Author: lwcmartin@bellsouth.net

We just got back from a spectacular week in Oregon, visiting family.  The weather was perfect and the grandchildren?  What can I say?  Absolutely adorable.

I was lucky enough to pick up Davey after his first day of kindergarten.  He was all smiles and full of energy and wanted to DO something or MAKE something or just MOVE.  When we got to his house, he went directly to the kitchen, climbed up on the counter and announced he was going to make a cake and he had his own recipe and didn’t need me.  After I watched him pour both cayenne pepper and garlic powder into a bowl I decided maybe he did need me.  I asked him if he had any blueberries and he answers, “millions!!!!”

And he was (almost) right.  Their freezer was full of bags of frozen blueberries that he and his family had been picking all summer.

Hood River, Oregon is Mecca for the fruit enthusiast.  Along the Columbia River and up into the hills and mountains on both the Oregon and the Washington side, there are acres and acres of orchards and farms.  So much emphasis has been placed on growing berries throughout the state that Oregon has been referred to as “the Berry Basket” of the country.

Blueberries are one of our few native fruits.  American Indians have been eating and enjoying them for centuries and were very aware of their health value.  The first blueberries were cultivated in 1916.  Today, blueberries are grown on five continents and production is about one billion pounds annually.

So what did Davey do with his “millions” of blueberries?  He (with the help of his Mom) made the family favorite – blueberry brunch cake.  You can use either frozen or fresh berries for this and it always turns out great and it’s not just for breakfast!  You should try it yourself.  The recipe is below.  One word of advice – I’d leave out the cayenne pepper and the garlic powder!

Blueberry Brunch Cake

Cake:

• 1 cup flour
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 egg
• 1/3 cup light olive oil
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1 teaspoon lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Mix dry ingredients together.  In a separate bowl, mix the olive oil, egg, milk and lemon juice.  Mix in with the dry ingredients and pour into a greased square 8″ x 8″ pan.

Topping:

• 1 1/4 cups blueberries
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/4 cup flour
• 2 tablespoons butter

Mix all topping ingredients and pour evenly over the cake batter.

Bake at 350 degrees until cake has set, about 30 minutes.  Enjoy!

 

 

 

Yesterday I was cutting flowers to bring into the house when a butterfly landed on a stalk of phlox that I had just cut, almost as if to say “wait, wait, one more sip.”

To walk through my field of phlox is to literally, walk with the butterflies as they slowly flitter from one blossom to the next.  The vast majority of them are swallowtails.  I  mistakenly thought that I was looking at both the black and the yellow Eastern tiger swallowtails but then I found out that the female of the Eastern tiger can be either yellow or black.  I do have true Black swallowtails in my garden, but they are much smaller than the Eastern.

The yellow Eastern tiger swallowtail is the state butterfly for Georgia (and Delaware, Virginia, South Carolina and North Carolina.) It is a highly successful (and environmentally stable) butterfly as it is not as picky as the beleaguered Monarch in what it sips and feeds on.  Tiger swallowtails will pollinate a huge number of flowers, including garden phlox.  They seem to prefer pink and red flowers but are considered “generalists” or perhaps opportunists, as they will use many different nectar plants.

Females lay small green eggs singly on host plants such as tulip poplar, wild black cherry, ash, willow and sweet bay.   The caterpillars are brown and white when young, turning green with black eyespots as they age.  This species usually broods 2 – 3 times a year in our region, spending the cold winter months hibernating in the chrysalis stage.

Mid to late summer is an excellent time to see all kinds of butterflies.  The Monarch, which feeds only on species of milkweeds, migrates to Mexico and can only be seen in our part of the country during spring and fall migration flights.

The Gulf fritillary is mostly orange with black spots which show silver on the undersides.  This feeds on the native Passion flower vine.  This species is very common in Florida and Texas.  When the gulf fritillary feels threatened (as from a bird), it releases an odor that is noticeably unpleasant.  It is an effective deterrent to a potential predator.

Common buckeyes can breed up to four times a year.  Nectar plants include asters and coreopsis while the caterpillars feed on verbena, snapdragons and plantains.

