Deadheading Primroses

Recently, I experimented with various  plants in order to determine which would be a healthier plant if I did some old-fashioned deadheading.  Some worked well; others didn't.  I thought it might be a good idea to share info about primroses with those of you who love them as much as I do.

Primroses (Primula polyanthus) are an old-fashioned perennial that have enjoyed popularity for hundreds of years.  They are native to the Northern Hemisphere.  Over 400 species of the rosette-like plant exist both in the wild as well as cultivated in proper gardens, and one of the tricks primrose gardeners learn early is that their primrose bed will last much longer is properly deadheaded.

Deadheading Primroses

Tip: Make sure to sterilize your scissors or pruning shears before using them to deadhead your primroses.

Deadheading simply means grooming the plant. By removing the spent flower, you prevent your plant from going to seed, and allow it to mature. Cutting back the spent flower stems also encourages new growth, so you'll see fresh flowers. Once your plants have started to thrive, a simple walk around the garden several times a week allows you to see how your primroses are progressing and whether you might need to clean up the flowers that are spent.

·        Start checking your garden in late spring.

·        Carry a pair of scissors or a small pair of pruning shears in your pocket for the task. Some gardeners prefer to simply pinch away the spent flower between thumb and forefinger, but a set of scissors makes it easier to snip away the dead flower/leaves.

·        Wear rubber gloves since some people might be allergic to certain varieties of plants. It also curbs the spread of disease if your naturally oily fingers are protected. Certain floral diseases easily spread when our fingers flit from one flower to another.

·        Look for the flowers that have begun to fade or are drying out.

·        Reach down to the base of the flower stalk and hold the dead flower gently.

·        Bend the flower to expose the stem, then either pinch or snip the dead flower away from the plant.

·        It's a wise idea to carry a small bag or wear an apron and drop the dead flower in the bag/apron rather than on the ground. You can dump your deadheaded materials into a recycling pile when you're done with your task.

·        Because too much water will rot primroses, check them occasionally and clip off any yellow or rotten lower leaves you see around the base of the plant. Removing rotten leaves promotes new growth. Your primrose bed might seem a bit droopy after you deadhead and trim old growth, but you will be rewarded when new buds start to arrive.

·        If primroses get too wet, they can develop conditions like crown or root rot and garden bugs, like aphids or spiders, may attack the plants.

Once your plants stop blooming, pull the primroses from the ground or your pots and put into containers until fall. The best soil is gritty and humus-rich. Keep your containers in a sheltered spot and keep the plants moist but not wet.

Growing Primroses

You can grow primroses from seed or purchase your plants from a grower.  If you choose to grow them from seed, be aware that the seeds are exceptionally small and it is difficult for the novice gardener to be successful starting these plants from seed.

Most primula varieties flower reliably and are easy-to-grow. Plant them in sun or partial shade and make sure to choose an area or pot that provides good drainage.  Primroses don't like to be wet!  If you can shelter them, you'll have very happy plants.

Offering your plants liquid fertilizer every 2 weeks or so will encourage them to produce fresh buds and create a beautifully flowering plant. 

Varieties

Most of the 450+ species of the genus primula like cooler weather and will not tolerate midsummer heat. They come in every color of the rainbow and the species names span the alphabet.

The varieties are distinguished by their rosette of leaves that resemble the leaves of a head of lettuce. In the center of the rosette are the flowers. Each flower has five petals joined at the base.  Flowers appear on leafless stalks. Common colors include white, red, blue, yellow, purple, and cream, but some species also produce bi-colored flowers.

THE POEM

Many poets have written about the beauty of primroses, but this one is my favorite:  

"My Primrose" by Joseph Horatio Chant

My sweet primrose with thy open face,
And with fringe-like leaves, without a trace
Of coarseness, either in flower or stem,
Among all my plants thou art the gem.

My lovely lilies soon disappear;
Thy bloom is constant through all the year;
In summer's heat and winter's cold,
Undimmed the light of thy floral gold.

