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Gardeners and their Gardens

After three rounds of harsh weather conditions – frost, hail, torrential rain storms –  the early spring beds in our area are, to put it bluntly, toast. My lively pink hyacinths, which had greeted guests with their happy color and welcoming, spicy fragrance, now look like this (image) With their unexpected demise, I guess it’s time to start planning and preparing summer beds!

We were in Phoenix a week ago, spending time at the world-renowned Desert Botanical Garden. The desert plants were in bloom, giving an entirely different feeling to what is usually an austere sight. While we strolled the paths, hummingbirds soared the skies above us, occasionally swooping down to stop and have a sip of nectar from a wildflower and then zooming away. Even though I logically knew I was much further south In Phoenix than at home and that the timing of seasons is slightly different, seeing so many hummingbirds in late March surprised me.

At the beginning of every year, I spend countless hours reading and researching the newest trends in outdoor living. Usually, as I read through my array of resources, I see a huge variety of suggestions for luscious new additions to and modification of outdoor spaces. Each source often has their own take on what are the leading trends of the year. This year was different. Instead of an assortment of vastly different ideas, there seemed to be a common thread running through the vast majority of articles I read. The overall theme for 2025 outdoor living trends seemed to focus on creating a personal connection to nature that permeates your daily life. 

After discovering so many new varieties of milkweed, my newest obsession for the spring season is to start a butterfly garden in my front yard that features a variety of milkweed plants. I think that it would not only be a great stopover site for migratory monarchs but would also nurture dozens of other pollinators as well. As an added bonus, it will blend perfectly with the “little patch of prairie” we put in a few years ago. 

Last Saturday, I spent the afternoon reading picture books with my granddaughters. One we read was called  Home Is Calling by Katherine Pryor,  about the migration patterns of monarch butterflies. (It’s a beautiful book filled with gorgeous illustrations and factual information woven together in lilting prose. The teacher in me was impressed!) Ironically, the very next day I happened upon a report from the World Wildlife Fund in Mexico stating that the eastern monarch population in central Mexico has nearly doubled this year, occupying twice as much forest land as last year. According to researchers' estimates, that means that approximately 28 million monarch butterflies are currently overwintering on about four acres of forest. (A number to celebrate, but nowhere near numbers from the late 90s when butterflies covered over 45 acres of forest.) While the number of butterflies in Mexico may not seem pertinent to us here in the United States, it actually is encouraging news for us too. It could be a sign that we can still save this iconic species from extinction  –  if we understand them and purposely work to help them..

Online information can be a great help or a huge hindrance. 

Browsing the internet the other day, the title of an article caught my eye:  It’s Time To Prune Your Hydrangeas. Well, I thought, on one hand that’s true, but on the other hand it’s false. The reality is that the kind of hydrangea you have determines when and how you prune it, not a blanket reminder from the internet.

For years, I believed what the catalogues and plant tags told me --  the only light categories I needed to worry about were:  full sun, part sun or shade. In the last few years though,  I have begun to appreciate the fact that shade is not a one-size fits all situation. It is variable and it is transient. There are multiple degrees and types of shade and each nurtures its own, wonderful plant palette. 

Portions of my yard lie in deep shade throughout most of a summer’s day. Combine that with incredibly terrible soil and the result can be summed up as a discouraging mess.  I felt like planting annuals in those spots was just condemning beautiful flowers to a long, slow death sentence. Although I knew what would happen, I just kept planting, longing for the summer color. Finally, desperate for success, I dragged some giant-sized clay pots to the barren beds and planted them with shade-loving annuals. Those first pots certainly wouldn’t have won any design prizes, but at least the flowers lived and bloomed throughout the summer.