Orchids make beautiful and cost-effective floral arrangements

Orchids in a bowl for a tabletop arrangement.

There is nothing like an arrangement of fresh flowers to add instant magic to your home. Store-bought bouquets are a great way to go, but the shelf-life of the plastic-sleeved posies can be a little brief. Why not invest in an inexpensive orchid or two to live on your dining table? Chances are you will get a couple of months of bloom out of them.

Orchids love daily watering but do not like to sit in water. Bright diffused light makes them happiest. Phalaenopsis orchids are available nearly everywhere these days and are easy to grow. I rarely attempt a re-blooming from the orchid plants. Often I will move them outdoors, if it’s summer, and then retire them to the compost bin for winter’s rest.

In this photo: I picked up some clearance orchids at the local Ikea ($1.50 each!) and casually planted them in a ceramic bowl (by the pottery wheel virtuoso Harriet Campe). The two orchids came in an bark planting medium. I gently de-potted them and set them in the bowl and surrounded them with a large nugget mulch that I had in a garden bed. I water nearly every day with a light drink (warm water please), never adding enough to collect in the bottom.

I’ve had these babies for nearly two months. Not a bed return on a floral investment.

Lobelia ‘Palace Royal’ holds court in my containers

Lobelia 'Palace Royal'

I wrote an article for the upcoming March issue of Northern Gardener magazine on taking one pot through all four seasons, swapping out plantings accordingly. It was a hoot to have this test pot in my garden though the spring, summer, fall and into the the holidays. It was my baby, my test kitchen. I cared for it fastidiously and it showed. May I tend all my pots and plantings so intimately this coming season.

I mixed it up in this particular container, going for the classic mix of thriller, filler and spiller, as well as  textural and color contrasts. It makes for a pretty splashy affair. Such mixed plantings work especially well as a focal point, near a doorway or a sitting area. It’s a great way to get some fun variety in a limited amount of space.

Out and about in the perennial borders, I love a pot full of one variety. It’s a clean, classy pop of color; very useful  to perk up a garden area. Lobelia ‘Palace Royal’ is a plant good enough to eat. The purplish/blue gentle flowers are so soft to the eye and touch.

I have the most luck with them in planters… they do well with plenty of watering, but must be well-drained. They love the sun, as long as they don’t bake. So sun and water and no wet feet will keep them happy. They really are striking… use them a lot.

In the above photo, because they are such a tidy, contained plant, they help the rusty old milk can work as a planter. The blue #27 was our farm’s # when we brought the cans of fresh milk into the Arlington Creamery every morning, as a sidenote. The Clematis ‘Ernest Markham’ gets along nicely, with the color of the lobelia.

When in doubt, a pot of one variety of flowers will have impact.

Moose sighting in Minneapolis front yard

Moose sighting in Minneapolis.

The elusive Minneapolis miniature front yard moose was spotted this week fleeing the crazy-driving mini-vans near a school at 4th and 47th in south Minneapolis.

It is a  long-held belief that his sighting indicates the we have seen the worst of winter and spring is on its way. His sighting is a more reliable forecast than Puxitony Phil.

Take heart frozen ones. We have turned the corner. Step outside and take a breath. If you get real still, you will notice a difference in the air. The sense of the earth beginning to warm.

Look around and visualize yourself in your garden. Begin to see the pots overflowing with petunias and the perennial borders filling up. Imagine the warm breeze on your skin and begin planning for the greatest gardening season yet.

Dare I say cabin fever…

I’ve always shyed away from using the terms cabin fever or stir-crazy to describe my January state, fearing that the naming of it would even more fully claim it.  Well, I’ve got it big time. I think it’s a worse state of affairs for those who rely heavily on digging in the dirt.

I come home from work and I can not settle down. I pace, usually back and forth from the kitchen, stopping for another bite of supper du jour. I pick up the knitting, which zens me for a moment, but then I am, out of nowhere, clicking through the American Idols and House Hunters. It would all be different if I could be working outside.

I don’t recall it ever being this strong.

