Planting In March


I know I made much this past week about planting a more beautifully designed hanging basket.  The challenge was such, I have the troubled dreams to prove it.  All of the notes I made this past summer inexplicably disappeared.  The lesson here-any idea, phrase, phone number, concept or design that you really need-write it down, and insure its safekeeping.  Notes and notebooks, scrapbooks, file folders, magazine clippings-all of these are a good idea.  Some ideas occur way ahead of their time.  Keeping them written down, visually documented, and readily available is the best backup to insure that what is close to you heart gets a hearing when the time is right.  Well, the time isn’t really right yet, but I was ready anyway. 


I wanted to be past the dreams stage.  It was time to put my show on the road. I drove out to Bogie Lake Greenhouse yesterday with Pam, and some containers in tow.  I had an idea to plant some 50 containers for spring, in addition to the hanging baskets of my dreams.  Ambitious, yes.  But the big fact of the matter is, as Coach John Wooden once said, “It’s what you learn after you know it all that counts.”  My big ideas got a dressing down.  I am used to planting at the shop; I have already sorted through everything that Mark has available, and have at hand the plants that strike my fancy.  This is a highly edited version of his greenhouse.  Many of them are in color by the time I get them-I rarely buy plants from a list-I buy what I see, and like. Pam got right to work-she had all of the containers filled in no time.  I was cruising the greenhouse with Mark, when reality began to sink in.    

Spring plants in mid March are  tiny green blobs-a few roots, and not much leaf to speak of on top.  I faced an ocean of violas and pansies-all green.  They are just where they need to be, perfectly timed-to be perfect in a month.  I don’t know about you, but  great color combinations in spring pots can be tough to achieve.  The blues, lavenders, violets and red violets in pansies don’t always go together.  Red violet pansies look great with red ornamental kale-dark purple pansies go blah.  It became apparent that I would need to rely on my memory of color, my memory of the colors in the various mixes-or the notes that I could not find.  If I was thinking I would have mature plants in  color from which I could design-I thought wrong.

You can see from this picture that all of the purple in question has a decidedly red-violet cast.  Do I know the names of these pansy and viola cultivars-no.  Even when I did manage to match a cultivar name to a picture in a seed catalogue, I did not feel one bit better.  Color pictures in a catalogue may give a feeling for a color-or not.   

The purple is this bicolor pansy is not at all red violet.  It has a heliotrope blue cast, to my eye.  Red-violet alyssum in this pot would make me wince.  Citron alyssum, which has a decidedly cream yellow cast, would have worked better than the white alyssum you see here.   

So I did what I could-all of the schemes came from my head and memory. Pam planted pairs of pots with a variety of spring annuals including pansies, violas, phlox, angelina, osterospermums and so on-and we’ll find out later if I can design in the dark.  I didn’t even approach the hanging basket planting project-I see I have to plan them on paper.  The time to plan combinations is at the height of the season-when color, texture and mature size is all right there to be seen.   

I have new resolve to photograph all of the flower cultivars I like to use-from the start of the season to the close.  I will have then a catalogue of my own making, so I can plant green, if need me.  We’ll see how far I get with that.

Though these baskets are lush and well-grown, I have something different in mind.  To that end, I’ll spend some time planning, before I plant.

A Catalogue Raisonne

A catalogue is a book that describes a collection of some sort.  A catalogue raisonne usually refers to an exhaustive list of artworks that can be attributed to a given artist. Both describe to my mind a seed book.  How so?  A seed catalogue may represent an exhaustive list of what nature has created.  Or it may be an exhaustive list of what a seed house has created in conjunction with nature.  I read seed catalogues in the winter, though I grow little from seed.  Reading about gardening is one way to keep involved when no digging can be done, and the garden is in hibernation.  The catalogues provide information about plants that can be grown from scatch.  They also detail the merits of particular cultivars, advice on germination techniques-I like reading it all.  Of course the first purpose of a particular seed catalogue is to sell their seeds-so every variety sounds like a must have.          

As I am easy prey to the thought that I must have everything and anything associated with gardening, I read the seed catalogues, cover to cover, hanging on every word.  Buck is enormously amused that I will read a seed catalogue devoted exclusively to tomato seeds, and based on what I read, make a list of my top 7 tomatoes to grow-even though I never go so far as to order the seed and actually grow them.  I read, reread, and saved every plant catalogue published by White Flower Farm; I learned a lot about perennial plants by virtue of that rereading.  I have also read plenty of nonsense in catalogues-there really is no substitute for trying things out yourself.  I have a collection of vintage and antique seed catalogues which I treasure.  Most of them list seed that is no longer available.  The drawing of John Shrimpton chrysanthemum pictured above-an artist’s charmingly rendered idea of what the purchase of a packet of seeds might bring to a garden.        

Sutton’s Seeds has been in business in the UK since 1806.  This says a lot about them, and it says a lot about the importance of gardening in England.  My Sutton’s catalogue from 1935 lists many varieties of Sutton’s pansies.  Does this mean that Sutton’s actually hybridized and produced seed themselves?  I see no Sutton’s pansies on their current web catalogue.  I am sure how seeds are produced has changed considerably since 1935.  But as I have no plans to actually grow pansies from seed,  I have as much interest in the 1935 version as the 2011 version-maybe more. 