I feel so lucky that so many butterflies call my garden home.  I’m happy to provide both nectar and host plants in the hopes that they will come back year after year and find my garden “good to the last sip.”

 

 

I have a friend who is a fellow plant enthusiast.  When we’re out walking the fields and woods together, we don’t cover much territory.  Our noses to the ground, we stop frequently to point out and discuss the plants along our route.  Our enthusiasm is endless and finding a new species (for us) is like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Our arguments are equally intense.  (“That’s Elephantopus tomentosus,”  “How can you say that?  It has to be Elephantopus cariolinianus!  Look how smooth the leaves are”)  and so forth.  We are both right about half the time – and wrong the other half and the arguments are as much fun as the enthusiasms.

Unfortunately, my friend and I seem to be in the minority in our passion for identifying plants.  An article in the Wall Street Journal last week declared in big letters that the U, S. is running short of botanists.  I don’t know whether to feel like I’m a dinosaur or “in demand.”

The need for botanists is as great – or greater – now than it’s ever been.  The  National Park Service and the Bureau of Land Management are having difficulty filling positions as older botanists retire.  A scientist at the Chicago Botanic Garden estimates that there is one botanist on the federal payroll for every 20 million acres of land.

The dearth of qualified botanists is, in part, due to the epidemic of “plant blindness” in the United States, the “growing inability by Americans – and even well-degreed biologists – to tell the difference among even basic plants,” according to this article.

Fortunately, there are measures being taken to “cure” this blindness.  Bills were introduced in the Senate and in the U.S. House during the last year to promote botany education.  But this is something that we can all do something about.  Right now (after you finish reading this blog).  I like to think that you, my dear readers, are all plant identification experts.  If, perhaps, the plant world is still a little fuzzy around the edges, do something about it before you go totally blind.

What to do?  go outside and look, really look at the plants around you.  Notice the differences and the similarities among plants.  You probably know more than you think you do.  I bet even YOU can tell an oak tree from a pine, an azalea from a hydrangea! Test yourself, see how much you know.  All it takes is for you to open your eyes and be aware of the magnificent beauty and splendor of the plant world that surrounds us.

The most important thing is for our children and grandchildren to look at the world around them and to begin to know the plants.  Fortunately, plants are everywhere!  Get kids off their phones and away from their computers.  Make sure that they go outside.  Make sure they touch and feel and smell nature.  Maybe then, a virtual world on a screen will seem flat and boring in comparison.

My goal?  20/20 plant vision for everyone I know – and beyond! After all, William Blake promised us that we could “see heaven in a wild flower.”  All we have to do is look.

Steven Stills may have had it right.  If you can’t be with the one you love, “love the one you’re with.”  I think about that when I’m weeding the grass out of the petunias in the front garden.  Frankly (don’t tell Petunia), I’ve never been a big fan of this flower.  Oh yeah, yeah, I love all flowers etc. etc. but petunias?  Big fat blobs on skinny stems?  Petunias lack the scent of a tea rose, the complexity of an orchid, the beauty of a lily.  However, since I can’t “be” with tea roses, orchids and lilies all summer, I’ve decided to love the one I’m with.  And I’m with petunias.

Actually, they have done remarkably well during this hot, wet summer.  I planted an entire row of them along the street garden and every time I turn into the driveway, I’m impressed and, yep! I’m loving them.  I chose the small flowered variety because I don’t have to pick off the blooms as they fade.  They just sort of fall off to be replaced by new ones.  I love to garden but why create more work?  If I don’t have to deadhead petunias, I can spend that time tending to my tea roses.

I do have my standards, though. I’m not going to love all the creepy wild thing that show up in my garden.  Anything that is overly aggressive or potentially invasive is not allowed to stay (yes, kudzu, I’m talking about you).  Even in my free and happy garden, each plant has to show some manners and know its place.  It’s not a rigid caste system, it’s just a community where everything has to contribute and nothing can overstep its welcome.

