Author: lwcmartin@bellsouth.net

Every morning, a cup of coffee in hand, I wander out to the front garden to see what wonders the night has brought and I am never disappointed. This morning as I approached, a host of goldfinch created a blaze of bright yellow as they flew from the purple coneflower seeds they had been feeding on.

Goldfinch are hardly rare, particularly at this time of year but this does not diminish my enthusiasm in the least. They are simply beautiful creatures with their bright yellow bellies and backs and bold black wings and head patches. Only the males exhibit this coloration and only during breeding season, which lasts from mid-July through September.

The late breeding season corresponds with the appearance of seeds from their favorite plants. Milkweeds, thistles, sunflowers, zinnias, black-eyed Susans, coreopsis and purple coneflowers all provide an abundant source of food for goldfinch. In spite of its seemingly voracious appetite, though, a goldfinch only weighs about a half ounce.

The brightest plumage is shown by the healthiest males who are best able to absorb carotenoid pigments from the seeds they eat. According to Dr. Kevin McGraw, an ornithologist at Arizona State University, females are attracted to the brightest birds because they have proven to be the healthiest and best providers.

After breeding, when they no longer have to dazzle and impress with gorgeous plumage, the males molt and the new feathers are a much more subtle dull yellow and buff color.

Goldfinch are monogamous and generally have one to two broods each year. While the female builds the nest (which measures about 3 inches across) and tends to the second brood, the males take over feeding the first brood.

It’s easy to attract goldfinch to the garden. In summer, plant their favorite seed food and in winter, fill bird feeders with thistle or sunflower seeds. Then sit back and enjoy the show.

I have a bumper crop of basil this year. I started it from seed in late spring and a dozen little basil plants sprouted and grew. I gave some away and stuck the rest in all kinds of nooks and crannies in the yard.

It’s been a good summer for basil with hot temperatures and lots of rain so my basil plants are booming and I have plenty of leaves to make pesto. The kitchen smells incredibly green and wonderful as I pick and cut the pungent leaves.

Basil originally hails from India, Africa and Asia and has been prized for both its culinary and its medicinal value for many centuries. In India, holy basil is considered a sacred herb and is dedicated to the gods Vishnu and Krishna. The French call it herbe royale and, according to tradition, if a man gives a woman a sprig of basil, it’s a symbol of his undying love.

But before you start stripping leaves off the nearest basil bush to give to your beloved, consider this: A 17th century botanist wrote about a gentleman of Siena who used powdered basil as snuff. “In a short Time, he turn’d mad and died; and his Head being opened by Surgeons, there was found a Nest of Scorpions in his Brain.”

Unless you think that basil will cause scorpions to nest in your brain, try the fresh leaves as flavoring for sauces and for making pesto. I’ve included my favorite recipe below. Basil is a really easy plant to grow from seed and provides beautiful rich, green leaves all summer. It doesn’t like cold weather, though, so at the first hint of frost, it will be done for the season.

Perhaps I should have done a bit more basil research before planting it in every nook and cranny of my garden. According to an Italian custom, placing a pot of basil on your balcony is a sign that a woman is ready to receive suitors. No wonder Jack kept moving those pots to the back yard!

The following is a mild but beautifully flavored pesto. We use it on fish and pasta but our favorite is pizza with pesto, goat cheese and fresh figs. Yum!!!!

Pesto:

Ingredients:

• ½ cup pine nuts
• 3 oz. Parmesan, grated (about ¾ cup)
• 2 garlic cloves, finely grated (about 1 teaspoon)
• 3 cups basil leaves, packed
• ¾ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• salt to taste

Toast pine nuts at 350 degree for 5 – 7 minutes until slightly brown. Place in food processor to cool. Add garlic and cheese and blend for about 1 minute until it forms a paste. Add the basil and turn the processor on again, slowing pouring in all the oil. Blend for 1 minute. Add salt to taste.

Enjoy

Okra is one of those things that people love – or not. Granted, with it’s somewhat mucilaginous (okay, some same slimy) texture, it can taste a little odd. BUT coated in cornmeal and fried, or dropped into tiny pancakes like a fritter or in a big pot of gumbo, okra can be absolutely delicious. And, people have thought so for a long time.

Okra originally came from Africa, probably around Ethiopia where it has been cultivated since 2000 BC. It most likely came to Brazil and the Caribbean on ships during the 17th century and then later made its way to Charleston where it was put into soups and stews with other vegetables and a little meat. This was eventually called “gumbo.” The Bantu word for okra is ochingombo and even today okra is known in French speaking countries as gombo. In India it’s known as “Lady Fingers.” It was also used, both in its country of origin and elsewhere, as a thickening agent.

