06/10/2007

The View from Sunnybank

Snip-snap: Garden urchins glow

By Dee Blair
Local columnist
dblair@
voyager.net

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

It's June.

A few plants need their annual "haircut,” so with scissors I shorten the lowly Vinca's long, straight tendrils, which rise above the mother plant to look around, or gently probe the earth in every direction.

Hardly anyone bothers to trim Vinca (myrtle), but "barbering” keeps it contained, and significantly improves its appearance. I use my fingers to rake the plant in an upward motion, exposing leggy lines: a few judicious snips and the blanket-the-earth plant sighs with relief. Now it can concentrate on plumping up.

For good measure, I sprinkle a half-bucket of rich black compost, by hand, over the little bed, revitalizing its roots. (A thin drip line runs through it, too, constantly moistening.) A quick ruffle of foliage with a broom's business end to shake in the nourishment, and I'm finished.

Everyone needs a decent meal and water to do their best. Vinca responds to this minimal care by glowing a healthy green and proffering lovely blue blossoms (salted with miniature, late-blooming spring daffodils), here in the part-shade just inside the garden's entrance.

With scissors poised I cast around for the next customer. Aha! Giant ornamental onions (Allium) bloom vigorously, but their huge basal leaves are gradually turning a parchment color from the tips down. If these are completely removed too soon the big bulbs, deprived of nourishment, won't return. If I wait, the foliage ages unattractively, bringing down the neighborhood.

So I compromise, snipping off just the exhausted parts; lush plant foliage nearby hides most of the rest. Eventually, only shocking pink, white, blue or lavender globes remain, aging gracefully. Perched atop sturdy four-foot stems, they'll fade to parchment, but still look structurally stunning for weeks after the big show.

Cheerful feverfew/marguerite daisies need their tall, flower-packed stems pruned down to new buds once or twice each season; otherwise they'll set seed, and look "back-alley” scruffy. I don't mind the maintenance, up to a point. These garden urchins can get carried away with spreading the joy; I have to pull up lots of fat babies.

Resistance is minimal, as they're not deep rooters. Happily, mine never get sick, and always power-dress, their fresh, sun-bright faces teasing smiles from passing admirers. I love their peculiar, pungent sniff, though some people find it unpleasant.

Most of the forget-me-nots (Myosotis) look forgotten; they lose color, mildew and sag about now. I pull these, then shake out their seeds before tossing spent "nots” into a bucket. Next year I'll be rewarded again with a sea of baby-blue glory.

The Lamb's ears (Stachys) are enthusiastic, but those leggy purple flowers want culling. It's the velvet-soft, silver-green foliage I encourage. I'll probably spare one perky stalk, but lots of gardeners allow them all. (Ironically, there's never enough full sun at Sunnybank; these plants would go thin and scraggly if allowed to flower profusely.) Old brown leaf "poop” constantly accumulates behind green ears; regular maintenance keeps them fresh and vigorous.

A groan of pleasure and exasperation escapes me; Johnny-jump-up violets are everywhere! Last year I'd seriously thinned them, or so I'd thought, but here they are again, irrepressibly vigorous. I love how these blue-eyed tots spring up between brick-cracks, but keeping them tidy (by deadheading) is annoyingly tedious.

So I compromise, cleaning just a few and ruthlessly yanking the rest. I do this with eyes averted, as it goes against the grain to jerk out Johnny. Never mind; he'll jump up again, innocently charming, keen to romp freely through the garden.

This urchin, like the others, knows that beauty is found in small delights.

Sunnybank Garden, 325 Sixth St., welcomes visitors most days from around 9 a.m. until evening, though groups planning a special trip should call ahead (929-4351) to verify that the garden is open. The sign out front announces open times, which may vary.