Gardening is all about being pragmatic.  There are certain things that like to grow in my garden (petunias) and certain things that just don’t (tea roses.) For me, it’s all a balancing act, trying to keep some things from growing too much while I encourage other things to grow more. Because of this, it’s no surprise that my garden looks different every year.  I love that about gardening.  It’s always full of surprises, some happier than others, but always interesting.

So as I see sourwood leaves showing color and see the occasional yellow oak leaf floating on the lake, I know that fall is right around the corner and the petunias will have to go.  I have appreciated them and have been happy to have had them all summer but I’m ready to “be with the ones I love.”

 

Unfortunately, I only have a little bit of thyme, but I did want to offer some sage advice about growing herbs.  What I mint to say was…..okay, I’ll stop.  Puns are an integral (unfortunate?) part of family humor and I know that I’ll rue the day if I keep it up.  Sort of like unleashing Rosemary‘s baby.

People grow herbs for many different reasons, from use in cooking to attracting pollinators, from use as dried flowers to scenting potpourris.  Whatever your reason for growing these beautiful, useful plants, you should include a few herbs in every sunny garden.  If you don’t have ample sunshine in your garden, there are several herbs that you can grow in pots to put on a sun soaked deck or porch.

Rosemary is by far the biggest herb in my garden.  Planted in the center of my front garden, it is huge and bushy and healthy.  I’m so enamored with this evergreen shrub that I have planted several small ones along the front brick wall as an evergreen backdrop.

The smallest herb I grow is a tiny stand of creeping thyme and though the creeping varieties are not technically considered culinary thymes, I still use the small leaves for flavoring in soups and stews.  Culinary thymes are upright small shrubs with bigger leaves and beautiful purple flowers.  These are ultimately easier for cooking as it is much faster to pluck the larger leaves off the stems.  All thymes are perennial and, like most herbs, need full sun and well drained soils.

If you want to grow mint, be prepared to stand firm and not let it outgrow its welcome.  There are dozens of different kinds of mint including chocolate, lemon, spear, pepper, apple, pineapple……the list seems endless.  Mint is a notoriously aggressive plant and will overtake a garden bed in a season.  I grow mine in a pot, which I put in the garden but move periodically so the roots won’t grow through the hole in the bottom of the pot and begin to spread from there.  The divinely scented leaves are lovely and are useful for making teas or used as garnish.

My sage, too, grows in a pot and has survived several seasons outdoors.  I consider it one of my most useful herbs.  Sage isn’t used in a wide variety of dishes but when a recipe calls for sage, there’s no substitute.  Sage, or Salvia, is a genus that encompasses a huge diversity and I grow several different kinds. Some, such as the blue and purple, I grow for their gorgeous blossoms and their outstanding ability to attract pollinators.

The abundance of rainfall this summer has helped my basil plants continue to grow and thrive.  The heat has made many of the leaves look a little sunburned and dry around the edges but I keep it clipped back and the new growth is tender and sweet.    Basil is an herb that you can  store for winter use.  Make pesto! Or, pour 1/2 cup good quality olive oil into a container and place as many basil leaves in it as possible.  Keep in the refrigerator and use this infused oil in salad dressings or marinades.   There are many different kinds of basils, including Holy, cinnamon, clove, lemon and even licorice!

A pot of parsley, planted in fall, should survive our southern winters and provide months of fresh greens.  Include it in planter boxes at the back door.

Well, I hope you think that I rose to the occasion.  I’m going to hop to it and quit peppering your thoughts with more herbs to grow. Hope you’ve had a good thyme!

Laura

Before you jump to any conclusions, let me say that my “trek” only lasted 7 miles (not the possible 2000 plus) and a few hours (not the 3 – 4 months it takes to do the whole thing.).  BUT, being on the trail with only my dog for company was a blast.  My favorite hiking partner, Jack, had to work so last Friday Sadie and I headed out to hike the trail, starting at Woody’s Gap in north Georgia.

With Sadie happily bounding through the woods, sniffing out squirrels and chipmunks, I had my nose to the ground looking for wildflowers.  Luckily, summer woods wildflowers are much taller than their spring cousins so I didn’t really have my nose all the way on the ground.  Even so, I saw masses of beautiful flowers scattered throughout the woods.

