Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow
Okay, I had ambitious plans that involved regular updates on how my small, little, shady, urban garden was growing this year. Last year I went to Spain in May, prime gardening month, so nothing happened in my back yard except neglect. The year before (2015) I spent most of June in Australia...this is not a complaint...so I didn't bother to put in any annuals. I knew Samantha wouldn't think of watering them on a regular basis. But this year...this year I was staying home, mostly...and I could garden. I did, and I took pictures, but I didn't update as planned. Now you get what I've done and what I need to do, all in one probably indigestible post.
My house is one of six houses built in a little rectangle: three houses in front and three houses in back, sealed off at either end of the rectangle by previously existing, larger houses. (Center city Philadelphia is a prime residential area, every inch of it exploited to the maximum.)
Just to make the situation worse, I planted a sickly little maple tree in the center of my 9' by 16' back yard. It amazed me by flourishing and is now almost shading my second floor window which, confusingly, is up three stories. (Think British floor numbering system: ground, first, second. My first level is a walk-out basement on the house's concrete slab.) Furthermore, this maple has a dense crown and throws a deep shade, making the yard even darker.
As seen from second floor window.
Three summers ago, I had an arborist come out and cut 'windows' (his term) in the canopy, so that the garden gets more dappled sunlight. That helped but now the tree is vigorously growing into those windows, so they should be recut next spring, I'm thinking.
Anyway, this is what the yard looked like at the beginning of May:
Sadly, my garden may have looked better then than it does now. My lirope, an ornamental grass, has grown vigorously since then, in its campaign for world domination, and now is much less under control, as I'll show you later.
Up close, it looked shabby, however.
I got out my handy, dandy kneeling/sitting bench and got to work:
I bought this about forty years ago, when I was much more agile, and have blessed the day ever since. Now I use it year 'round, inside and outside the house, whenever and wherever I want to kneel.
Two years ago, one of the few things I did in the garden was to plant vinca next to the patio. I had one plant too many so I stuck it in the border next to the fence. That area gets next to no sun, not even of the dappled sort, so I was basically abandoning that poor vinca to die. Much to my amazement, it thrived:
Meanwhile, the vinca I had planted next to the patio were being overwhelmed by the rapacious lirope. I decided to make room for a border there by tearing out, as much as possible, the lirope and the vinca, and moving the vinca next to the fence. The vinca looked pathetic right after I transplanted it, but it has a strong will to live and is doing well, as expected.
Next I bought annuals for my flower boxes and pots. Some thrived:
If you want an annual that will be thankful no matter how poor the conditions, get a sweet potato plant. The big plant next to it is a hosta I dug out of the garden and potted up because it was being overwhelmed by...you guessed it!...the lirope.
Others did not:
Unfortunately, most of the local shops no longer sell annuals, so I am thinking of renting a car and going (not very far) abroad to Lowe's or Home Depot and seeing if I can get something to fill in with.
I could especially use more plants in the border area of the main patch with the tree:
We have had many overcast and rainy days, so both the lirope and my ferns are going gang-busters.
For several years, I thought of ferns as delicate and difficult to raise. Now, after they've survived tough winters and come back stronger than ever, I'm beginning to wonder if I've coddled another problem child. However, with both the ferns and the lirope, I'm glad to have plants that tolerate both dense shade and occasional drought. They both take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.
On the other hand, they -- along with the invasive ivy -- give my back yard the look of a half-abandoned house where an evil crone lives:
I've started working on my crone-ish cackle: heh, heh, heh.
This is an area that needs some serious work:
It's supposed to be a flag-stone walkway between the plantings and a gravel bed where we can pile our wood for the winter. When my husband was alive, we would buy a quarter cord almost every winter for our living room fireplace. I no longer do that. One or two packs of wood from the supermarket, enough for one evening's fire each, does me just fine.
