Archive for May, 2008
Conjure up in your mind your last visit to a garden center. What was it like?
Chances are good that it smelled a little funny—maybe like chemicals. There were piles of seed, soil, rocks on pallets. A variety of plastic pots were piled on industrial-looking shelves. Tools hung on pegboards. Rows and rows of plants were lined up like little green soldiers.
If you believe the surveys that say more than three-quarters of American adults claim to do some gardening, it’s astounding that our shopping resources are so meager and devoid of style.
Finally, those clever marketers that created the distinctive, hip brands Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters have decided to tackle the garden market and inject some style. And not a minute too soon, for my taste.
Earlier this month, they opened Terrain at Styer’s, the first store in a whole new garden center concept. According to John Kinsella, Terrain’s managing director, the goal of Terrain is to be a “destination” rather than the typical drive-by pit stop visit to most garden centers.
Terrain at Styer’s is located in Concordville, PA, 20 minutes south of Philadelphia. It is a massive five-acre complex with 19,000 square feet under roof. In addition to the outdoor nursery, Terrain has books, home décor, lighting, tableware, indoor plants and tropicals. Tired of shopping? Have lunch at the café, where foods are locally sourced. Need some help getting started? Call on their landscaping and design professionals.
Kinsella says that people typically stay at Terrain for three to five hours. Products include items sourced from all over the world that you wouldn’t see at other garden centers.
“If we were to be compared this to another garden center, women would feel this is a more accessible experience than going to a typical garden center or a big box store,” said Kinsella. “There is more attention to presentation. It’s a voyage of discovery with interesting ways of presenting products that will inspire people.”
Unlike Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters, which were built from the ground up, the Terrain stores will partner with existing local garden centers to create the Terrain brand. Kinsella wasn’t disclosing future locations, but he did say that they expect a new Terrain to be open by year’s end.
I put in my bid with Kinsella for Calvert County, Maryland, where I live and garden. He’s a nice man, so he didn’t shoot me down on the idea that I could get my own Terrain. But he did say that they are looking at places where people are doing some serious gardening. Philadelphia, home of the most elaborate flower show in the U.S., made the Pennsylvania location logical.
Kinsella says Terrain’s market is “everyone.” While that sounds nicely democratic, I suspect that the real market for now is the garden stylista with some money to spend.
There will always be people who prefer the utilitarian nature of the big box store garden department. But if Terrain can make gardening hip and stylish, maybe it will ignite a hot new wave of gardening enthusiasm.
I’m all for that. I’m also all for shopping. Road trip anyone?
Robin
After the rains that devastated my New Dawn roses, I had nearly given up hope of finding a solution.
But I bought my husband some brand spankin’ new post hole diggers as a Memorial Day gift–I am nothing if not considerate–and he put them to good use.
He managed to ease the roses out of the offending and broken down trellises. He then dug some impressive holes. I installed lag eye hooks and wire to support the dangerously thorned branches.
They don’t look so bountiful right now because I had to do a wee bit of pruning. Okay, it was a mambo pruning session.
I maybe got carried away in making up for neglecting to give these bountiful roses their proper prunings for a while. These are the remains of a single New Dawn pruning. (Please note by the orange paint on the grass that I called Miss Utility to mark where the power and other wires are located. I’m not ready for a new husband.)
Frankly, nothing short of a natural disaster could kill these roses. In fact, as I was paging through Barbara Damrosch’s newly revised Garden Primer the other day I happened to read her section on climbing roses in which she called the New Dawn “indestructible.” Indeed.
I am so buoyed by my husband’s skills with the post hole diggers I am plotting numerous new projects–trellises, outdoor showers, grapes. Don’t tell him. He’s still recovering from his Memorial Day project.
Robin
There is so little time.
I still have about 25 things to do on my weekend list. So there will be few words and more photos.
Thank God winter has finally gone. Things are blooming here at Bumblebee–Foxglove, Peonies, Johnny-Jump-Ups, Henryi Clematis, Cleosa…
The asparagus that I though I had eradicated from the perennial border insists on making an appearance. I have to laugh seeing asparagus shoots coming up among the flowers.
The herb bed is filled with oregano, parsley, cilantro, sages, cone flower, rosemary, dill and more. I decided to add some containers to the wide paths this year–a good decision, I think, since it gives me the opportunity to add more color.
On a whim while sitting on the garden bench last year I plucked out a couple of the hens and chickens from the strawberry pot and nestled them into the ground beneath the bench. They thrived there and I continued to add to the collection from time to time. I figure by the end of summer they will have made a nice little bed.