This time of year, the yellow composites (daisy like flowers) dominate and I saw lots of native coreopsis, tickseed, tall coneflowers and black eyed Susans both along the roadside and along the trail.  Black-eyed Susans are native to American  prairies and plains and are now prolific throughout much of the Southeast.

Our native impatiens, jewelweed, grows close to the streams.  It is well named as each of these orange or yellowish blossoms grows singly, looking like a precious pendant among the mass of green leaves.  Native Americans used the leaves of this plant to counter the effects of poison ivy.  I was glad to know this tidbit as there was LOTS of poison ivy along the trail as well.

By far the most colorful flower – and the most abundant – was the summer phlox.  The word phlox comes from the Greek word for “flame” .  Most of my fires burn yellow, red and orange but perhaps in the days of Aristotle, fires burned pink and purple?  Although I have a back yard full of phlox, I was delighted to see such an abundance of it growing in the wild.

Tall, purple bellflower was a new flower for me, as was the starry campion.  I was delighted to come back and identify them.

The highlight of the hike (though Sadie may not agree) was finding a Turk’s cap lily.  Tall, stately and gorgeous, it was partially hidden in the underbrush, making it all that more exciting to uncover.   There are several lilies native to the Southeast but this is the most common.

According to superstition, pink phlox is supposed to give you sweet dreams.  That’s one superstition that I completely believe in, as all my dreams that night were of the beauty of the wildflowers along the Appalachian Trail for my (short solo) hike.

Next year maybe I’ll go all the way to Maine.

Maybe not.

Happy summer!

Several months ago, I wrote about the demise of trees in our neighborhood and how we have had three very large trees go down on our property.  A huge oak, inches from the house, loomed large not only over the roof of our bedroom but also in my thoughts.  We finally, sadly, had it taken down, which broke my heart but also made it easier to sleep at night.

There is absolutely nothing that can replace or compare to a 100 plus year old oak tree BUT there are certain other compensations.  Jack and I decided to have a piece of art made from the remaining stump.  Jack’s first suggestion was a life size carving of himself, which I laughingly and quickly vetoed.  ( I think he was kidding).  His next suggestion was to have a chair carved out of it which I thought was a brilliant idea. When we had the tree removed, we asked that they leave the stump 5 1/2 feet tall.   A quick online search provided the names of several chainsaw artists but only one was of real interest to me.  I contacted him and Kary Kaley, Junior entered  our lives.

I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted from this stump and Kary did an outstanding job making my vision into a reality.  Basically, I wanted it to feel like you were sitting in the tree when you sat on this chair.  And I do! It is surprisingly comfortable and with the one, wide arm, you can happily sit there with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, looking at the garden and feeling a part of it.  Today I tried sitting in it with a grandchild and it’s plenty big enough.  I envision sitting with a child, reading.  Maybe A Tree Grows in Brooklyn?  The Giving Tree? The Lorax?

As Kary got deeper and deeper into the center of the tree, it became apparent that some sort of black rot had begun to set in, which made me immensely grateful that we had decided to take it down before it fell.

I think Kary would have happily carved a menagerie onto the tree chair and he certainly has the skills to do it!  We compromised with a family of owls.  We have a lot of owls in the neighborhood so adding a Mama owl at the top and two babies at the bottom seemed the right thing to do.

I know that this piece of carved art will continue to change as the tree stump ages.  We’re doing what we can to protect it from the elements, putting coat after coat of polyurethane on it.  I know we’ll probably lose the bark at some point but hopefully Kary will still be around to continue his work to make this leftover tree stump into a work of art.

I am so grateful for the tree itself and for the artistry and skills of Kary Kaley.  If you’re a tree hugger, come by and see what it feels like to be hugged by a tree in return.  It’s marvelous!

