Redbud season!

Redbuds are one of my all-time favorites. They are forever linked to the first house I owned, the birth of my children (both May babies), and of course to spring. This is a spectacular year for them.

Fat bees were buzzing among the blossoms. I tried to get a pic of one, but it looks like all I captured was the blur of its wing.

After waiting for eons for spring to get here, now I can't keep up with the shrubs and trees. Each day something new is blossoming, including the North Star cherry. Out of four trees, one is blooming, one is dead, and the other two are biding their time.

Earlier today I noticed the purple-leaf sand cherry starting to bloom. By this evening, it was going full blast. Since I am going to be busy tomorrow, I didn't want to miss its glory.

It starts to leaf out while blooming, so the the delicate pink flowers are accented by the deep purple leaves. Yum!

The hosta bed has survived trampling by Clio the Big Foot, as has my old-fashioned bleeding heart. Some of the coral bells are questionable. Damn dog.

Pink seems to be the theme of this post!

And more pink! The prairie smoke is blooming (but not smoking yet). While visiting my local native plant nursery today, I asked if they had more. Not this year. Apparently, they are difficult to start.

Besides the flowering plants, other denizens of the yard are showing signs of life. The Prairie Fire crabapple that looked like a three-foot long stick when I planted it is sprouting leaves. Yes!

The 'Limelight' hydrangea is beginning to leaf out, but the true purpose of this pic is to demonstrate that sometimes things go according to plan. I'm talking about all that gout weed underneath the hydrangea. The plan called for it to fill in that area but NOT spread to other areas. We'll see how well that second part works out. BTW, the green plants among the gout weed that are not weeds are volunteer columbine. Not according to plan but I'll take it.

I've been actively discouraging the three forsythia bushes in my yard. Last spring's whack job was enough to prevent blooming this year, but I'm discovering I kind of like this dwarf version. Too bad it won't stay small.

For the record, I purchased a flat of alyssum today, 'Snow Crystals'. Some has already found its way into the big pots. I also transplanted the butterfly bush to where the azalea was. And I spot treated dandelions in the front yard. The trellises I purchased last year for the clematis are securely in place, just in the nick of time. I expect the following weeks to be split between planting seedlings and weeding. And eating asparagus!

First customer of the year

I took a little drive to Spencerville a couple of weeks ago, to pick up some shrubs from Riverview Native Nursery. With the erratic weather, part of me wanted to GET GOING, while the saner part of my brain reminded me it was not even April yet. But by purchasing these shrubs early, I got the pick of the crop (so to speak).

It's impossible to tell from the photo that I have a smooth hydrangea, a chokeberry, and a spicebush.

Last summer I whacked away at the forsythia, cutting two to the ground, leaving one for early spring yellow. I assumed the scanty blossoming was due to the severe pruning, but as I drive around town, no one's forsythia looks good this year. I blame the weather.

Daffodils rarely fail, although they may flop a bit. The blooming rate is random, too, instead of the usual steady march through the varieties.

Gardening rarely lacks surprises, but I feel like I can't count on anything anymore.

Whack, whack, whack

Spring would not be the same without the bright yellows of daffodils and forsythia. BUT. Forsythia can really get out of control if left to its own devices. An unruly forsythia shrub is especially problematic if the gardener plants them too close to the gates to the backyard (ahem). So in an effort to contain and hopefully transform the offending bushes, I told my SO to whack away at them. And whack he did.

I also invited him to reduce the burning bush to a miniature size, to give the gold mop and barberry a chance to fill out. If the filling out does not happen, we can let the burning bush return to its so-called dwarf size.

And let's not leave out the boxwood.

Now I can see out my living room window.

Once the privet at the back of the lot drops its blossoms, it's turn will come. Whack, whack, whack.

Screwed up already

I like to plan. When I decided to try square foot gardening, I planned and planned and planned. I planned a big garden, then reduced the size. I planned to plant everything because with square foot gardening, there would be room, then decided to take it slower. Once I decided on what to grow and how much, I planned how the crops would be rotated. I had it all planned out.

Yesterday the time was right for planting peas. I calculated how many pea seeds I would need and counted out how many I had. First glitch: The number of pea seeds for the snow peas was not enough for the four squares I had planned. No problem, though - peas are peas (for planting purposes, at least). So I changed plans and decided on two squares of snow peas, four squares of English peas, and six squares of snap peas. I would use the same number of squares I originally planned for peas, but in slightly different amounts of each type.