What is a garden without little dogs? Sarah and Sophie enjoy the outdoors as much as I do. Maybe more.
They are the best of friends–and sometimes the worst of enemies.
On another note, the editors at Examiner.com have asked me to write a regular column as their Gardening Examiner. Examiner.com is the expanding Internet presence of a free daily newspaper distributed in four cities. As they expand their online presence they are adding “Examiners” in many different topics. I’m the national Examiner on garden topics. So stop in from time to time and say “hey.”
Robin
Have you noticed that there is someone who will take the fun out of just about everything?
Mexican food. Chinese food. Movie popcorn. Now a cool pitcher of sun tea will make you sick.
According to the Centers for Disease Control, Alcaligenes viscolactis, a bacteria commonly found in water, can flourish during the slow steep of sun tea. And it can make you sick.
Who knew something as simple as sun tea could be so dangerous?
I sip tea all day long during the summer. Currently, my favorite concoction is a mixture of green and chai spice teas. And since I’m just a risk-taking, adventurous kind of gal, I have decided that I will continue drinking my sun tea. After all, I’ve made it this far without getting ill. Let’s just see what happens.
For the rest of you, you might want to follow some safety precautions. These include:
-Scrub your sun tea container with hot soapy water. (Frankly, I assume everyone does this anyway.)
-Don’t leave the sun tea to brew for more than three or four hours. (Being the crazy kinda gal that I am, I will continue to brew mine for six to eight hours.)
-Refrigerate and drink as soon as possible. (No problem there.)
-Don’t prepare more than you can drink in a day. Throw out the leftovers. (None left anyway.)
And on one website, they advise you to throw away tea that has turned thick and syrupy or that has ropy strands, which are bacteria. Whaaaaaa? Who would drink that anyway?
So there you have it. Go forth and be safe. As for me, I will continue to live life on the edge with a cold glass of sun tea in my hand.
Robin
I don’t usually make a habit of publicizing my laziness or gardening errors.
But sometimes something so serendipitous happens that I just have to share it. Here is a spontaneous garden container.
I neglected to clean out and put away this pot that was the home for a beautiful hibiscus last year. I had nothing else planted in the pot. At all. And this spring, some pansies have self-seeded. Then, hot dog and holy moly! A small sunflower seems to have sprouted from among the dead hibiscus stems. I was so intrigued by the whole thing, I have just let it go to see what happened.
And now, I rather like it.
What about that? I have an automatic garden! What if everything were this easy?
Robin
I call my lawn tractor Sitwell.
That’s because he sits around pretty well as opposed to riding around and, uh, mowing. He is an expensive piece of equipment.
Sitwell lives to sit around. In fact, just recently, he was one of the factors in the big lawn mowing fiasco that could only be accomplished by two men and a Sitwell mower. He sat out. They mowed with the John Deere push mower. And not well, I should add.
Please note that the grass has been mowed AROUND Sitwell. The mower needs his own mower.
As it turned out, the problem with Sitwell that time was his mower blade was bent, for some unfathomable reason, after a short drive with my 17-year-old son.
But after paying $398 to get the mower repaired and tuned up, I was dismayed, to say the least, when Sitwell decided to do another sitdown. After driving a mere 11 yards, the whole mowing deck landed flat on the ground bringing the mower to a screeching halt. That comes to about $36.18 per yard of mowing or $12.06 per foot of mowing.
I really can’t afford a Sitwell mower.
And because I was faced with another four hours of push mowing and raking because the push mower doesn’t have a mulching attachment, I was a wee bit put out. Okay, I am facing another business trip and tight deadlines, so I was even more than a “wee bit put out” when I called the mower man to come and cart Sitwell off to the hospital again.
Poor mower man. I reckon that this fellow doesn’t often encounter a woman as tall as I am in full dudgeon about her mower. After I gave myself the old “Robin, get a life” chat, I explained the reason for my pique—Sitwell is a slacker and I am tired of push mowing the lawn. This simply isn’t humorous anymore.
See, as you can see, Sitwell has a history of getting into trouble. He has no stamina at all. I need a mower with a bit more staying power—some umph!
Another Sitwell moment from history
Well, it also occurs to me that it’s come to this. I am now writing about my riding lawn mower as if it were interesting.
Signing off now to go get a life.
Robin
I know that “into every life a little rain must fall…”
But four inches in 24 hours seems a tad excessive. It certainly was for my luxurious New Dawn climbing roses.
