31 May 2008

tomorrow: everybody out!

I looked at the weather for the week, and I see that night-time temperatures are settling into the 50s. Time to plant all of the dahlias outside. I dropped poor “Little Beeswings” on his head this afternoon; hope he recovers. The others I did NOT drop, and they all look great.

Fingers crossed that this is the year I grow some beautiful dahlias.

l&s slope progress

The “Katherine Dykes” shrubby cinquefoil is settling in; actually, it looks like it’s always lived on the slope.

After a bit of a rough start (brown tips on the leaves) the Russian cypress seems to be taking hold. I noticed some new growth this evening. Very happy to report this development.

Still have to mulch around the red osier dogwood and the Rosa rugosa. But, honestly, things are improving out there on that ol’ slope.

under the lilacs

The Siberian bugloss is blooming now along with the bleeding heart and the beginnings of the dame’s rocket. So beautiful and shimmery. I half expect a little pixie to wave at me from behind a clump of ferns.

frost? heat?

When B and I arrived this evening it was still light enough outside for us to check the gardens. Just about everything in B’s vegetable garden looks great, but two of his tomato plants have shriveled, dried leaves, although the plants seem to be fine. We had a few chilly nights last week (near freezing), so he wonders whether the crispy leaves are the result of cold. I wonder whether the soil dried out too much during the week. We’ll never know.

My garden is looking nice. The purple smokebush is up (Cotinus coggygria “Royal Purple”), and it looks smashing. The blahblahblah Rosa rugosa (“Blanc Double de Coubert”) is sending out its leaves, as is the butterfly bush. The sweet peas are up, the “Bloodstone” dahlia (thanks, Kentucky family!) I planted out last week is looking healthy and green, although it doesn’t seem to have grown at all, and all the smaller plants I set out look like they’re taking hold.

However, my phlox is a little (light) green around the gills. Chlorosis? The leaves are pale with darker veins, and they just don’t look right. I’ve never seen garden phlox look like this. I need to read up a bit to try to determine what’s going on. I wonder if other people’s phlox plants go through sickly periods.

okay, last order of the year

I couldn’t help myself. Bluestone Perennials is having its half-price sale (it ends tomorrow night, 1 June), so I was able to score some amazing deals on a bunch of plants. I wanted to plant some more astilbes in the shady area under the lilacs, and I REALLY wanted a Gaillardia “Oranges & Lemons” after salivating over the plants I gave to Alan, and the hellebores were on sale, and maybe a couple varieties of goldenrod would be kind of neat, since I’m sort of creating a goldenrod niche, and besides, the Brits are enamored with our goldenrod, and they know what they’re talking about, so maybe I should be more enamored of the genus Solidago, too.

Well, you get the idea. Then I decided I wanted to try a few more asters for the fall, so a day after I typed in my order on Bluestone’s Web site, I called and added two varieties of aster to the list.

This is what it feels like to eat too much candy. On the other hand, there certainly are worse ways to spend money, and—get out!—they were HALF PRICE!

So this is what I’m going to receive in the mail next week. Ready or not:
  • Anemone tomentosa “Robustissima” (definitely hardy to Zone 4, whereas the other two I bought a few weeks back may or may not be)
  • Aster novae-angliae “Hella Lacey” (if I remember correctly, garden writer Allen Lacey discovered this variety growing in his neighborhood in New Jersey and named it for his wife; I’ve been wanting to have this in the garden since I read that in, I think, his The Garden in Autumn—great book, by the way)
  • Aster novi-belgii “Alert”
  • Aster oblongifolius “October Skies” (both this and “Alert” are short, between 12" and 18"; “October Skies” is apparently a fine blue, and “Alert” is brick red; think I’ll plant them down under the ancient maple near the road, which gets a lot of sun, surprisingly enough)
  • Astilbe “Peach Blossom” (tolerant of dry conditions; medium height)
  • Astilbe “Spinell” (tall and red)
  • Gaillardia “Oranges & Lemons”
  • Helleborus orientalis hybrid (again, love ’em, why shouldn’t I try to grow ’em?)
  • Panicum virgatum “Shenandoah” (in celebration of my mom)
  • Solidago rugosa “Fireworks”
  • Solidago virgaurea “Peter Pan”
Gracious. All listed out like that. I’ll have a ton of planting to do next weekend.

