Here’s a snippet of a photo I shot this summer:
What is this mysterious glowing object? (I did not manipulate this photo in any way other than to crop it) Answer Monday!
By the way, Lynn asked if we could do a posting on how to make our landscapes more wildlife friendly. We’re doing even better than a posting – we’re doing a whole week’s worth of blogs on the topic! Thanks for the suggestion – and the rest of you feel free to suggest topics as well.
Just go back and watch the video that Bert the Incensed posted Monday. I can’t top that.
Hope he’s had a beer and calmed down since. Now I need one.
My first reaction was more like slack-jawed disbelief over the nonsense contained within. A second viewing brought my blood pressure up a notch. For instance, I swear he says “Calcium nitrate” softly and then quickly rephrases it to “vitamins and minerals.” There’s more crap in this video than a dairy retention pond. Kudos to whomever put the “Garden Professors” comment on the site.
If the content is reasonable, I can overlook questionable video production values, such as the host also serving as the director (“Over here…there ya go!”) and the bug crawling across the lens. But for this train-wreck of misinformation, it was doubly irritating.
Deep breath. Let’s part on a positive note, shall we?
Here’s the little-known, summer and fall-blooming Salvia involucrata (Rosebud Sage). Alas, it is not hardy for me, but is for Zone 7 and up. Took this last week before the hard frost (I really do think of y’all when I’m running around with my cocktail and camera at sunset…)
Fresh, light green foliage to about 4′, nice branching habit, pinkish petioles and stems, topped with a fabulous, fuzzy, flower explosion. In HOT PINK no less.
Glorious. And perfect for getting your Garden Tart TM on!
Thank you so much, Linda – I believe you’ve coined the perfect description of my gardening style. Hee, hee.
Well, this was a tricky puzzle! Here’s a more complete picture of this interesting plant:
This, believe it or not, is a weigela – specifically, a patented cultivar named Kolmagira. You can see part of a tag in the lower left part of this photo:
As the patent description reads, this shrub possesses “…yellow green and dark green variegated leaves with purple-colored margins…”
Some of you guessed that the leaves might be variegated due to fall senescence, or disease, or drought stress – all very good guesses. And now I’m going to reveal one of my biases (yes, I am opinionated! I know you’re surprised!)
I dislike these types of cultivars because they look environmentally stressed and/or diseased. I’m a plant stress physiologist by training, and that’s just the way I look at abnormal leaf coloration. And on a more aesthetic note, do our gardens really need these tarted-up plants? Let’s discuss it!
It’s that time of year – leaves are turning all shades of yellow, orange, and red – so I thought I’d use this leaf for today’s puzzle:
I had to photoshop this extensively so it’s a little rough looking. But it does have a toothed margin.
So – is this an example of autumnal coloration? Or something else? Extra bonus points if you can identify the genus of this plant.
Answers and another photo on Monday!
We usually look up to the trees for the spectacle of fall foliage color but there’s plenty happening down low. Ornamental grasses in autumn are, of course, amazing – I think I’ll give them a post of their own. But there are a few perennials that consistently deliver good fall color instead of turning to brown, crunchy paper.
For the shade to part-shade garden, Polygonatum odoratumthen ‘Variegatum’ is a plant for three seasons. Arching stems
spring forth in, well, Spring, with fresh green and white variegated
foliage. Pairs of little creamy bell-like flowers dangle from each leaf
node. The foliage looks terrific all summer long, and you get a shot of golden yellow for fall.
More reliable than a tulip poplar! Newport, VA, October 10.
I know I’ve mentioned Amsonia hubrichtii in some past posts, but I just can’t help it. Finally, finally named “Perennial Plant of the Year ” for 2011 by the Perennial Plant Association. Not sure what took so long. Exhibits the best boofy habit of all perennials (somewhat like “floofy”, but rounder). Native to southern/central U.S. and totally drought tolerant. The pale blue star-shaped flowers in late Spring are fairly underwhelming, especially given all the other stuff going on at the time. The fine, needle-like foliage adds a wonderful soft texture throughout the summer. As the days shorten and the nights cool down, it begins to glow…first a soft gold, and then adds bronze and apricot to the mix – basically a color twin of Sporobolis heterolepis (Prairie Dropseed, previously described in a GP post).
