Great Scapes

The scapes are in the bottom of the picture

Day 130
The Daily DuBrule

It's garlic scape time! My garlic plants are trying to flower and I am not going to let them. Instead, I am going to cut off the curly flower buds (scapes) and eat them. Yum! 

I didn't know about garlic scapes the first year I planted hard neck garlic. It's kind of a backwards crop. You plant the garlic cloves in the fall, they emerge in the spring. By June, the plants are gigantic. The scapes appear right around Memorial Day. The first time this happened, I was curious as I love all Alliums. I wanted to see what they looked like. It turns out the round,pale lavender flowers are a big fat nothing. My experiment took a lot of energy from the developing garlic bulbs and they were small and disappointing. 

I began studying how to grow garlic after that. It turns out the scapes are a delicacy, a whole entire crop unto themselves. I saw them for sale at
Whole Foods for an insane amount of money per pound! Considering I plant about 150 heads of garlic a year, I had plenty of scapes to eat and share. They are delicious in stir fries, or chopped up in any kind of dish. You can make garlic scape pesto which is so delicious. You can brush them with olive oil and grill them. 

Now, when late May rolls around, I instinctively look for my garlic scapes to appear. I bring them into work and share the bounty and they become a part of my meals for many weeks. In July, I dig the garlic and dry it. Two harvests from simple cloves of hard neck garlic. A very easy and very efficient crop indeed.

Our Fringe Tree

Day 129

The Daily DuBrule

Last year, long before Hurricane Irene or the insane Halloween weekend snowstorm, a giant sugar maple tree in our shade garden by the road at Natureworks crashed down onto Rt. 22 at 7 a.m., during the rush hour. This is quite a busy road in the mornings and late afternoons. It was a miracle that it didn't fall on a car. It scared one of my employees just about out of her skin as she happened to be walking by when it happened. It was a rainy morning, and the wind was blowing, but trooper that she is, she decided to come into work anyway. So did I. When I pulled into the driveway and saw her eyes bulging out of her head and she explained why, I realized it was the end of an era for our shade garden. 

I knew this tree would die eventually. A few years earlier, I had planted a 'Diane' witch hazel nearby, hoping to grow it to a good size before having to take down the tree. When the giant maple fell, the witch hazel was buried beneath its branches. My heart sank.

The rain continued to pour down that morning. I called the state of CT to report the tree down as my shade garden is actually on state property. The neighboring paving company had immediately come to our rescue and dragged the tree off the road with a big machine, but it had to be cut up and removed. I assumed that the state would take days, if not weeks, to cut up and remove this tree and that I would be looking at a mess for a long time. Imagine my surprise when less than an hour later, a state truck pulled up and the chainsaws started up. I ran outside in the pouring rain and begged the workman at the top of my lungs to try and save the witch hazel. They must have though I was insane. Miraculously, and to their credit, when they were done, the witch hazel was alive and had sprung back to its original position, albeit a bit bent.

The shade garden was no longer in full shade. A mature ash remained, but at the southern end, the witch hazel wasn't big enough to block the sun. All of my carefully chosen deep shade plants were going to fry. 

You don't get many chances to plant a tree on a small crowded acre. This was a golden opportunity. The great debate began amongst my staff. We finally settled on a native fringe tree, Chionanthus virginicus. It went into the ground quickly afterwards. It is in full bloom this week and happy as a clam. The shade garden is still pretty sunny, but most of the plants don't seem to mind that much. Every yard, every garden, every landscape is an ever-changing work in progress. 

 

Thinning

Day 128
The Daily DuBrule


Yesterday I went out to the vegetable garden to prepare for planting my tomatoes. I quickly realized that if I didn't thin my radish seedlings immediately, I would not have a good crop. Thinning is such a crazy thing to do. I have to force myself to thin my plants. After all the work involved in preparing the seed bed, carefully rolling the seeds in Organic Plant Magic dehydrated compost tea powder, and successfully timing the root crop planting with the phase of the moon, it seems like EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY RADISH SEEDS SPROUTED. I guess that's what I wanted, but I thought I had so carefully sowed them far apart. Oh well. I proceeded to sit on the edge of the raised bed and remove almost half of my precious seedlings. 


One tiny radish was actually ready. I washed it and popped it into my mouth. It was crispy and spicy. That helped my mood. Knowing that by thinning out the rest of the radishes I would have hundreds of these yummy radishes in a week or so made me happy. It will make my husband even happier. He LOVES radishes.


When I explained to him what I did in the garden, he was dumbfounded. He had never heard of thinning nor could he wrap his mind around the concept. All he knows is that when the radishes are sitting in a bowl, drenched in red wine vinegar and olive oil, and he is gorging on radish salads day after day, whatever it is that I do is worth it.