Many of the early 20th century American seed catalogues were illustrated with black and white drawings, or etchings. Who knows when photography became more common in seed catalogues.  Many of these renderings are quite beautiful in and of themselves.  Drawings and photographs of the plants and flowers that would grow from seed are an essential sales tool.  Can you imagine a seed catalogue illustrated with pictures of the seeds themselves?  Even I would find that daunting.  A seed catalogue is a catalogue raisonne of  hope as much as anything.  Buy some little black specks catalogued as cyclamen seed, and someday you will be rewarded with a plant with strikingly marbled foliage and masses of delicately beautiful flowers.   

The transformation of a seed into a flowering plant or tree or shrub has been scientifically documented in lots of ways.  But that in no way completely describes the process.  You might call this the art created by nature.  I call it a miracle. 

Anniversary salvia was a variety offered in the 1927 seed catalogue published by Marshall’s Seeds-in honor of their 25th anniversary in business.  They were located at 150 West Twenty-Third Street in New York City, New York, at that time.  William Emerson Marshall was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, and eventually apprenticed at the seed and nursery establishment John Downie.  In 1891, he emigrated to the US, and obtained a position in the greenhouses of the W. B. Dinsmore estate in New York.  Employment at a number of seed houses culminated in his opening Marshall’s seeds in 1902.  The 1927 catalogue states “Mr. Marshall’s sole hobby is gardening, and he spends his spare time in his garden in Bayville, Long Island.”  An extensive biography of every employee is printed in the beginning of the catalogue.   

The stories of the lives of the people who worked at Marshalls is at least as interesting as their Green Flesh muskmelons, and the beautiful etching accompanying the description of the plant.  They were all gardeners-but for the head of the packing and shipping department.  It was noted however that he was the star pitcher of the Marshall’s baseball team.

This fabulous black and white photograph of a trug loaded with peas had to have sold countless packages of Sutton’s Pioneer Pea seeds. I very well might have bought these seeds myself.  Not so much so I could eat the peas, though I do like peas.  What is so compelling here is how beautiful they are. And how beautifully arranged and photographed they are.

Customer service-Maule’s Seeds had that as well.  If you wished to pay for your seed over time, a specially color coded order blank was available, which stated “I am faithful in the settlement of my obligations, and give you my pledge that you may feel safe in trusting me as agreed.”  A credit system based on honor-much like a certain local produce stand I patronize. They are not always there-it takes lots of time for them to grow their vegetables..  I get my corn, and put the money in  the cigar box.  That I am able to do this, yet another raisonne d’etre for a gardening life.

Sunday Opinion: Why Do You Do It?

I read Rochelle Greayer’s blog, Studio G, an ambitious compendium and commentary on all things garden and landscape design related, almost every day.  One day she is seriously reflecting on how she interprets the body of information regarding the importance of organic food.  The next I am seeing before and after photographs by a neighborhood gardener that does all their own work.  This might be followed by information on new product design, a historically significant garden, or plants of interest.  Speaking of interest, her interests have astonishing range.  She does an incredible job of sorting, editing, distilling and reviewing.  She writes beautifully.  You know this, I am sure.  But I would go on to say that she writes with a serious intent  She is a garden journalist in the best sense of the word, but I so like that she crosses that  over with impunity, and makes clear her own point of view, her questions and concerns.  I recommend reading her.  I promise you will be dazzled.

One of her features that I especially like is her monthly “blogs I like”.   I have to say that when I made her list early last year, I was embarassed, but more than pleased.  But more important than that, I like checking out what she is reading now.  I so value how she shares.  More often than not, her blog is a sturdy bridge to places I really need to visit.  In February, a link to a blog she likes and reads every day-  I spent a lot of time reading there over the past few days.

In plain view when this website comes up- an addendum.  “for people who want more from gardening than a garden.”  I instantly gravitated to this community to which I believe I belong.  I read lots of their essays-many of which provoked me, and none of which disappointed.  No doubt,  I want more from gardening than a garden.  

Why do I garden?  First up, I love having my hands in the dirt.  The dirt of my subdivision childhood- understand that I grew up in a neighborhood reclaimed from vast tracts of dirt.  The dirt I am dealt, the dirt that is close by all the time, the dirt of my childhood-the dirt I make via composting-bring on the dirt.  Once I was old enough to make the shocking discovery that dirt enabled life-this made me a gardener.

 This is by way of saying that I no doubt I want more from gardening than a garden.  I want a way of life.  I want membership in any gardening group for whom the beauty of nature is a way of life.  I want exchange. I want community.  I want provocation.  I want a considerable, serious, and continuing discussion of aesthetics.  Many thanks for helping to provide this, Rochelle.  Thanks to you,  I have a new place to read essays about all of this, and more.

Studio G- you are reading this, are you not?

At A Glance 2: Captain Snowrageous

why can’t I be like this?