I hope!

lemon lilies

When I planted the lemon lilies (Hemerocallis flava), I trimmed off all the buds from them except for one, because I wanted to be able to say that my lemon lilies bloomed this year. I noticed last week that the lone bud was swelling, so I crossed my fingers hoping that it might wait until today to bloom.

Unfortunately, it bloomed probably yesterday or the day before, but if the spent blossom is any indication, it is a rich yellow! I can’t wait until I have a whole clump of them blooming merrily away next spring.

But, yes!, my lemon lilies bloomed this year!

30 May 2008

useful post from kathy purdy

Kathy Purdy over at Cold Climate Gardening wrote a fantastic post called “Seven Gardening Gifts No One Will Give Me,” which include insulation supports (sturdy pieces of wire that are great for pinning down soaker hoses or making plant tags), flagging tape (I used a bunch of this when I was digging the daylily bed), tent pegs (ditto), baby spoons (for potting up seedlings), a grated cheese container (to fill with white sand and miniscule seeds for broadcasting), an empty feed bag (to use as a mini tarp), and a plywood scrap (to stand or kneel on in the garden).

I’d add to these great ideas a regular old tarp (to rake leaves onto), a piece of hardware cloth (to screen pebbles and large debris from compost), a roll of plastic-coated wire, and metal fence posts (to stake up heavy plants like tomatoes and dahlias).

Kathy has comments from readers who provide suggestions of their own. So many good ideas!

Thanks, Kathy!

rejoice in the lamb

I’m singing a concert in New York City next week. It’s called Benjamin Britten Blast, and we’re performing “Rejoice in the Lamb,” “Abraham & Isaac,” and “St. Nicolas.” Beautiful pieces. I’ve never sung “Rejoice in the Lamb” or “St. Nicolas,” so am enjoying learning them.

I was going over my music tonight, listening to a CD of “Rejoice” and following along with the tenor solo:
For the flowers are great blessings.
For the flowers have their angels even the words of God’s Creation.
For the flower glorifies God and the root parries the adversary.
For there is a language of flowers.
For flowers are peculiarly the poetry of Christ.

The text for “Rejoice in the Lamb” is by Christopher Smart (1722–1771), a poet who developed somewhat of a mania for religion. He was confined to various asylums and madhouses from about 1756 to 1763, during which time he wrote the two poems for which he’s best known, “A Song to David” and “Jubliate Deo,” which was the inspiration for “Rejoice.” In addition to the gorgeous section above, Smart wrote about his cat Jeoffry (Joy, I thought you’d like this):

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For I am possessed of a cat, surpassing in beauty, from whom I take occasion to bless Almighty God.

This is a person who loves his cat!

28 May 2008

bought and planted this past weekend

B, Alan, and I went to Williamstown, Massachusetts, on Sunday morning to visit friends. On the way back home, we stopped off in Shaftsbury, Vermont, at Clear Brook Farm, where B bought herbs and vegetable plants for his garden, and I bought the following:
  • Camassia quamash: B saw this and said, “We NEED that in the garden.”
  • Artemisia “Powis Castle”
  • Aquilegia hybrida “Songbird Blue Bird”
  • Lobelia cardinalis
  • Lupinus, red-flowered
  • Nicotiana alata
The camassia and artemesia were largish pots for a largish-pot price, but the columbine, lobelia, lupine, and nicotiana were six to a pack for $3.95 per pack. I LOVE Clear Brook Farm for their small perennials in six packs. I’ve bought a number of these six packs over the past few years, and the plants always thrive.

26 May 2008

rhubarb crumble: a first!