Even if you don’t want to eat it, okra is a lovely plant to grow in the garden, especially the new cultivar ‘Red Burgundy’ which has wine red stems and pods. The pale yellow blossom looks very much like the flowers of hibiscus or cotton, both of whom are closely related.

This is one plant that loves hot weather. Ask okra “is it hot enough for you?” and the likely answer will be NO! Like a kid who won’t jump into the lake until the water warms, okra refuses to grow until it is HOT. I planted mine in late April and it remained about 4 inches tall for months, in spite of fertilizer, extra water, wheedling and threats from me. But once summer arrived, it shot up and filled out and I will pick the first pods in a few days and fry it up for my family, all of whom are southern and most of whom love okra. You don’t have to be southern, of course, to love okra. But it helps.

Happy gardening.

Laura

I was born to a family of travelers and adventurers. My mother was a passionate traveler. She didn’t really care where we went, just as long as we went somewhere.

My father was a little more particular about the “where.” He loved wilderness and adventure and when I was seven, he announced to the assembled family that he’d like to wash his feet in the Yukon River. We spent the summer of 1959 driving to Fairbanks, Alaska and back to participate in the Fourth of July parade when Alaska became the 49th state.

When Jack and I met, part of the attraction was a shared passion for travel. Jack, too, loves wilderness and adventure and has trekked in Nepal, climbed frozen waterfalls in Colorado and camped out on glaciers in Alaska. We planned for years and years of travel together all over the world. Of course, that was before 2020 and Covid.

Along with everyone else, our wings have been clipped and we’re home bound for the foreseeable future. So, I decided to explore my backyard and look at it as if it were a foreign country. I looked beyond the beauty to find the unusual, the bizarre and the interesting, just as I do when traveling. After all, if William Blake can find “A world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower, ” surely I can find a whole new country in my backyard. The following is a photo album of my trip to my back yard. Bon voyage!

I love native plants. I am actually quite passionate about our natives. But in mid-summer, when my stargazer lilies are in peak performance, I am very grateful for these cultivated beauties from Asia.

There is nothing shy or subtle about these lilies. Once they begin to bloom, usually around the middle of June in Atlanta, they simply take center stage. After growing for the past 15 years, the bulbs must be the size of melons, as they continue to bloom exuberantly.

I know that these Asiatic hybrid lilies are supposed to have at least 8 hours of sun, which would then produce stout stems that would top out at 4 feet. But, I planted them in the back where it’s a little shady and they stretch for the sun. Some of them are almost 6 feet tall now. But, being so tall and spindly, they need staking, particularly when they are laden with blossoms as they are now.

Lilies are native to the Tigris Euphrates Valley where they have been cultivated for over 5000 years.

Lilies were considered the symbol of Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty and, according to the Victorian language of flowers, the lily is a symbol of majesty.

In my own garden, the lilies are a symbol of joy unleashed, of an exuberance for life that can’t be contained. When I go out at night to gaze at the stars, their scent fills the evening air, reminding me that that the garden, truly is a miracle.

In the eleventh century a great plague swept through Europe killing thousands of people. There were few medicines available and little knowledge about what caused such a sickness.

Legend tells us that King Ladislaus I of Hungary (1040- 1095) was not only a beloved king but also a great healer but not even he could determine how to stop the plague. In desperation, he shot an arrow into the air and prayed to God that it would land on a plant that would stop the plague. The arrow landed on a gentian plant and because of this, gentian was used for centuries to treat symptoms of illness.

Not only gentian, but a host of other flowers were used to treat the plague. In 1373 Columbine was used with seven other herbs as a cure for the “pestilence”.

And Angelica, a tall, imposing plant native to Northern Europe was called ‘herb Angelica‘ or Angel’s herb because it was believed to protect one against contagion – and ward off evil spirits and bestow a long life!

Before you dismiss all this as superstition and pure legend, consider this. According to a PBS NOVA episode, a full 40 percent of all prescribed medicines today come from plant extracts or synthesized plant compounds, including aspirin (from the Willow tree) and quinine (from the Cinchona tree.) Plants and flowers have not only brought us incomparable joy because of their beauty, they have also provided us with the basis of a countless number of vital medicines.

In the world today, with a scramble on to find prevention and a cure for our current “plague”, we might do well to look at some of the ancient “cures.” For example, in England during a 17th century plague, it was advised that everyone eat a big dose of garlic daily. If we did that and we all had garlic breath, perhaps that 6 foot social distancing would be a little easier to maintain!

But in the meantime, anyone have an arrow? I’m ready for a cure!

Laura

I’m not going to beat around the bush, I’m getting right to the root of the matter. If you don’t like puns, just act like a tree and leaf it alone. Turn off your computer and check back next week when this blooming idiot may have come back to her senses. But celebrating Father’s Day yesterday made me think of my dad. He was a very punny guy. So this is in memory of Ken Coogle – and apologies to the rest of you.

