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Flowering & Foliage Plants

My youngest granddaughter is an absolute ball of fire. She has boundless energy, endless curiosity and the attention span of a gnat. She seems to be everywhere at once, talking a blue streak, except when we are in the garden and the butterflies flutter in. Then she is mesmerized, standing quiet and still as a statue hoping a butterfly will land on her like it did at the butterfly house ages ago. Watching the expression on her face as she patiently stands, wishing for one to find her, makes me determined to create a butterfly paradise so, just maybe, she might get that wish. 

I fell in love with prickly pear cactus six years ago on a trip to the desert Southwest —. not as a plant to grow, but as a food to eat!  It was delicious in salads  and made lemonade taste so much better. I ordered it at every restaurant we ate at. When we got home, I found some pads for sale and immediately snatched them up with the intent of recreating those culinary delights I’d had. After a couple of days of intently studying the increasingly limp cactus pieces, I realized that I had absolutely no clue what to do with them, so they wound up in the composting bin and I moved on. 

The United States covers an area of  3,119,884.69 square miles, has eight distinct physiographic divisions, nine climatically consistent regions and literally hundreds of  types of micro-climates. There are over 70,000 different soil types and access to water sources is highly inconsistent, even within a region. Having taught Geography for years; intellectually I realized that eco-systems differed from place to place. What I didn’t consider was how difficult that makes the issue of invasive plants. Simply put, what is invasive in one area, is not in another. And. to make matters even more confusing, as climate continues to change, the make-up of invasive plants in an area will also change.

Purple loosestrife has been a hot topic around here lately…

Even after 50 plus years in the horticulture field, I still have a hard time reigning myself in at the first sign of spring. If the sky is blue and the temperatures are in the 70s for a few days in a row, then I convince myself that spring has fully arrived and my entire garden should be springing into life. Inevitably though, when I make my rounds, several of my prized plants are not yet budding out and I panic, convinced that they are dead and need to be IMMEDIATELY replaced.. Before I can do any real harm to the beds, my husband gently removes the shovel from my hands and reassures me that not all plants emerge at the same time  – some simply need a warmer soil temperature to wake up from winter’s resting period.

In a normal year, if there even is such a thing anymore, I would wait until the end of April to begin preparing for the return of my hummingbirds. After checking this year’s interactive migration map (https://www.hummingbirdcentral.com/hummingbird-migration-spring-2024-map.htm)  however, it appears that I don’t have time to wait. Ruby throated hummingbirds, our regional species, have already been spotted across the entire state of Missouri, including a spotting right here on the Katy Trail. 

Every spring I tell myself that this will be the year that my container plantings will be “knock out gorgeous.” But somehow, what I see in my mind's eye doesn’t come close to the reality of what’s in front of me. They aren’t awful,  just amateurish.

After two very successful seasons of trapping and relocating groundhogs, I thought I had finally conquered my four-footed enemy.  Since there had been no sign of him after July, I felt confident that he was gone for good... or at least one season. So, I went ahead and put in my dream spring garden.  I planted cabbage and broccoli, spinach and lettuce, bok choy and snow peas, carrots, radishes, onions, potatoes. I even added some marigold seeds to ward off uninvited insects.  Bordered with pots of pansies, it was beautiful!  I was happy.