Or if thy color be pink, or blue,
Or white as snow, thou art ever true;
My room is bright with thy smiling eyes,
And thy fragrance rare I also prize.

Thou hast done thy part, my little pet--
Let me keep thy roots forever wet,
But guard with care all thy tender leaves
And growing crown, which the earth-crust heaves.

Thou dost heaven-ward tend, aspiring high,
To kiss the stars in the vaulted sky,
And they look down from the azure blue,
My sweet primrose--they are smiling, too.

Gardening Advice: Getting rid of flying ants

Quick Tips to Get Rid of Flying Ants

By Dawn Reno Langley

Most ants crawl, but some varieties fly, and those might get into your hair, your food, and your trash, but some are far more damaging than irritating. Getting rid of the pesky creatures is fairly easy if you know how—and if you can determine what type of flying ants you have.

Types of Flying Ants

Before you bring out the pesticide spray to get rid of those pesky flying ants, take a closer look to determine what type of bugs you have. According to University of Florida entomologists, several characteristics make it easy to distinguish termites from flying ants. Because there are dozens of types of carpenter ants, some of which fly, gardeners and home owners should look at the features that are easiest to identify. The University of California’s Integrated Pest Management Program offers excellent graphics of the differences between termites and ants, which include:

·        Wings:  Termite’s wings are equal length; flying ants wings are longer in the front and the rear set of wings is half the size.

·        Waists:  Ants have a constricted waist and termites have a broad waist.

·        Color:  Ants are dark; termites are a lighter color.

Where They Live

Ants nest in debris or foliage around a building’s foundation, but they also can build nests in small cracks or holes anywhere in a building. If you find them inside your home, it is a good idea to determine whether the flying creatures you see are, indeed, flying ants or whether they are termites. Carpenter ants damage wood structures almost as effectively as termites, and the easiest way to see whether your building is home to them is to scrutinize the area around your siding and walls for little trails of sawdust.  Those trails indicate there’s a nest nearby.  Whether it’s a nest of termites or carpenter ants, you must be proactive.

When You Find Them

If you discover flying ants during the summertime, there’s a good chance they just happened to get inside because your house/building is more open during that season. If it’s wintertime, chances are they’ve nested in your building. Flying ants are not active in the winter. Termites tend to swarm around rotting or moist wood, and if you see them inside, you might have an infestation. If you determine you have termites, call a pest control company. If you have flying ants, you can take steps to handle the infestation yourself.

Protect Your Garden and Buildings

1.      Trim bushes and low shrubs that hug the foundation of your building.

2.      Keep mulch at least a foot away from siding.

3.      If possible, create a cement barrier at the base of your building.

4.      When building fences or decks, choose a termite-resistant material.

5.      Keep structures dry and well-ventilated.

6.      Remove piles of wood or debris from the area.

7.      Repair any cracks or holes in your building.

Removing the Ants/Termites

·        Contact a professional termite control company if you suspect you have a termite infestation. They are licensed to use the correct pesticide to rid your building of the damaging pests.

·        Use over-the-counter pesticide baits if you have flying ants in your garden/building.

·        Make a natural pesticide bait with borax and sugar.  Mix evenly and leave a small dish of the mixture near the nest. Clean frequently.

·        Be careful to follow instructions.

·        Peppermint spray is a natural remedy for flying ants. Mix peppermint oil (purchase at your local natural food store) with dish detergent and water in a spray bottle.  (One part soap, two parts water, several drops of peppermint oil).  Shake well and spray.

·        Spray dish soap on the ants. The heaviness of the soap weights down their wings, bringing them to the ground where they will die.

·        Pesticide sprays tend to scatter ants, thus bait traps are more effective.

·        A bug zapper works on most flying insects by luring the bugs into it, then electrocuting them.

·        Carpenter ants are stubborn and may not succumb to baits. Check with a professional if the bait traps don’t appear to be successful.