The Gift of Solitude

Day 127
The Daily DuBrule

This week, no matter where I went to plant gardens, I didn't have enough plants with me. I was mostly planting annuals and tropicals in containers and borders. The properties I was working on laughed in the face of a truckload (or a barge load) of plants. Friday I went alone to two beautiful seaside gardens to finish up. The day before Memorial Day weekend is usually chaos. Workman coming and going, everyone scurrying about fixing things and opening the pool and making sure everything is in working order. I was astounded to find myself alone in some of the prettiest gardens I tend.

Being alone while gardening is a rare occurrence for me. If I don't have a crew with me I am at Natureworks being peppered with questions. What a gift! I relaxed into the work and thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it. It rained a bit and my knees were muddy but that didn't bother me. I listened to the birds and the waves and had a day of solitude before a busy Saturday at the garden center. 

 

Memorial Day Madness

Day 127
The Daily DuBrule

The holy grail of holidays is coming up. For a landscaper, "get it done by Memorial Day" are the marching orders from most of the clients. This is simply impossible to do and makes for an insane couple of weeks. Why Memorial Day? It marks the official start of summer, which is crazy since summer really begins 24 days after this holiday. It used to mark the date of the last frost and was the official tomato planting day. Now that date, at least where I am, is around the middle of May. Tomatoes can certainly continue to be planted on May 29th and well beyond. It has been the traditional date to get your annuals in. Guess what. Some of the most unusual annuals I have ever seen are just beginning to arrive. They weren't ready earlier. I plant this stuff all throughout June. Perennials and shrubs? No need for a deadline here. 

Still, the pressure is on and the old paradigm remains. That is why people in my business collapse in puddle of mush on the floor on Memorial Day and sleep in the sun. It's a crazy week to be a professional gardener.

Redfield Primroses

Day 126
The Daily DuBrule

I will never forget my visit to the Redfield brothers' gardens. It was in early May and the hillsides were carpeted with Phlox stolonifera. All kinds of wildflowers were popping up everywhere. There was a large rock garden with plants I had never seen before. It was inspirational.

The Japanese primroses that they are famous for weren't in bloom yet, but after seeing their garden, I knew they too would be very special. I bought them in 3" pots and started encouraging customers to plant them in wet, shady spots. The results were stunning.

These primroses are in bloom in my garden right now. I finally live in a house where heavy, wet clay soil is the norm. I planted a few of the 'Redfield Hybrid' Primula japonicas at the base of a large winterberry. It basks in the afternoon shade of a nearby maple. They are at home and self seeding as expected.
 
The trick with these and all primroses is to divide them regularly. Then, look for babies-there will be plenty. Move them to where you want them and the following year they will bloom. I remember fondly the day that my friend Carol came into Natureworks on a busy Saturday morning in May and said "if you don't come up to my house this weekend, you will miss the show!". Carol happens to live right up the street from the shop and her garden is a gem. I had just finished my Saturday morning walk and I looked around and then hopped into her car. Like a couple of crazy teenagers on a joy ride, I escaped to her yard for 15 minutes to see her plants in full bloom. It was worth it! The funniest part of this tale is that when I returned to Natureworks, my staff was relieved. They couldn't imagine where I had gone and were worried about me!

Carol's wet, woodland garden ablaze with thousands of 'Redfield Hybrid' Japanese primroses has inspired me to plant these easy care perennials in many more gardens. For many years, I enjoyed them along a stream in a Guilford property, one of the most beautiful woodland gardens I have ever had the honor to work on. I hope the new owner of this property knows what she has inherited and doesn't weed out all the babies of these primroses that took so long to establish. 

Ninebark

Day 125
The Daily DuBrule

Do you know about ninebark plants? Physocarpus opulifolius is a great group of plants. We have a native green leaved ninebark, but these hybrid cultivars are way beyond that! Pictured above is 'Centerglow', so named because as the leaves open they glow with a brilliant bronze orange color. In the summer they are a coppery burgundy. Other varieties are a darker wine color. 

These shrubs bloom off of last year's wood. The flowers are round globes of white flowers. As they age, the calyxes of the flowers are revealed and they are a brilliant red. Eventually, the shrub is covered with red seed pods. In the winter, the bark is tan and a bit exfoliating (peeling) and I think it is very attractive. The habit is arching and the height ranges from 4-5' tall to 8-9' tall.

Physocarpus in late June with feverfew

I have found this shrub to be very hardy, thriving in full sun or partial shade. Deer will nibble on it, but it's not at the top of their list. Everyone comments about it when they tour the Natureworks gardens. I plan on adding quite a few more Physocarpus plants to my home landscape in the next few years. Good foliage color, easy care, and durable. It fits my criteria just fine. 

A crazy combo with Maclaeya cordata