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Trees & Shrubs

My hydrangeas are beginning to blossom. This spring’s cooler, rainy weather has given my Annabelles a boost I haven’t seen from them in years. This year, their flower heads are massive and so purely white that they gleam in the sunlight and shimmer in the moonlight. Their foliage is deep, forest green and not one leaf is wilted. At this rate, I’ll be able to enjoy them all summer long, at least until the rains stop and I have to remember to water them daily. As soon as I forget a day or two, then the downhill battle to save them begins.

My lilac bush was especially beautiful this spring. It bloomed nonstop for nearly three weeks, filling the deck with its heady fragrance. After the last few storms we’ve had though, it’s beginning to look a bit bedraggled so I’m sure that its time is coming to an end.  After its show-stopping performance this year, I wish that I had planted more flowering shrubs in my garden.  I guess that I didn’t realize how much enjoyment flowering shrubs can bring to the landscape.

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.

A few years ago my husband and I took a short vacation in Arizona. While we were there, I fell in love with the desert and with desert-inspired landscapes. Rather than seeing a barren wasteland of rock and sand, which is what my preconceived notion was, I saw a place filled with unexpected beauty and an overwhelming sense of tranquility. Life seemed totally in balance there, taking and giving in equal measures. Earlier this year we talked about going back there to tour the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix before the hard winter set in, but we just didn’t make it. Snowmaggedon hit first and trapped us here. 

We have a nearby neighbor whom we affectionately call “Blower Man.”  We don’t actually know him – he lives directly across the quarry from us – but we definitely know when he’s outside doing yard work. The deafening sound of his enormous leaf blower drones on hour after hour, often chasing us inside until he finishes. As annoying as it is to be sent into retreat mode on a picture-perfect fall day, I find it heartbreaking to think about the environmental impacts of stripping a property bare of every fallen leaf. Autumn leaves are, I believe, Mother Nature's gift to the earth. 

Have you ever seen the hilarious Abbott and Costello sketch Who’s on First?”   Over the  weekend I happened to overhear (Ok, I was eavesdropping; it was too funny to miss) a conversation that immediately reminded me of the sketch. A relatively harassed sounding salesperson was trying to explain to a very confused woman the difference between an evergreen and a conifer. She just wasn't getting it and the longer they talked, the more confused they each got. I have no idea why they were having the conversation in the first place, but it did get me thinking about the two terms.  

I have spent the last two months cleaning debris from my mimosa tree off of my front patio, porch and even my   entryway.  I love the tree in the summer when it is covered in blooms and hummingbirds are flocking to its sweet nectar, but I have to admit that I curse at it a  bit the rest of the year. Why anyone would plant such a messy tree right next to the   house is way beyond my understanding.

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.