Today's Poem -- About Ants

Ants

Ravi Shankar

One is never alone. Saltwater taffy colored 
beach blanket spread on a dirt outcropping 
pocked with movement. Pell-mell tunneling,  

black specks the specter of beard hairs swarm, 
disappear, emerge, twitch, reverse course 
to forage along my shin, painting pathways 

with invisible pheromones that others take 
up in ceaseless streams. Ordered disarray, 
wingless expansionists form a colony mind, 

no sense of self outside the nest, expending 
summer to prepare for winter, droning on
through midday heat. I watch, repose, alone.

Coming Back to the Earth

When all else fails, I come back to the earth.  Sadness looms, and I dig my fingers into the dirt.  Pull a couple of weeds.  Plant some bulbs.  Inhale the deepest, reddest rose I can find.  Look into the pale blue sky and find the black brushstroke that is a swallow and watch it flit through its universe until it disappears.  Nothing works better than the garden for taking away pain and anguish and despondency.

On the converse, nothing works better than gardening when you want to relish the happiness you might feel.  Watch a bearded lily unfold, rejoicing in its ability to reach for the sun, and you can open up your own heart and feel the beauty of nature.

It's deep spring again in North Carolina, and the flowers I planted in the garden last spring are blooming or beginning to bud.  The jonquils are long gone, the lilies starting to peter out, the roses in the garden at the empty house across the street are in their first blush.  Daisies are rising from the ground and gardenias becoming their glossy, forest green.

This part of the year reminds me of the reason why so many great poets write about nature, so I offer another to you here.  This one is a simple yet profound statement on the season by e.e. cummings.

          III

Spring is like a perhaps hand 
(which comes carefully 
out of Nowhere)arranging 
a window,into which people look(while 
people stare
arranging and changing placing 
carefully there a strange 
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps 
Hand in a window 
(carefully to 
and fro moving New and 
Old things,while 
people stare carefully 
moving a perhaps 
fraction of flower here placing 
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

Balcony Gardens

It's funny that I'm coming back to this blog now that I have no garden and now that we're just finishing what I HOPE will be the last snow of the season, but here I am and I hope to continue, even though it'll be different from my previous blogs

I've moved from my home where I had planted hundreds of bulbs, trees, and countless seeds.  I think about those gardens now, and I could probably tell you exactly what's in bloom at this very moment.  The irises are starting in the rear gardens and beside the garage.  Jonquils are probably just about gone in the back garden.  And the roses are starting to get leaves.  There will be lots of new shoots coming out of the beds in the front under the porch and within the next couple of weeks, when people go by the house, they'll slow down to see the kaleidoscope of colors.

And I will never have the pleasure of tending those gardens again.

Yes, I'm sad, but I am continuing to plant flowers.  This time, though, they will all be on baskets that hang on my porch at the apartment I now call home.  And I hope to add some orchids for inside the house, as well.

So, things change, but they remain the same.

Travel: Other People's Gardens

On a recent trip to London, I found myself looking in people's front/back yards and visiting as many gardens as possible.  I'd been there before, so I was familiar with the larger gardens (the Kew, for example), but this time, I thought about those smaller spaces that city people fill with whatever plants will fit.  Londoners are good at this.  Some windowsills overflowed with ivies and pansies, even though I couldn't see evidence of a windowbox.  Outside front doors, baskets of petunias added some bright colors to normally dingy brick buildings.  Pubs were especially cheery with hanging baskets, and roses bloomed in every square foot at the base of stairs leading into apartment buildings and offices.  But my favorite place was Kensington Gardens.

We walked from Buckingham Palace through Green Park (where we sat in deck chairs to watch streams of people passing by -- they charge for the deck chairs, but on a hot day in London, we happily paid the one pound five pence).  Then we wound our way down along Bayswater Road, enjoying the vendors with their artwork and admiring the stately hotels on the other side of the street.  At Hyde Park, we competed with groups of people who had come to the park for the triathlon being held that day.  Every major throughway was roped off so that bicyclists and runners could make their way to the end of the race and the tents set up near the Serpentine.  We sat at the Serpentine Restaurant for pizza and Cokes, watching Londoners in paddleboats on the lake before continuing our journey.