In this age of the virus I am so gladiolus for my garden. From morning glory to four o’clocks, I’m outside with my flowers. It helps make me less impatiens and reminds me not to be such a snapdragon. I just try to “Bee balm and carry on.”

This whole season has been such a caladium.

When my best bud, Black Eyed Susan came to see the garden, I aster what she was doing to stay sane. “Well, I’m quarantined with Sweet William and we’re doing more gardening,” was her sage advice. “It’s good medicine, almost like an ivy of happiness every dais-y.” I’d say she really rose to the occasion!

I’m not sure you would spend all day in my garden with me, but my dogwood. Actually, I have lots of company. Phlox of birds and insects enjoy it as well, though scorpion weed, spiderwort, and tickseed are not nearly as welcomed as turtle flower, cat-nip, monkey flower, and tiger lily.

Even so, when things get back to “normal” I’ll be so happy I maypop.

By this time you’re probably pine-ing away to be anywhere except here. Well, lucky you! Ring the bellflowers! I’m signing off, once and flor-al,

Hosta luego.

In stark contrast to the challenging times in which we’re living, the flowers this season have been absolutely beautiful. Or maybe the just appear so because of the times. In any case, picking flowers to bring indoors or to share with family and friends has been one of my favorite things to do during the past couple of months.

I’d like to offer you this virtual bouquet, with the hopes that one day soon, I can hand it to you in person.

Laura

Every morning I run outside to see what wonders my garden has produced and every day I am thrilled to see a whole new batch of beautiful day lily blooms. Day lilies are the quintessential “carpe diem” plants as each blossom lasts only a single day. But maybe because of this, each blossom seizes the day with intense colors and stunning blossoms.

Day lilies are ancient plants that have been cultivated for 4000 years in China. The original tawny or orange day lilies (Hemerocallis fulva) were grown not for their beauty but as food and medicine. Day lily buds were (and still are!) considered delicious, either fresh stuffed with cheese or shrimp salad or dried and used in soups.

In China it was called hsuan t’sap, or “the plant of forgetfulness”. It was said to cure sorrow by making one forget troubles. Day lily images were often embroidered on pillows, invoking the peace of forgetfulness. If worn during pregnancy, dried day lily buds were thought to cause the birth of a son.

Day lilies are actually botanically closer to asparagus and agave than to true lilies, which are poisonous. Tawny, or orange, dallies are native primarily in Asia, but not in North America. Today, these orange lilies have escaped cultivation and are naturalized along roadsides and in ditches throughout the country.

These flowers were first introduced to Europe from the Ottoman Empire in the late 16th century but it wasn’t until the mid 19th century, when China opened up to the West that many of the beautiful hybrids were seen. Today there are hundreds of named cultivars, though the common orange is still considered the best one to eat.

Day lilies like a lot of sun and well drained, rich soils. For years I had these plants in a partially shaded area and they produced only a few blossoms each year. It wasn’t until I moved them into a place with abundant sunshine that they bloomed prolifically. Apparently, to seize the day, you have to seize the daylight first. Carpe Diem!

Happy gardening.

Laura

One of my favorite flower stories is the romance and drama of the ‘Peace’ rose. It was 1935 and Francil Meilland, a third generation French rose breeder noticed a seedling that looked particularly promising. For four years, he worked to improve the cultivar, to make it more beautiful and hardier.

But just as he was getting ready to introduce it to the gardening world, it became apparent that France was on the brink of war. With the possibility of harm or devastation to the nursery, he sent cuttings of the cultivar to friends in Italy, Turkey and Germany. At the last minute (legend says on the very last plane out of France to America) he was able to send some to the United States.

All during World War II, Meilland had no contact with these friends. But the rose had created a sensation wherever it was grown. Breeders in the U.S. were so enthusiastic about it that the American Rose Society launched it on April 29, 1945 and renamed it with this statement: “We are persuaded that this greatest new rose of our time should be named for the world’s greatest desire: ‘Peace.’

In nine years, 30 million ‘Peace’ roses were sold all over the world. In his diary, Francis Meilland wrote “How strange to think that all these millions of rose bushes sprang from one tiny seed no bigger than the head of a pin, a seed which we might so easily have overlooked, or neglected in a moment of inattention.

Although I’m not much of one to plant hybrid roses that need a lot of care, I’ve bought a ‘Peace’ rose to plant in the front yard. I want it as a reminder in the years to come that even though 2020 has brought many challenges, there was still beauty and the world’s greatest desire is still ‘Peace.”

Don’t let your attention waver for a moment these days and don’t neglect to look for peace and beauty everywhere, it may be no bigger than the head of a pin.

Laura