise, they're on their own.  At least the Japanese Beetles have disappeared, their summer cycle of irritating this gardener at an end.  

Fabulous Fuchsias

Buzz™ Velvet

Standing out, even from a distance, from the daylily yellow and oranges, from the hydrangea whites and green ornamental grasses, are a few eye-catching, awe-inspiring plants that are cheerfully dragging ProfessorRoush with them through the hot weather of late June.  Some might call them pink, some might call them "hot pink," but they are the definition, the epitome of fuchsia.   Fuchsia color without fuchsia genetics, you might say.

The most vivid, screaming at me from far away in the garden as I peer out my window each morning, is Buddleia 'Buzz™ Velvet', a  2014 planting in my garden introduced to commerce by the venerable British firm, Thompson and Morgan.  I've grown a number of Buddleia cultivars over the years, but this one and 'White Profusion' are the only ones that have stood the test of time and Kansas weather.  The latter may survive only because it's southern exposure and protection from north winds from the house behind it, but 'Buzz™ Velvet' is exposed out in the middle of the garden, protected only by some dead ornamental grass in the winter.     

Buzz, if I can use that shortened moniker, stands about 5 foot tall and is blooming its head off at the moment.   A dazzling vision from the house, I'm showing you the opposite viewpoint here, because looking from the deeper garden towards the house and barn, it is the backdrop to Hibicus 'Midnight Marvel' and the blue-foliaged seed-pod-ed remains of Argemone polyanthemos, the white prickly poppy that I allow to grow there.  Yes, I like Buzz™ Velvet, as do the butterflies who are all over it, all the time.

'Moje Hammarberg'

Marking the corner of a nearby rose bed, fuchsia-pink 'Moje Hammarberg' is also a bright bloomer, although a more diminutive one.   I've written of 'Moje Hammarberg' before, and I still have high hopes for this rose as a survivor in my garden.  He's still short, 2.5 feet tall at 3 years old, and he's a little wider at 3 feet around, but those loose fuchsia blooms are plentiful and were moderately untouched by the Japanese beetle invasion this year.  

 'Moje Hammarberg's lack of attractiveness to beetles is most interesting to me right now, almost as interesting as its fuchsia coloring.  He stands only six feet away, directly across from and mirrowing 'Hanza'.   'Hanza', has nearly the same color, the same rugosa foliage, a little larger bush, and the same loose bloom form, but it is a beetle magnet  In fact it is host for the massive orgy of beetles at the top of another recent blog entry.  The primary difference I can see between the bushes is not one of appearance, but of fragrance;  'Moje Hammarberg' has a little fragrance, while 'Hanza' is loaded with a spicy aroma.  Is that the attraction?   Are Japanese Beetles more apt to attack fragrant roses?   Or is the whole thing just one big fuchsia-tinted coincidence this year?   Inquiring gardeners want to know. 

Just Housekeeping

 Folks, I'm confused about what's happening with Feedburner and email subscriptions to this blog at the end of the month, but in an attempt to keep subscribers, if you stop getting emails from this blog, keep coming back to the original at https://kansasgardenmusings.blogspot.com until I get the subscription fixed, or try the Feedburner feed direct at http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/ZSQTuT