Little did we know how long our walk was, but by the time we reached Kensington Palace, we were ready for some cold drinks and rest.  It was the perfect place to sit for a moment.  Princess Diana's favorite place and her home while in London, Kensington is a smaller Palace, but no less stately than some of the others in England.  The gardens are formal, Italian in design, yet they have whimsical elements brought in by Queen Victoria and enjoyed by Diana herself.  When we were there, archways leading to the gardens, were alive with what appeared to be grapevines, and the gardens bloomed in hot pinks, reds, yellows, and deep purples. 

Of all the parks in London, this appeared to be the most family-friendly, probably because of the playground area built to memorialize Diana in 2000.  Because it was such a nice day, the area was full of happily-screaming kids climbing all over the pirate's ship and shimmying like eels over and around the other structures in what appeared to be the best public playground I've ever seen.  (We were not with children, so didn't get to explore in detail.)

Today's poem celebrates English gardens:

English Garden by Bernard Shaw


My love for an English garden,
It knows no bounds.
I will never have to ask for pardon,
As I stroll these lovely grounds.

Many are the shrubs, bushes and flowers,
They fill my heart with joy.
Here I have spent many happy hours,
For most of the flowers are shy and very coy.

Hollyhocks abound in every colour and hue,
Great delight I find in every nook and cranny.
A few of the flowers are for me new.
Most of the names I was taught by my dear Granny.

I have wandered around gardens of all kinds,
In most parts of this wonderful Earth.
There is something in a garden that my soul binds,
Nature shares with me every new birth.

But in an English garden such as Kew.
Gardeners put on a wonderful show.
That refreshes me through and through,
As I am sure it will you if you take the trouble to go.

The Gift: Green Tree Frog

Every once in a while, you find a "friend" in the garden.  More often than not, it's a surprise, a little step back, an 'oooh,' then a smile and a laugh when you discover that "friend."  I find myself spending welcome time with those gifts and wanting to share them with other gardeners, or children, if they happen to be around.  Such was the case last night . . .

It's been exceptionally hot here in North Carolina lately, hovering around 100 degrees for the past four or five days.  Naturally, the garden suffers.  Colorful flowers start to droop, normally robust green leaves fold into themselves, everything tries to protect itself from the normally friendly sun.  We gardeners know that this is the time to help Mother Nature along a little and to provide some extra watering whenever possible.  I've been making it a point of trying to water in the morning, but last night, after a stunningly stifling day, I went to the porch to gather my watering pot and placed it under the faucet to fill while I put supper in the oven.  It's a big watering jug, so it takes several minutes for it to fill.  I didn't pay any attention to it until it sounded like it was near capacity, then turned back from the stove to use both hands to take the jug out to the porch.

When I reached for it, I noticed one spot on the handle was a brighter green than the rest of the jug and with a start, realized I had brought a rather large tree frog into the house with the pot.  He sat there, frozen into his spot, his fat little body anchored on the handle, even after I lifted the watering can to bring it outdoors.

All the way to the porch, I kept talking quietly (like the frog knew what I was saying), hoping he wouldn't hop off before I had gotten him outside.  My cat -- old as the hills but still spry -- seemed to realize that we had a "visitor" and would have been quite happy to follow him around the house had he hopped off, and I really didn't want to have a chase on my hands.

Outside, the frog remained on top of the watering can, so I started watering the geraniums near my door, then the pots of pansies that line the stairs.  Still, the frog sat on the handle.  I now had the chance to study him more closely -- the racing stripe down each side of his squat body, the large suction cups on his three-toed feet, the way his sides swelled with each breath. 

Still, he hung on.

By the time I got out to the mailbox to water the basket there, I noticed one of my neighbors taking a bike ride around the block with her little son, an adorable boy of five with light brown curls down to his shoulders and the most striking tiger-colored eyes.  He's a precocious kid, and I knew he'd get a kick out of the frog, so I called him over. 