Two of the three New Dawns were ravaged by the rains and 30 MPH winds. I would sit down and have a good, long cry, but frankly, I’m more cranky and confounded than sad.
I’m cranky because these trellises cost a pretty penny and weren’t really that sturdy to begin with. (Hear that J&P?) Okay, I’m also crabby that I didn’t have a real plan for these roses when I planted them. I was a novice gardener and didn’t know that New Dawn roses are NOT delicate plants, but are really dagger-spiked behemoths, even if they are pink.
And I’m confounded as to how to support these rampaging roses without unlocking the family vault and hauling out wheelbarrows full of money to throw at the problem.
I had planned to install a fence to support them until the fence experts told me a custom fence would cost me nearly as much as a new car. Then I wanted to build a trellis system until I had to acknowledge that I’m not designed for digging two-foot deep holes in hardpan Maryland clay. I could buy some dynamite, I suppose, but I don’t like fireworks either.
So I went for what I hoped was the easy, if not necessarily cheap, solution. After two years and four inches of rain since yesterday, I concede that the easy solution was not a long-term solution.
So here we are–me and my beautiful, devastated beasts. The rain has meant more than a bit of dampness. Now I have a real dilemma.
Robin
I think trees should pull their own weight in the garden, don’t you?
I mean, it’s all well and good to be tall and green, providing all shorts of cooling shade and places for the bugs and birds. But if you can do tricks, like make berries and flowers to brighten things up a bit, you’re a really special tree, yes?
That’s why I like the Winter King Hawthorn. Many people have never heard of these trees. In fact, two seasons out of the year, in particular, the Fed Ex and UPS drivers, the electric company meter reader and whoever else wanders down our long driveway ask me what kind of trees these are. That’s because in those two seasons, the trees are putting on a show to grab your attention.
They are Winter King Hawthorns.
In the spring, the trees are covered in clusters of white flowers. In the fall, red berries hang on for weeks after the leaves have dropped, looking like tiny Christmas ornaments. They hang there until the birds devour them. This year, it was the Evening Grosbeaks that cleaned off the trees–and made my day!
I had never heard of the Winter King Hawthorn before these trees arrived in my life. Six years ago I was a novice gardener and was hard-pressed to tell you if a tree was an oak or maple. But an enterprising and charming nurseryman convinced me that I needed not one, not two, but TWENTY of these trees, since they only grow to about 20’ to 35’ in height. He showed me a very unimpressive specimen in the nursery but dragged out books filled with pictures of flowering and berried trees to convince me to pull out my checkbook.
The first couple of years they after they were planted I wondered if they would even survive in the not very hospitable environment next to the driveway—hard clay soil, competing trees, a hayfield and a not very careful equipment driver of the hay harvesting equipment were all hazards.
Then we had summers with drought. Since the hoses can’t possibly reach that far and I don’t have a water tank on my farm pickup truck, I have shuttled bucket after bucket after bucket of water up and down the driveway to keep them alive. (I did not go to the gym those days, but checked off both cardio AND weightlifting in my daily diary.)
Now, six years later, only two of the trees have gone to the great forest in the sky. Both were victims of Rudy, our tobacco chewing farmer who harvests the hay.
Now that I know the trees will, indeed, survive, I feel more comfortable clipping a few branches to bring indoors. Today’s arrangement includes a small Southern Magnolia branch that was hanging too low and always got caught in my mower.
As beautiful and useful as these trees are—creating flowers and yummy berries for the birds—they can be dangerous. They put the “thorn” in “Hawthorn.” These thorns are nearly 2” long and are as sharp as needles. Flower arranging with these babies is not a feat for the faint of heart.
But oh, what a sight. It’s truly a king of trees.
Oh by the way…I see that the first two choices in the survey (upper right hand corner of this page)–blaming me for shopping in Switzerland or my men for ineptitude in mowing–have been running neck and neck. Frankly, I’m shocked. The survey closes in a couple of days. I have not starved the men, but the little bit of ribbing has done them good. And, by the way, I was also in Switzerland on business, interviewing humanitarian aid workers from the World Health Organization. So there. It was for a good cause. If you want to change your vote (or vote again), you can. Don’t make me the villain here!
Robin
Some days it’s just tougher than others to transition from the garden back to work. Like today.
Today is a very bad transition day.
