Twig and Branch

unpruned roses, gardenias and sons

2008-02-03T22:28:00.000-08:00

As I was pruning a rose last week l let my body go through the automatic motions of cuts and clips. I have pruned so many roses over the years that I can work while my thoughts go elsewhere. On this particular rainy morning i was remembering my first encounter with rose pruning.
I was 8 years old in a small farm town in southeast Michigan. The snow had melted and spring was trying to establish itself when my mom mentioned to her brother, my uncle, that our rose needed some work. Well, being that he lived only a block away he rode his lawn mower over to cut the grass and tend to the rose. Since my dad had moved out we relied on our family for help around the house.
My brother and I were playing around in the back yard when we heard our mom raising her voice and getting angry with our helpful uncle. It turned out that he not only mowed the grass but the large, unruly rose bush too. Right down to the ground! My uncle reassured her that it would grow back and not to worry but that didn't calm mom down at all. In fact it seemed to incite her more. My uncle rode away chuckling as mom grumbled into the house and all the way to next year. Even the regrowth of that rose did not quiet her grumbling. To this day, 38 years later, it is still a laugher in our family.
Over the years of watching my mom garden I have recognized her style of gardening. She likes her garden to have good growth with a loose and free approach. She tends to the plants and trees yet lets them be what they are. She worries about storms that pass through and is joyful at every little bloom. She never gives thought to replacing what she has and introduces other plants that are good companions.
In many ways this is the way she brought up her two boys. She would give anyone the dickens that tried to prune us in. She would nurture us with a steady love and room to roam. Mom let our natures develop. There were boundaries and we were taught that good manners were important. And even though we are responsible for every gray hair on that sweet woman's head, we always respect and appreciate how free we were as children and as we are as adults because of her approach to raising us. I am looking forward to walking through her garden with her and to hear about the latest attempt by my step dad to prune back the gardenia bush (it really does need it!).

unpruned roses, gardenias and sons

2008-02-03T22:26:00.000-08:00

life is like a vine

2007-08-22T22:42:00.000-07:00

Like a vine growing so is life. With roots firmly set down I, and the vine, reach out. Reaching here and there, growing upward and onward, intertwining and flowering. Whenever I plant a vine I want to see it thrive, grow, cover, spread, flower, and sneak up on me.
Almost all vines, be they rose or grapes, sneak up on you. I mean, you plant the thing and let it go. you watch it, sure, but then in the effort to let it establish itself, it grows into places you may not want it to grow. The next thing you know it has taken over or grown into your neighbors redwood. Tsk, tsk.
Life can be just like that. A simple action here or a negligent action there can vine out to sneak up on you later. Care must be administered in almost everything we do everyday. The results can be unwanted or desired, but care must be given to our conduct everyday. You never know when your action/vine will reach out and touch your neighbor in a displeasing way. Conversely, you never know how your conduct/vine will flower and benefit those you come in contact with.
The vine is beautiful in the way it wraps itself around the nearest object. I cannot think of an ugly vine. Having said that I have had to remove a gazillion miles of kudzu but even so there is a beauty to it's determination and desire. To see it hanging from towering sugar pines in an afternoon Georgia rain is quite beautiful...as long as they are not my sugar pines.
My favorite vines are: clematis armandii, hardenbergia, grape, jasmine, climbing fig, vine hydrangea, bouganvilla and honeysuckle.
Vines I prefer not to plant are: bower vine, wysteria, ivy, giant honeysuckle, morning glory, passion vine, and potato vine.

am i training it or is it training me?