We have an incredibly overgrown asparagus bed from which we gather about three asparagus spears each spring (one for B, one for me, and one for whomever we want to impress with the Bounty of the Earth; this year it was Alan, who came north with us for the long weekend). Every year I promise myself that I will weed the bed and plant some new asparagus roots so that we can enjoy more than our normal half a handful of fresh asparagus in years to come. I’m a little further along with this plan this spring, having bought some new asparagus roots.

At any rate, at the top of this bed are two old rhubarb plants, which need to be divided (just found that out at The Rhubarb Compendium, a site for rhubarb aficionados: “Established clumps will have to be trimmed every 4 to 5 years or when the stalks get small and spindly or when the crown is visibly crowded.”). We have lots of stalks, but they tend to be a little on the spindly side. Still and all, whenever I walk by the plants, I always pinch off a stalk and eat it. I love the tartness.

Betty told us she was making rhubarb crumble for a party she was having, which sounded just great to me, so I Googled “rhubarb crumble,” found a likely recipe from Just Hungry that called for four or five cups of rhubarb, and went out to the garden to gather some while B and Alan worked in the vegetable garden.

The crumble was amazing. It’s good hot, warm, or cold. We ate it hot for dessert on Saturday evening with some vanilla ice cream, then cold on Monday evening on the way back to the city.

Rhubarb Crumble
  • About 2 lb rhubarb stalks, enough to make about 4–5 cups of cut-up rhubarb
  • 1 cup white sugar
  • 1/2 cup raw or light brown sugar (I used raw)
  • 4 oz butter
  • 3/4 cup white flour
Preheat the oven to 400°F. Wash and cut up the rhubarb stalks into approximately 1-inch pieces. Be careful to cut off any leaf parts as they are poisonous. Melt the butter and add the flour and sugar. Mix to make a rather crumbly mixture. Put the rhubarb in a pie dish. Cover with the crumble mixture. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until the crumble is browned and crispy. This is best at room temperature, or chilled a bit.

21 May 2008

hawk over the house

B didn’t realize he caught what looks like a hawk flying by when he took this picture of the house.

moonflowers on the horizon

Soaked a packet of seeds two days ago. Planted them last night and set the pots out on the fire escape. I love moonflowers.

19 May 2008

barn mowing

Betty lent B her string mower on Saturday, so B went all the way around the barn with it. We’re going to try to keep the area mowed this summer and are considering whether we’d like to plant some raspberries on an old broken-down fence B uncovered.

new roof and nurseries

Oh boy! First things first:

We had a new roof put on the house last week. It’s beautiful, it’s sturdy, it’s been a long time in coming. If you ever need a roof and you live in Washington County, New York, get in touch with L.W. Roberts. He came to take a look at the old roof when he said he would, gave us an estimate on the spot, and did the job when he said he would. Plus, his crew was about as clean as they could be.

Because we were so excited about getting the new roof, B and I figured one of us should be at the house to wave goodbye to the old, greet the new, and take pictures. So on Monday evening I drove north (sans B, who couldn’t take the time from work, unfortunately) and spent Tuesday and Wednesday at the house.

Because one can listen to roofers ripping off shingles for only so long, on Tuesday afternoon I took a break to go nursery roaming with Betty and two friends, R and J. We visited four: Zema’s in Stephentown, New York, where I bought two Japanese anemones (“Honorine Jobert” and “Queen Charlotte,” both of which are hardy to Zone 5) and a variety of astilbe called “Ostrich Plume” that I’ve had my eye on (it grows to 30 inches and has drooping pink blooms: lovely). Then we drove to Great Barrington, Massachusetts, for lunch, stopping on the way at a native plant nursery called Project Native, where I bought some wild ginger (Asarum canadense). After lunch we went to Ward’s in Great Barrington, where I found—drum roll, please—my “Katherine Dykes” shrubby cinquefoil! Very happy purchase! The last stop of the afternoon was at Windy Hill Farm, also in Great Barrington, where I was convinced by J to buy a beautiful elderberry: Sambucus “Sutherland Gold.” A smooth operator, that J. He appealed to my alleged thriftiness: “You know, this is a fair price, and if you bought it online, you’d have to pay shipping, and the plant you received probably wouldn’t be as nice as this one.” Actually, I didn’t really need to be convinced; it’s a beautiful plant.