The Whining Part…
I had a great gardening weekend, but there are still about 20 things on my “to do” list that did not get accomplished. As a result, I had a fitful night’s sleep. Okay, maybe the raging case of poison ivy on my forearm that vaguely resembles what I imagine leprosy looks like also had something to do with not being able to sleep. But the point is that I didn’t sleep well, so I’m really in no shape to go to work. But my very mean and witchy boss (oh, that would be me!) made me show up anyway.
Then I had a mountain of data to organize and the data file wasn’t cooperating. I hate it when that happens. You know those people who are hooked on Sudoku? Well, if they had to deal with my data file issues, they wouldn’t be fiddling with flippin’ numbers in their free time. They’d be as far away from a computer and numbers as possible–like the far, far side of the garden.
And resting my diseased arm on the desk to mouse around that possessed data file is killing me.
But enough about my whiny little self. (Okay, not really.)
The Flower Show Part…
Last time I told you about how I overcame my flower fears. Several people confessed to similar flower issues and coping strategies. Linda grows orchids inside so she doesn’t have to cut her outdoor flowers. Elizabeth pots up tulips so she doesn’t have to cut the ones outside. Brenda goes flowerless and uses the old cat-will-eat-my-flowers-in-the-house excuse. Well, I thought I would show a little of what you’re missing if you don’t clip and bring in some of the floral bounty.
One of the kitchen arrangements right now is a profusion of tiny yellow roses from one of the two Monster Roses. No, that’s not really the name of the rose. I can’t even remember the name of this rose, but Monster Rose seems to suit.
I only love the Monster Roses in May, when they blooms like mad. They don’t have any scent at all, but the vision of all those yellow roses is a Technicolor dream. But since I have to hack at them eleven months out of the year with hedge clippers (and not gently), I didn’t feel guilty at all clipping off long branches to bring into the house.
As you can see, this Monster Rose bush hardly noticed the flowers were gone.
Although the tulips have now all faded, I managed to salvage a few last white ones to tuck into a small table arrangement with some bamboo sprouts.
Once the tulips and roses are dropping their petals, I’ll be bringing in some long branches from the Winter King Hawthorns that line our driveway. They are now in a profusion of white flowers.
There now, just thinking about the flowers has made me feel better. See what cutting flowers can do for you? Just like that it made my bad night’s sleep, disease-ravaged forearm and data nightmares disappeared. So get clipping!
Robin
I used to be afraid to cut the flowers in my garden to bring indoors. It was a classic case of flower fear.
Other people, I have heard, experience the same phenomenon. It is the fear that if you cut the flowers in your garden, it will take away from the outdoor beauty. Who wants a bald, flower-free garden, right?
For me, the flower fear ran so deep that I would buy flowers every week, even in the summer, to use in the kitchen, family room, bedroom and bathrooms rather than cut the ones right outside my back door.
But I want my own fabulous flowers in the house, darn it. And I also want my garden filled with an abundance of flowers. In short, I WANT IT ALL!
Why can’t I have it all? Martha Stewart has it all. Oprah has it all. Heck, Angelina Jolie has it all. Angelina even has Brad Pitt! Heck, if she can have Brad Pitt, why can’t I at least have indoor/outdoor flowers? Is that asking too much?
Last fall year I decided it face my flower fears.
I added my own little cutting beds so that I could give myself permission to invite some of them indoors. I stocked up on tulip bulbs. Red tulips, purple tulips, white tulips, pink tulips. Tulips, tulips, tulips. I think I must have been a bit single-minded the day I was stocking up on bulbs, because I came away with about six dozen tulip bulbs and very little of anything else.
If my selections lacked in imagination I can’t say that the execution was especially stellar either. I managed to get about half of the tulip bulbs planted in October before freezing rain and demanding clients drove me indoors. The unplanted tulip bulbs languished in a bucket in the garage. Every time I walked past the bucket to my car the little florist in my head would say, “You’re horrid! You’re killing the flowers. You’ll never have flowers in your house. You don’t deserve flowers in your house!”
The little florist in my head is mean. And sometimes she says bad words.
Finally, one warmish day in February I headed outside with the offending bucket of bulbs and dug them all in. I had no expectation that they would grow. After all, fall is the time to plant tulip bulbs, not February. But at least it shut that miserable little florist voice down for a while.
Amazing, but true, all of the tulip bulbs, including the February planted bulbs, grew and bloomed. And I’ve been cutting and cutting to keep the house tulip-filled for about a month now. I have another bunch of summer blooming flowers all planted and will be inviting them indoors as well.
I still don’t have Brad Pitt. And that miserable little florist in my head still nags at me about my arrangements. But I believe you can say I have recovered from my flower fears.
Robin
