07/22/2007

The View from Sunnybank

Singing after the rain

By Dee Blair
Local columnist
dblair@
voyager.net

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

What a world. So cool, calm and — best of all — wet.

Rain has certainly been scarce; intense watering of especially vulnerable plants has barely dented my sandy, though amended, soil. Moisture quickly evaporates in the baking heat, leaving me frustrated. Though constantly attentive, I've just managed to cope. Sometimes, though, nothing's enough. My long-suffering hydrangea macrophylla is a case-in-point.

Years ago I'd installed it on Sunnybank's west side, right outside the last secret garden gate, in the high shade of the giant basswood tree next door. Content, it grew confidently into a fine specimen. Bugs and disease zip past, but it and its brethren have a secret haunt: all hydrangeas that bloom on old wood are susceptible to surprise frosts in late spring; the vulnerable buds are doomed. Mine barely escaped ruin from this year's June death-breath.

(I'd enveloped it in a light blanket the evening before, having heeded a Weather Channel warning. If I'm not quick enough, though, I'm left with a lush, green, barren bush that always wilts in heat above 85 degrees, requiring me to stand by it with hose in hand, offering what support I can. It does respond, without the added burden of those huge flowers, but both of us miss what might have been.)

Newer cultivars shrug off Jack Frost's icy touch with a condescending laugh. "Endless Summer,” a popular choice, ignores his stealthy midnight advances, always producing wonderful blossoms, though the bush is much smaller. These new-wood bloomers, in my opinion, lack the 'presence' — the solid, confident stateliness — of my big-leaf hydrangea.

Anyway, the plant cringed daily, even in part-shade. A mister released a soft water veil to counter the worst of each afternoon's (often) 90-degree heat; the soil beneath was also watered deeply, but this year's still-desperate flowers groaned, drooping pathetically.

As miserable as the bush, I despaired. The only thing that would really work was rain, loaded with the secret ingredients that always make the earth look freshly scrubbed. A decent drenching, with a dash of lightning, would offer resurrection to parched grass, trees — anything alive.

Then, in the nick of time, the wretched plant and I were rescued. In a single, soaked hour, each multi-colored flower reached joyfully for the sky, miraculously revived.

What an incredible sight. Truly. I'd tweaked it last fall, and again in early spring, adding sulfur, a touch of greensand, some rich black compost and a quick hit of aluminum sulfate and iron: WOW!

Picture, if you will, a fat bush, five feet tall and nicely rounded, glowing with 20 different combinations of luscious pastel colors. There are fantastic blends of pink, pale green, soft blue, yellow, lavender, cream — NEVER in 15 years has it looked so wonderful. Each fat, multi-colored flowerball perches perkily atop fluid-filled stems, singing in the rain, delighted with the lightning-slashed sky, reminding me that the plant was discovered living happily under a misty waterfall; its first five letters shout what it craves.

The season's show can be too much to absorb. Yesterday, two notebook-laden ladies leaving the garden became almost cross; they stomped over to it, declaring it a clever fake. Pomposity changed to awe as they touched the achingly lovely blossoms.

These recent, cool mornings I sweater up and rush out to the front porch to drink in my own personal pastel rainbow.

When I decry dry, hot seasons, I'm advised to yank it and substitute new-wood bloomers. Nope. Won't do it. Displays like this remind me that, with patience, support, good food and a perfectly timed, drenching rain, in lucky years I will be rewarded, MAGNIFICENTLY.

Dee Blair's private Traverse City secret garden at Sunnybank (325 Sixth Street) 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 blogs.record-eagle.com.