Peas are not peas for growing purposes, though. The variety of English peas I chose will grow only two feet tall and should not need staking. The snow peas, however, will grow five feet tall and the snap peas four feet tall. So the squares for snow peas and snap peas should abut each other to make the most efficient use of the supports.

Finally, planning revised, I approached the first bed and brushed away the leaves and measured out the four squares for the English peas. I carefully poked holes every two inches, in rows two inches apart.

I dropped the seeds into the holes and poked them to a depth of one inch.

I covered the squares with homemade compost.

And then, just as I was tamping down the soil with my hands, I realized I had planted the wrong bed.

Because of the shed, of the beds we had built and filled, I had reserved the one that would get the most sun for tomatoes. And that was the bed I had just planted the English peas in. Well, too bad. I mentally shifted the beds, keeping the ones for peas next to each other and the tomato bed at the other end of the row. In spite of all my planning, I can be flexible.

The supports will be from previously utilized PVC pipe and either chicken wire or plastic coated hardware cloth, both of which are in plentiful supply in the shed. Now if it would only rain.

Meanwhile, the daffodils and the forsythia have popped.

All the daffodils decided to bloom at one time instead of their usual staggered sequence. Ditto the forsythia - my bushes usually bloom later than the neighbor's, but not this year.

Weird, weird weather.

Wishing for Rain

This morning it looked and felt like it could rain any minute, but nothing happened. Without a good soaking, the weeds are almost impossible to get out of the ground, even with a shovel. So I worked above ground, pruning the forsythia and climbing rose so the worker guys can get in and out of the yard.



I took off more than I left. Hopefully, the plants will be okay.

The Virginia creeper also came down, as did all the volunteer mulberry trees around the yard. I retreated to the house for the afternoon - too humid - but when it did not rain, I spent some time watering this evening.

Son of a Bun

I am guessing that the reason the backyard bunnies seem so tame is they are actually trying to lure me away from their little treasures. Betsy the beagle found this little fellow trying to play hide 'n' seek.



If I can't see you, you can't see me.

I lured the dog away and left the bunny alone, hoping it would find it's way back to a nest or it's mom, but later it was still there. I tried prying it out of the corner with a stick, hoping it would hop away, but it just sat there. I'm not sure it was mature enough to be out of the nest, as it still had the baby bunny instinct to be as still as possible in the hopes of escaping detection, instead of the run-for-your-life instinct. So I put on leather gloves and picked it up and carried it around the corner of the house where the dog could not get it and hid it behind the iris. Hopefully Mom will find it before a cat does.

When not rescuing baby bunnies, I am taking photos.



I planted this sandcherry last summer and am pleased to note the rabbits left it alone over the winter and it appears rather happy to be in my yard. The neighbor across the street had a couple of these at the corners of their front yard, and I looked forward to admiring the pink flowers against the dark foliage every spring, but for some reason he tore them out. So I planted my own.

(This same neighbor shared their plan to also remove a whole row of conifers, which made me gasp out loud. I suggested they not because 1) the trees act as a privacy fence between them and the neighbor to the south, and 2) trees increase a property's value. The problem was he did not want to mow around them - maybe that is why he got rid of the sand cherries - so he compromised by trimming up the lower branches.)

Grape hyacinth really smell like grapes!



The rhododendron in all it's glory.



Three (?) years ago, I planted three arborvitae to provide backyard privacy. Despite the rabbits efforts, they are doing fine, growing from their initial 4 feet to over 6 feet.



The daffodils are from Breck's, their "naturalizing" collection.





When I planted the bulbs, I also planted an English bluebell bulb in each hole. The bluebell foliage comes up every year, but I haven't seen many flowers. Maybe this year will be different.

Who Are You Callin Yaller?

Yes, the grass is green, but it's these sunny beings that catch the eye these days.

Crocus (soon to be bunny fodder):



Last spring these poor fellows were face-down...



... and the forsythia did not fare much better. But this year it is spectacular.



But green and yellow are not the only colors available so far. I think this is radicchio, left over from last year's planting of mesclun:



And I am hoping these rhododendruns hold back a bit so they don't get bitten by frost:



The lamb may not lay down with the lamb, but apparently beagles and bunnies can co-exist:



If I were more adept with the photo editing, I would add an arrow to show you where the rabbit is, but if you look straight up from Betsy, you should see a pair of rabbit ears against a background of dried leaves.