Before I kill the dog, I simply must develop and practice some tactics for relief:

1.  The indoor plants are not really doing it for me anymore. I mean, they’re fine, but it really isn’t the pinching back of a leaf or the watering of a pot that I need. I need activity, so I am harnessing my energy to re-invigorate the giant ficus in the living room. Tonight I am off to Ikea, Home Depot and any big box in my way in search of a pot that is more cute than spendy. I will also purchase river rock (buying rocks is such inane folly) and top the soil with them.

2. I will aerobically exercise like a Pitt or Clooney. Work off that steam. Exorcise the winter demons by sweating them out. Hey, I may be in my best shape of the year by the time the soil needs to be turned. Much like gardening, it’s hard to think too much when exercising.

3. Re-visit the seed catalogs. Dreams turning into creative visualization. I’ll stick to my one order a year limit, but I will plot and plan as much as I want. Choosing and re-choosing my $40 worth. When you open a seed catalog, you can almost smell the fresh air.

4. Stand outside and take in the air. Especially in the morning. If you do so, just as the sun is rising, emotions rise up. Faith, hope and plain old looking forward can get you through a lot.

Could it be: the nastier the winter the bigger the spring payoff?

Seed catalog temptation

Oh, to order or not to order. That is the question sparked by the buy $25 worth, get $25 free stickers on each. In years past, I would pile up the catalogs, making lists, even spreadsheets noting what I was ordering from each of the tomes of impulse purchasing.

Then the boxes would come. Don’t get me wrong; there are deals to be had. But the tiny little pots and (heavy sigh) bareroots aren’t exactly like shopping at the nursery. The items are extremely infant and a little sad and lonely when treated like a nursery-sized perennial in the border.

I now let myself have one order, because the half off deal on the cover is as titillating as the weight loss headlines on the checkout magazine covers. Its a shot of encouragement on a 5 below January night.

So I treat myself to the one indulgent order. But I follow a few maxims:

1. No bareroots (read the fine print) unless the plant is a real must-have.

2. Ignore #1 if it’s a delicious plant that is typically started from bareroot in the spring, like a dahlia or canna.

3. Splurge on a perennial that is tough to find, like Blue Sea Holly.

4. Get an unusual houseplant. Like a Myer Lemon Tree.

5. Go for the attractively priced trees and shrubs if size doesn’t matter to you.

6. Buy something that you never would without seeing it in a seed catalog, like a grow your own mushroom box.

Most of all, commit to changing your plans the evening that the box comes from the catalog warehouse, ususally somewhere in Ohio or Michigan. Though they are a bit of a pain, the seed catalog is a piece of gardening history that I hope never goes away.

Red in the morning, gardeners take warning…

November sunrise through the oak trees

Not really. A sunrise like this does stop you in your tracks though. My instinct was to scramble for the camera, but first I just took pause and soaked in the colors: the fire-pink, magenta, indigo blue and glowing lavender set against the stark black outlines of the the gnarled oaks.

Then I grabbed the camera.

The borrowed landscape is a useful and wonderful part of the garden, particularly in the small space spot. The neighbor’s majestic oaks serve as backdrop and somehow fool the eye into thinking they are part of my property.

Plus, I do not have to continually pick up all the little stick droppings.

Consider, the vista beyond when designing your own scape. Artfully incorporating distant trees, buildings, and landmarks gives the impression that your garden goes well beyond what it really does. You have an instant back 180 acres!

Kiss my aster

Purple perennial asters pop in the fall border

I could kiss my perennial aster I love it so much.

I am not sure of the particular variety , but I believe it is ‘Purple Dome.’ It is hardy to zone 4 and was purchased at Home Depot when it was in bloom. All the tag gave me was “Hardy Aster.” I used to poo-poo all the blooming perennials that are pushed at you in the garden centers, but they do help you plot your progressive blooming if you pay attention.

Asters are great additions to the perennial border. They are easy to overlook because you need to wait to September for the payoff, but its a big one. A couple shots of their royal purple help to pick up the dappled bits of purple throughout the garden and bring the whole plot to life.

They also bring out the bluish tones in the fieldstone path and complement the blushing red rouge of the Sedum ‘Autumn Joy.”

