08/12/2007

The View From Sunnybank

A two-faced lassie to love

By Dee Blair
Local columnist
dblair@
voyager.net

Read Dee's past columns here
Read Dee's Good Dirt blog

Many plants I grow have intriguing, often ridiculous, pet names I simply can't resist.

Take, for example, "love-in-a-mist.” A bird introduced this delicate, sun-loving flower to me years ago; ker-bonk! I fell head-over-teakettle in love. Just gazing at her undoes me.

She's delectable, dressed in a blur of spiny, but touchable, green "leaves” no wider than a penciled dash. When massed, they look exactly like, well, love, in a mist. Then, to top it off, a glorious china-blue or white daisy-like shaggy flower emerges triumphantly atop the fluff, the essence of charm. I melt.

But wait! The fun's not over. After blooming, outrageous green and burgundy-striped horned and round seedpods, often an inch across, perch atop the stems. Long, lethal-looking spikes scream, "Don't touch!” Pooh. It's a sham. They're just as tame and absurdly charming as the flower stage was. Delightfully, this phase is called "devil-in-a-bush.” Oh Lord! How could I NOT sigh, and succumb?

There's more. This hardy annual (which ignores frosts) cheerfully reseeds. Just to be sure, though, I pounced on a seed packet of Nigella damascena, the enchantress's proper name, at a garden center 10 springs ago. After a nice, soaking rain I dribbled the little black dots around the sunniest parts of the garden in early April. Sure enough, in due course (about six weeks), up popped fuzzy stems in clumpy, misty little clusters — and finally, the flowers (which, infrequently, can also be a gorgeous, soft pink). Gardening books recommend thinning; I don't bother.

Oh — too much water rots young plants; too little withers the foliage. Occasionally, a little snort of fast food, like Miracle-Gro, is appreciated; she lives cheap.

"Miss Jekyll,” a double form, is my favorite; look for that name on the seed packet. (This prim, visually impaired little Victorian lady designed gently flowing gardens, full of lovely colors, textures and varying bloom times, revolutionizing the way people perceived their own plots.)

Nigella has an uncanny knack for knowing where she looks good. She loves my Japanese blood grass, introduces sedum, snuggles coyly among the roses, cheerfully enhances my woolly thyme and looks smashing against purple basil's rich essence. But here's the thing: this lovely, wispy, whimsical beauty chooses; I don't. She moves exactly where she pleases, when she pleases. I accept her choices, even if some are unconventional.

Nigella doesn't care a fig for color wheels, preferring instead to expand my horizons by introducing me to novel color marriages I never would have imagined. I can't remember when we've ever disagreed. But Madame absolutely refuses to be transplanted; she sinks a long taproot. If you have your knickers in a twist about her decisions, simply tug her gone.

When those amazing seedpods dry to pale parchment, and actually crunch, they're "done.” Biggish breezes will eventually snuffle through your beds; the dotty black seeds will gleefully escape their pods and catch a ride to somewhere nearby, brightening up that place.

Feel like sharing a good thing? Pluck a parchment pod or three and pop them into a Ziploc bag. Make someone you love happy. Tell them to scatter some seeds over damp earth to, er, suggest. Madame will think about it, and agree, or select a spot that she likes better.

Her surprising choices make each season an adventure.

This gem keeps on coming, has a quirky sense of humor, is never sick, never bug-whacked, loves to sunbathe and is always good for a giggle. Flexible, she doesn't mind if her soil is so-so. Best of all, once I'm accepted, she'll never dump me.

This, fellow gardeners, is true love.

Dee Blair's private Traverse City secret garden at Sunnybank (325 Sixth St.) is often open to visitors daily from around 9 a.m. to around early evening, with extended hours possible by appointment. It's best to check the sign to be sure, or if planning a group visit, call ahead (231)-929-4351 to avoid disappointment. She can be reached care of the Record Eagle, or via e-mail at dblair@voyager.net. Also, see her blog, which often elaborates on columns, at http://blogs.record-eagle.com.