On Thursday morning, my cup officially runneth-ed over: I received my Rosa rugosa “Blanc Double de Courbet” in the mail. On Saturday afternoon, B went out to do some errands and ended up buying seed for the bird feeders, a new outdoor faucet handle, a length of hose to reach out to the vegetable garden, and a butterfly bush (“Black Knight”) for me (the one I bought from Bluestone Perennials was ground into dust by a diligent roofer looking to clean up dropped nails; can’t blame him—the Bluestone butterfly bush was tiny).

An orgy of planting. Loved it.

Back roof going on last Wednesday:

Only some of the new plants (heh heh!):

15 May 2008

first mowing of the season

Scott came and mowed for the first time last Wednesday, 7 May. Last year he began mowing five days later, on 12 May 2007.

Yesterday he came to mow again. I asked him if he would try to mow a swath around the barn, and he did! B and I have some major cleaning up to do, but this first pass is a big help. Oops, I see a hawthorn branch that needs to be pruned . . .

a little bird action

B gets a quarter for spying the first male rose-breasted grosbeak on Saturday morning (10 May). I get a nickel for spying his large, drab mate last Saturday (3 May). Spring is now officially here!

lemon lilies and blanc double de coubert

Twenty-four lemon lilies (Hemerocallis flava) arrived on Monday. I gave six to my sister-in-law and six to my gardening friend Gina at the office and took the rest with me up to the house on Monday night. On Wednesday afternoon I planted them in two locations: Half in a partly sunny area I cleared out near the lilacs and half by the stand of ditch lilies (Hemerocallis fulva) up behind the slope. Slightly different environments: maybe slightly different growth patterns? We shall see.

The plants were well packed, and a few even have flower buds (I need to remember to leave some nice feedback for David at Pike Nursery on eBay). I cut most of the buds off so that the plants can put their energy to settling in this summer, but a few I left on because I’d love to be able to say that my lemon lilies bloomed this year.

And today I checked off another wish-list item: Rosa rugosa “Blanc Double de Coubert” showed up in my mailbox at work. Nicely packed and shipped by J.W. Jung Seed Company in Wisconsin. The bush is bareroot and full of leaf buds. I’m trying to decide whether it would be less stressful to M. Coubert to pot him up tonight and then transplant him this weekend, or to simply leave him in his snug box and get him into the ground first thing on Saturday morning. I’ll probably opt for the second scenario. He needs to rest up, though, because I’m planning on enlisting about 20 angels to urge him to “Grow, grow.”

I don’t know what’s going on with me this year. All this plant buying. I think I may have simply and finally realized that the flowers and shrubs I long for aren’t going to magically appear on the doorstep or in the garden. Sure, my weekly allowance is shot almost from Monday morning, but all these wonderful plants are making their way home to our garden, so it’s definitely worth it.

Hello, guy!


I picked a few violets on Saturday evening and left them on the front steps. B passed by and said he thought they’d make a nice picture. So, as an old lab partner used to say: Violia!

vegetable garden doings

On Saturday B worked in his vegetable garden. Technically, we’re square-foot gardeners with six four-by-four-foot raised beds we built in May 2005. In reality, B is guided more by his inspiration than by Mel Bartholomew’s book. Each year, we say to each other, “Maybe we should do it Mel’s way,” and then each year the square-foot gardening plan goes out the window, and B’s garden is nevertheless productive and gorgeous.

B noted that the soil level in the boxes was a little low, so on Saturday morning we dug in a nice bunch of compost (that I screened through some hardware cloth I bought a few weeks ago), composted manure, peat moss, a little more topsoil, and—in the carrot bed—some sand. The boxes are full of rich soil now, and Bill has planted the following: mesclun, carrots, beets, radishes, and peas. Much more to come!