The first flush of gold, just getting going in our garden last week…
In full glory. Late fall at Chanticleer (Radnor, PA).
Some cultivars of Hosta, such as ‘Sum & Substance’, reliably produce gold fall color, as do some ferns. Any others you’d like to add to list?
A few brave souls dared to take on Friday’s puzzle. Here’s a more revealing photo; the "tongue" is actually the top of a pitcher plant:
Kudos to Hap for correctly identifying the genus (Sarracenia) of this carnivorous plant. This particular one is S. purpurea, which is distinctive in that it has dark red, open pitchers rather than hooded ones. You can easily see the downward slanting hairs in the throat of the pitchers. These hairs, as Diana pointed out, keep trapped insects from climbing back out of the pitcher.
This pitcher plant is part of my nifty bog garden that we put together this year. If any of them get big enough, I’ll have to try Hap’s unorthodox method of slug disposal.
Well, maybe it’s not a cat tongue (no way my cats would put up with this), but what is it? Name both the plant and the function of this tissue for full credit!
Answer and more photos on Monday – have a great weekend!
I’m a big Barbara Kingsolver fan. Just finished “Prodigal Summer” – her tall, lanky, introverted, 40-something forest ranger-heroine encounters handsome, mysterious, much younger guy in the woods; sparks fly, etc. Rowr! Ahem.
I really enjoyed “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” when it came out a couple of years ago. It was the perfect dead-of-winter read as she captured flawlessly the itch to grow things, the scent of thawing soil, the joys of mud, the overwhelming greenness of spring, the mess of canning tomatoes. I was only slightly annoyed at the quiet pace and perfectness of her home life; as a normal working stiff I don’t have time to bake my own bread daily, or make fresh mozzarella every time we have pizza for dinner (darn this time-consuming, bill-paying job).
But I was totally mesmerized by the cover art – her daughter’s cupped hands filled with the most beautiful shelled beans in the world. The huge maroon and white Christmas Limas shined like leguminous jewels. Now THAT I can do.
So, Dr. Miss Smartypants here devoted an entire row to them this spring – about twenty feet with plants spaced on one-foot centers and a 20’ x 6’ span of netting for them to scramble up. The second 20’ row was planted with red and green yard-long beans (see my previous post about how fabulous they are). Both rows received the same amount of irrigation (a little), weeding (some), and zero additional fertilizer except the pre-plant amendment of chicken poop (of which we have a lot).
Summer wore on, life got busier. The yard-long beans just kept coming despite drought, stinkbugs and 3’ tall lambsquarters. I’d poke around wistfully in the Christmas Lima vines – there were a few green pods buried amongst copious foliage. I do know these kinds of beans do better in hotter, drier climates, but it’s been pretty much that kind of summer here.
The pods finally, FINALLY filled out a bit and turned dry and brown – ready to pick!! I filled most of a five-gallon bucket and sat down with a beer to shell them (OSHA requirement).
Behold, my bounty!
Total yield: one mess of beans. Two if used as soup components. Yes, they’re listed with Slow Food USA’s Ark of Taste. Yes, they are indeed beautiful and will probably be totally delicious whenever I get the nerve up to cook them.
It’s just… I’m not sure how to put this… but a family of four would BLOODY WELL STARVE if they devoted much of their garden to these lovelies. I don’t know whether to eat them, frame them, or string them onto a necklace.
p.s. still getting yard-longs by the handful…
Friday’s puzzle scared you off! Matt was correct – this is an African violet (Saintpaulia spp.). But unlike other African violets, this one never opens its flower buds (Sandy nailed it!). Originally cultivated in Germany, these plants are marketed in the US by Optimara Violets. That’s all I can tell you about this quirky little cultivar.
I’m in Dallas for the next 4 days attending the GWA (Garden Writers Association) annual conference. (I get to give a talk on Horticultural CSI on Sunday!) Tonight we had a slew of vendors to explore, and among the offerings I found this plant:
So today’s question – what is this plant? And what makes it so unusual? The first question might be easy – the second one, not so much.
Answer and more info on Monday!