Run out while the getting is good and plant yourself some asters. You could also plant them in a pot and and wait to get them in the ground by October 1.

Hosta Love

One of my paintings of a hosta leaf.

I love hosta. I heart hosta. I experience hosta love. Anyway you say it, I know I am not alone.

Even the dentist office hostas make me happy. You know the variety of which I speak. The nothing too flashy, oh well, these will work here hosta. And they do work. They are the little workhorses of the shade and partial shade garden.

The best advice I ever received about creating a hosta bed, glade or grotto, is to mix your greens, blues, and golds. It creates a hosta quilt and a textural feast.

Hosta bed in the front yard

My only regret with my hosta bed is that I have not labeled my collection. I have over 50 varieties, I believe, but no idea what is what.

The hosta leaf is what I truly love. They have always struck me as looking a lot like little hearts. So I got the paints out last weekend and captured this on canvas. It’s true hosta love.

The art of the hosta leaf

Basil Hay Day

Basil in the vegetable garden

Whenever I see a bouquet of basil at the grocery store for $5, I say a little thank-you prayer for my stand of it out back in my veggie garden.

I will always overplant basil. Undoubtedly, some will bite it on that first killing frost, but even then, it is rather like freeze-drying a batch. I just pull the crunchy bits off the stalks and lightly crumble into jars to keep in the pantry.

This year we have the lettuce leaf and Genovese (named after the famous mafia family, I am thinking?) fighting to send up their little flower heads. We are thinking that next year we will go with just the lettuce leaf. It is easier to deal with…maybe a little less spicy tasting.

But for now…it is pesto, pesto, and more pesto. When you have a small field of basil, you start making pesto at every meal. I just leave the food processor on the countertop during this season and rinse off the bowl and parts after each use.

I’ve adapted my own recipe, which might actually be more of a dip to some, but a person can add more olive oil to make it into a sauce. I also use sunflower seeds in place of pricey pine nuts. Here is my recipe (roughly):

1/3 cup sunflower seeds
about 5 big cloves of garlic
1 medium green tomato
Process in food processor on high speed ’til nicely chopped

Throw in a generous handful of basil and process ’til it is incorporated. Sprinkle in about 1/3 grated parmesan and add oil until it all comes together (doesn’t take much oil). Salt and pepper.

This is a lighter, lower calorie and lower fat pesto. As I mentioned, add more oil if you wish.

Sometimes we make pesto-brie bites. Slice off a bit of baguette, put a small piece of brie on and top with a dot of pesto. Put under broiler for about a minutes. Divine.

I love this season!

Confessions of a Nature Boy

Catalpa trees

I run with the wind sprites and cavort with the garden fairies. I admit it. I have even been known to hug a tree, both for my sake and when I can see the tree needs it.

I am also a dedicated Catalpa whisperer. I love the Catalpa tree. Considering it is such a perfect tree for my Zone 4 garden of Minneapolis, it is also so wonderfully tropical. The enormous ace of spade leaves are a little tropical and a bit pre-historic. The elegantly hanging seedpods are like nature’s Christmas tree ornaments. The orchid-like, fragrant flowers that appear en masse’ in mid to late June are heaven scent. It has an upright growth habit, making it ideal for small city lots and even though mine has never been tested, they have been reported to be quite storm resistant. When tornadoes whipped through southern Minnesota seven or so years ago, the Catalpa was listed as a perfect replacement tree. Oh, and they re-seed prolifically.

Which prompted my Catalpa project. Now, I certainly don’t advocate the overplanting of a particular species (think Elms), but I do think they have their place in many a Minnesota yard.

The above photo captures two skinny little fellows, transplanted from my yard, awaiting pick-up by a fellow Catalpa lover. They had been wilting a bit from stress, but this morning when they were doing so well, as if they picked themselves up by the bootstraps and put on their best face for their new owner.

They were excited to be going to their new home, like an adopted puppy from the pound. I was a little melancholy to see them go.

If you live in south Minneapolis and would like a Catalpa seedling, let me know.