I want to move what wood I still have down to the end of the bed with the vinca, closer to the house but still far enough away that no termites infest us. Next I should move any straying gravel back next to the fence, and take a look at my pavers: toss or keep. Next spring I want to line up pots on the gravel and fill them all with plants, including moving more of the poor hostas away from the lirope and into the safety of pots. In the process, trimming the ivy should help reduce the haunted house look. FanSee
My house is one of six houses built in a little rectangle: three houses in front and three houses in back, sealed off at either end of the rectangle by previously existing, larger houses. (Center city Philadelphia is a prime residential area, every inch of it exploited to the maximum.)
Just to make the situation worse, I planted a sickly little maple tree in the center of my 9' by 16' back yard. It amazed me by flourishing and is now almost shading my second floor window which, confusingly, is up three stories. (Think British floor numbering system: ground, first, second. My first level is a walk-out basement on the house's concrete slab.) Furthermore, this maple has a dense crown and throws a deep shade, making the yard even darker.
As seen from second floor window.
Three summers ago, I had an arborist come out and cut 'windows' (his term) in the canopy, so that the garden gets more dappled sunlight. That helped but now the tree is vigorously growing into those windows, so they should be recut next spring, I'm thinking.
Anyway, this is what the yard looked like at the beginning of May:
Sadly, my garden may have looked better then than it does now. My lirope, an ornamental grass, has grown vigorously since then, in its campaign for world domination, and now is much less under control, as I'll show you later.
Up close, it looked shabby, however.
I got out my handy, dandy kneeling/sitting bench and got to work:
I bought this about forty years ago, when I was much more agile, and have blessed the day ever since. Now I use it year 'round, inside and outside the house, whenever and wherever I want to kneel.
Two years ago, one of the few things I did in the garden was to plant vinca next to the patio. I had one plant too many so I stuck it in the border next to the fence. That area gets next to no sun, not even of the dappled sort, so I was basically abandoning that poor vinca to die. Much to my amazement, it thrived:
Meanwhile, the vinca I had planted next to the patio were being overwhelmed by the rapacious lirope. I decided to make room for a border there by tearing out, as much as possible, the lirope and the vinca, and moving the vinca next to the fence. The vinca looked pathetic right after I transplanted it, but it has a strong will to live and is doing well, as expected.
Next I bought annuals for my flower boxes and pots. Some thrived:
If you want an annual that will be thankful no matter how poor the conditions, get a sweet potato plant. The big plant next to it is a hosta I dug out of the garden and potted up because it was being overwhelmed by...you guessed it!...the lirope.
Others did not:
Unfortunately, most of the local shops no longer sell annuals, so I am thinking of renting a car and going (not very far) abroad to Lowe's or Home Depot and seeing if I can get something to fill in with.
I could especially use more plants in the border area of the main patch with the tree:
We have had many overcast and rainy days, so both the lirope and my ferns are going gang-busters.
For several years, I thought of ferns as delicate and difficult to raise. Now, after they've survived tough winters and come back stronger than ever, I'm beginning to wonder if I've coddled another problem child. However, with both the ferns and the lirope, I'm glad to have plants that tolerate both dense shade and occasional drought. They both take a lickin' and keep on tickin'.
On the other hand, they -- along with the invasive ivy -- give my back yard the look of a half-abandoned house where an evil crone lives:
I've started working on my crone-ish cackle: heh, heh, heh.
This is an area that needs some serious work:
It's supposed to be a flag-stone walkway between the plantings and a gravel bed where we can pile our wood for the winter. When my husband was alive, we would buy a quarter cord almost every winter for our living room fireplace. I no longer do that. One or two packs of wood from the supermarket, enough for one evening's fire each, does me just fine.
I want to move what wood I still have down to the end of the bed with the vinca, closer to the house but still far enough away that no termites infest us. Next I should move any straying gravel back next to the fence, and take a look at my pavers: toss or keep. Next spring I want to line up pots on the gravel and fill them all with plants, including moving more of the poor hostas away from the lirope and into the safety of pots. In the process, trimming the ivy should help reduce the haunted house look. FanSee