I took some of the saplings—well, young trees, from the looks of them—that we’ve cut and dried and fashioned a twig tower roughly in the style of the one that Pam of Digging photographed in Austin. Mine is a LOT chunkier than the graceful one that inspired it, but it will do the trick, I think. For a first attempt, I’d say not bad at all.

11 May 2008


One blooming:

Another waiting in the wings:

06 May 2008

fairy lily leaves

. . . and some extroverted, camera-hogging pansies on the fire escape:

dahlia update

Yellow Gem: Up
Little Beeswings: Up
Kaiser Wilhelm: Up
Bloodstone: Really up

Still waiting on Andries Orange. Come out to play, Andries Orange!

I’ve just finished reading Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way with a small group here in Manhattan, and the final chapter is about how creativity requires that we be receptive and trusting. I like these sentences, seeing as how they are about how ideas germinate:
We speak often about ideas as brainchildren. What we do not realize is that brainchildren, like all babies, should not be dragged from the creative womb prematurely. Ideas, like stalactites and stalagmites, form in the dark inner cave of consciousness. They form in drips and drops, not by squared-off building blocks. We must learn to wait for an idea to hatch. Or, to use a gardening image, we must learn not to pull our ideas up by the roots to see if they are growing.

This is a great book. I highly recommend it. And I recommend reading it with a group and “checking in” with each other every week.

However, when I told my group that I was starting dahlias indoors and that I was poking my fingers in the pots every day and scraping the soil off the tubers to investigate whether they were sprouting, they all groaned.

Julia would not approve. Heh heh.

don’t stop!

I’m finding that when I create a plant wish list, the wished-for plants arrive in my mailbox, either through the kindness of Kentucky relatives or because of itchy keyboard fingers and Google. How about that?

Case in point: Would love, love, love to have some lemon lilies (Hemerocallis flava). Price for three from White Flower Farm: $21.95. But, really, COME ON. These are daylilies, Amos, and old ones at that. Price of 24 from Pike Nursery on eBay: $12.95. Guess where I bought mine?

And a few weeks back I read that New York Times article about weekend gardening, and one of the weekend gardeners recommended a rugosa rose, “Blanc Double de Coubert,” that sounded wonderful: fragrant, sturdy, long-blooming. Found it at Jung Seeds: Tappity-tap. Click!

Two more items from my wish list skeeeee-ratched off!

mulch evens it all out, doesn’t it?

On Saturday afternoon I edged the side closest to the driveway and then mulched the whole bed to death in the hope of keeping weeds at bay and conserving moisture, too.

I promise this is the last time I’ll post on the daylily bed for a while (or at least until they all grow up a bit).

From this:

To this:

plant taxonomist on west 11th street

As I was getting ready to cross the intersection of West 11th and West Fourth streets in the Village last night, I noticed a small, pretty tree just about to come into full bloom. It had a very helpful little sign on it, too:

Made me grin.

04 May 2008

cottage pudding cake

This is a perfect base for strawberry shortcake. It’s crumbly (even a little dry). The Fannie Farmer Cookbook (from which this recipe comes) says: “This is a good basic recipe with the pleasing flavor of butter.”

1 1/2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 pound butter
1/2 cup milk
1 egg

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Butter and lightly flour an 8-inch square cake pan. Mix the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar together in a large bowl. Melt the butter in a small pan, remove from the heat, and stir in the milk and the egg, beating well. Add to the flour mixture and blend. Pour into the pan and bake for about 25 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean.

And as if anyone needs guidance on assembling strawberry shortcake, well, anyway: Cut a square of cake, slice it in half like a sandwich, layer strawberries (that you sliced and sprinkled with sugar and a little vanilla a few hours ago) and whipped cream on the bottom half, cover it with the top, and spoon more strawberries and whipped cream over that.