His excitement spilled over, and though he reached out, he didn't touch the frog -- simply lowered his face so that his long lashes were almost close enough to touch the frog's body.  The conversation began.

"Does he like leaves?  Do you think if I give him some grass, he'll eat it?  Where does he live?  How high can he jump?"

We chattered for a while, and I shared my rather pitiful knowledge of what a tree frog does and what he eats.  Mostly, we just laughed every time the little frog moved.

We shared a good ten minutes of "frog time."  Then it was obvious the frog was done with us and wanted back to his natural habitat.  We let him go.  I went inside to get more water for the plants and told my husband of the adventure.  Then I realized I had no photographic evidence, so I went outside to see if I could still find the frog, and there he was -- hiding in the lip of my garbage can, enjoying what little shade it offered.  I took a photo with my phone and went inside, still smiling.

I love garden gifts!


The Frog by Hillaire Belloc


Be kind and tender to the Frog,

And do not call him names,

As "Slimy skin," or "Polly-wog,"

Or likewise "Ugly James,"

Or "Gap-a-grin," or "Toad-gone-wrong,"

Or "Bill Bandy-knees":

The Frog is justly sensitive

To epithets like these.



No animal will more repay

A treatment kind and fair;

At least so lonely people say

Who keep a frog (and, by the way,

They are extremely rare).

W.S. Merwin: Poet Laureate

Though my garden is sprouting only Echinacea/Cone Flowers and my roses have been cut back to the quick of their lives (because of the rampant Japanese beetles), I have been thinking about gardening, still, and I realize that I need to continue writing about poetry and gardening, even if gardening is not uppermost in my mind at this moment.  I thought that I would devote today's blog to the items in my garden that are medicinal.  I was going to talk about echinacea and foxglove, but when the news came this morning that W.S. Merwin would be named poet laureate, I thought I would write about him instead.

Merwin is one of those poets with whom I connect on many different levels.  First of all, he grew up with those poets in the 1960s who wrote of freedom and activism; secondly, he is a Buddhist, thus I understand the weighted simplicity of his words; thirdly, he is committed to preserving the land beneath his feet, and since he lives in Hawaii, that land is exceptionally beautiful; and finally, I always thought he was one of the most romantically handsome of the poets who have written during the last thirty or so years.  (Look at some of his earlier photographs!)

I think we have made a good choice in Merwin, though I don't believe he'll do as many personal appearances as other poets.  He does have a distinctively American voice, unapologetic, multi-layered, full of angst about his family and the world around him.  I look forward to seeing what he will create for this country.

And, of course, he has written about gardens:


What is a garden

All day working happily down near the stream bed

the light passing into the remote opalescence

it returns to as the year wakes toward winter

a season of rain in a year already rich

in rain with masked light emerging on all sides

in the new leaves of the palms quietly waving

time of mud and slipping and of overhearing

the water under the sloped ground going on whispering

as it travels time of rain thundering at night

and of rocks rolling and echoing in the torrent

and of looking up after noon through the high branches

to see fine rain drifting across the sunlight

over the valley that was abused and at last left

to fill with thickets of rampant aliens

bringing habits but no stories under the mango trees

already vast as clouds there I keep discovering

beneath the tangle the ancient shaping of water

to which the light of an hour comes back as to a secret

and there I planted young palms in places I had not pondered

until then I imagined their roots setting out in the dark

knowing without knowledge I kept trying to see them standing

in that bend of the valley in the light that would come





CHORUS



The wet bamboo clacking in the night rain

crying in the darkness whimpering softly

as the hollow columns touch and slide

along each other swaying with the empty

air these are sounds from before there were voices

gestures older than grief from before there was

pain as we know it the impossibly tall

stems are reaching out groping and waving

before longing as we think of it or loss

as we are acquainted with it or feelings

able to recognize the syllables

that might be their own calling out to them

like names in the dark telling them nothing

about loss or about longing nothing

ever about all that has yet to answer