2007-05-17T17:17:00.000-07:00

Solanum Jasminoides. Potato vine. I never recommend this plant to anyone. It falls in the same category of undesirable plants such as bower vine, kudzu and ivy. Not having desired one yet being the tender of one, i have stopped to reconsider my relationship with this vine.
The potato vine in question came with the house we bought two years ago. I could tell it was recently placed in a corner to hide some unattractive, patchwork fencing. It had no irrigation and was left to wander. I immediately had the urge to remove it , like a compulsion to pluck a wayward eyebrow hair.
Yet i have not removed this vine. I have used it wisely yet it has been an effort to maintain. I thought i might train it to cover a large open area under our decks. The gap it has filled is 25 feet straight up and it filled the space in a matter of months.
What i am finding is that the vine has trained me. I have been conditioned, in a classic pavlovian sense, to react to the sight of growth that presents itself above my railing. When i see just one new runner swaying in the wind, i cut the taunting new growth immediately. I am a live and let live style gardener but when it comes to the sneaky, spreading ,all over everywhere type plant, i know i must reign it in.
When i had to clip the plant from below, from above and from a 25 foot extension ladder, i knew i had been had. When i set out to train the vine i had no idea it would in turn train me. I can't say i am happy about it but the sheer wall of green with the numerous clusters of white flowers are quite lovely.
Just one more lesson to learn from the natural world of plants and our unnatural applications of them and our ever entwining interaction with the plants i love and do not love. Solanum jasminoides, observo!

Frustrated Weekend Gardners

2007-04-25T10:59:00.000-07:00

"Put down the shears and step away from the boxwood, sir."

Over the years, I have witnessed havoc and destruction befall many a garden by eager husbands let loose, unsupervised, armed with loppers and shears. I have seen apple trees that look like they went through a blender. And Rhododendrans that appear to have been involved in combat. I don't know what goes through the mind of garden novices that empowers them to pick up these implements of mass destruction, but they bear a grudge (often permanent) to the plants they attack.

I offer some advice to the prune prone weekend gardener:

• Don't prune or trim while mad. Take a deep breath before venturing out with garden tools. Remember that plant didn't do a damn thing to you, so don't take it out on shrubbery.
• Plants don't come with an owner's manual. So don't think you can read a book and then go for it. The result is usually flora abomination. Even from my own experience as a professional, I find diagrams misleading.
• Hire a gardener. These folks usually know what they're doing and, like a house cleaner, don't cost as much as you would think. Watch them. Talk with them. But please do not venture out into the wilds of your garden to trim, prune or cut anything. At least until you consult with a knowledgeable gardener. Then try it yourself.

American Lawns

2007-04-25T10:19:00.000-07:00

As I have traversed many a lawn over the years, lawnmower in tow, I have often wondered how we come by the desire to keep our little kingdoms so manicured and tended to. I make this observation without judgement. Personally, I like loose, wild and natural gardens as much as my perfect lawn - mown weekly, I might add.

Historically, I have seen the American Dream come to fruition through tiny blades, varying in hues, of green grass occupying land of the middle and wealthier classes. The less fortunate either tend their garden themselves or prefer a more natural look that requires no maintenance. But peoples' focus on their lawns reflect more than their socioeconomic standing. As life gets more hectic, your lawn (like your desk) evokes satisfaction and clarity when organized and well-kept.

As a country, we are young. We have not gone through the rigors of trial and error (failure) that older countries, like that of Europe. The settlers brought to America the ideals of land management and formal gardens that years of vetting hath wrought. We had a form of instant gratification in that early America. Instant knowledge of how to make each piece of land aesthetically pleasing and productive. When you see photos of town and city homes from the daguerreotype of the late 1800s, the gardens and grass were pristine. Two centuries later that instict still follows.

Nothing short of an alien invasion or severe draught will deter people from their lawns, myself included. I believe there is always a place for lawns in landscape. As Calvin said to Hobbes, 'You can tell how good your day was by the grass stains on your knees."

Michael Pollen suggests in his book 'Botany of Desire' that by way of evolution plants have made themselves attractive to humans, thus ensuring their survival. Grass is a beautiful case study.

Does a well-manicured lawn reflect upon us as a whole? Are Americans little princes and princesses that deign ourselves important by the grass we keep? Are we masters of our land, our lawns? Perhaps. But the truth is, the grass is no greener on the other side. And if it was, it'd be harder to mow.