03 May 2008

an old daffodil mystery: solved!

The Occasional Gardener left a comment on my old daffodils post: “I think it’s a Van Sion,” with a link over to a page on the Old House Gardens Web site (where I bought my dahlia tubers).

I think he’s absolutely correct! Thank you, Occasional Gardener (who, coincidentally, has a beautiful reminiscence about lilacs outside his bedroom window on his blog today).

Beautiful daffodil, isn’t it?

02 May 2008

cold, drizzly day

B and I drove up to Pleasant Hill late last night after an Ascension Day service in the city. We were still on the road when the clock flashed “12:00” and B magically became a year older. Today we went out and bought three lilac shrubs that we’re going to plant on the north side of the house so that they’ll greet us when we come up the driveway. If they grow as high as they’re supposed to (12 feet), we’ll be able to catch a whiff of their perfume from the upstairs bedroom. Lilacs are B’s favorite flower.

The three we bought are: “Pocahontas” (an early-flowering purple), “Beauty of Moscow” (pink buds that open white), and “Madame Lemoine” (snow-white flowers, very fragrant).

We had a nippy night this week. According to weather.com the low on Wednesday night/Thursday morning was 23°F; however, our thermometer indicates a low of only 25.5°F. Whatever the temperature, it did a number on the new butterfly bush and, surprisingly, the buds on the purple smokebush. They’ll both recover, I know, but I was still disappointed to see the damage.

On the what’s up front: Virginia bluebells! So nice! If I can get just a few plants established, they’ll start spreading around.

Also up: New sprouts on the blue fescue I divided two weeks ago, “Casa Blanca” lilies, tarragon, both clematis . . .

Poet’s narcissus are blooming (you can see one blossom hungrily eyeing B’s birthday shortcake in the post below).

I think we’re supposed to have showers all weekend.

Funny thing: As dry as April seemed, we actually had more rain than normal (actual: 5.43"; average: 2.87"). However, it all came during the first and last weeks. The middle weeks were warm and dry as bone.

Time to stop rambling and head for bed! We’ve got some lilacs to plant in the morning!

happy birthday, b!

01 May 2008

the may queen (garden bloggers’ muse day)

You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear;
To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year;
Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day;
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

There’s many a black, black eye, they say,
 but none so bright as mine;
There’s Margaret and Mary, there’s Kate and Caroline:
But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say,
So I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake,
If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break:
But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

As I came up the valley whom think ye should I see,
But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree?
He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,—
But I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white,
And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light.
They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

They say he’s dying all for love, but that can never be:
They say his heart is breaking, mother—what is that to me?
There’s many a bolder lad ’ill woo me any summer day,
And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green,
And you’ll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen;
For the shepherd lads on every side ’ill come from far away,
And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

The honeysuckle round the porch has wov’n its wavy bowers,
And by the meadow-trenches blow
 the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers;
And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire
 in swamps and hollows gray,
And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass,
And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass;
There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the live-long day,
And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

All the valley, mother, ’ill be fresh and green and still,
And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill,
And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear,
To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year:
To-morrow ’ill be of all the year the maddest merriest day,
For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother,
 I’m to be Queen o’ the May.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson

For a little more information on this cool idea, see Garden Bloggers’ Muse Day over at Sweet Home and Garden Chicago.

two of five dahlias are up!

I’ve got sprouts on two of my five dahlia tubers! Whoopee!

Suzann will be delighted to know that her choice, Bloodstone, is up, as is Yellow Gem!

(If you want to see pictures of these two, click on the “dahlias” label below and you’ll go to the other posts on dahlias.)

Now I’ll wait for the other three. Soon . . . soon.

Read a post over on Cold Climate Gardening last night about Kathy’s trouble with dahlias, and a bunch of other people commented on the trouble they have as well. Seems like I really should make an appointment with my neighbor on Route 31 to discuss how he grows his.

I’ll report back. Seriously, I think I may do this.