Laura

P.S.  If you have need of Kary’s services (and I highly recommend him!), send him an email:  kwkjrart@gmail.com

 

 

Everyone knows that Georgia is the Peach State.  Logic would dictate that it is because Georgia produces so many peaches.  Just like California, the Golden State, produces so much gold?  or Louisiana produces so many pelicans?? or North Carolina produces so many Tar Heels????? (not counting sports fans).  At this point I began to realize that logic has little to do with a state’s nickname, even in Georgia.

In 2016, peaches only accounted for .38% of the state’s economy, way less than proceeds from selling pine straw, cabbages or blueberries.  I guess it could be worse, I guess we could be “the cabbage state.” The hullabaloo with peaches in Georgia dates back to the 1920’s when enthusiastic peach growers began holding “Peach Festivals” in various towns in south Georgia to promote the sale of peaches.  This splendid idea grew and grew until in 1924, the town of Ft. Valley (population 4,000) hosted a Peach Festival that attracted 20,000 people and the Peach Queen wore a pearl trimmed dress valued at $32,000 (probably more than the peach crop was worth) . Since that time, Georgia has been known as The Peach State.

It’s okay with me, I love peaches and was particularly thrilled to discover that this year offers a bumper crop of delicious peaches.  2017 was one of the worst peach years ever due to warm winter temperatures and then a late frost, but 2018 has been just peachy weather.  Not only are peaches abundant this year, they are also fabulous.

You can tell if a peach is going to be good or not the moment you cut into it.  If the flesh is shiny and the juice runs clear, you’ve got yourself a peach of a peach.  Although they are superb just to eat right out of your hand, they may be even better baked into a delicious pie.

Rivers, my (almost) 11 year old grandson is quite the baker and when the family got together last week, Rivers baked TWO gorgeous peach pies.  He has his own website and cooking blog where he posted the recipe.  So, check it out and let us know what you think: http://www.thespectacularspatula.com .

I love planter boxes!  They offer the opportunity to garden in a box, to move or change an entire landscape on a whim.  But, I have to admit that it takes time and money to replant all my containers twice a year – once in spring and again in the fall.  So, I had the “brilliant” idea of planting perennials in containers and sitting back in the rocking chair to watch them grow and thrive year after year.

Needless to say, it didn’t work out quite as I had hoped and expected.  For one thing, duh…., almost all perennials go dormant for at least part of the year, meaning my miniature landscapes looked a little barren for months on end.  For another thing, the perennials I put into these boxes of rich, delicious potting soil were so extremely happy that they dug down deep and produced a root system that was only confined by the shape of the container.  But, with no place else to grow, their happiness hit a wall and they began to languish.

Nevertheless, I have had good success by adding just a few perennials to the annuals in my containers.  After 2 or 3 years, ajuga now spills over the containers at the back door.  They take up very little actual planting space and offer a rich, living adornment for the container.  In addition, I planted some creeping jenny which also drapes and spills over the side.  Though Japanese Painted Fern is only green and growing for 8 months of the year, I can plant the remainder of the container with seasonal annuals that cover up any bare spots.  This summer I used a combination of green and reddish coleus.  When cool weather comes again (can’t wait!!) I’ll probably put in some sort of violas or pansies.  Or maybe some parsley!

The other perennial that I have used quite successfully is a variegated ivy, that does stay green all year.  Though fairly invasive (but not as invasive as its cousin, English ivy,) the variegated ivy offers a beautiful border for the large pots on the front porch.  As it sends out long runners, I have simply buried these in the next pot and let them root.

The most ridiculous perennial I have in a pot is a lone, scraggly pine.  It appeared as a volunteer three years ago and looked so cute I just let it stay.  This year, it began to grow.  It’s not very appealing, it will soon outgrow the space.  I know I have to get rid of it but by now it’s kind of like a gangly adolescent living at my back door.  I know I have to cut those apron strings.  Someday.  Just not yet.

 

Happy Fourth of July!

As people prepare to celebrate the Fourth of July, I see red, white and blue everywhere, including in my own backyard.  I have to admit that I had to cheat a little with the colors, as my reds are a little pink and my blue is a little purple.  But, for the most part, my garden boasts the color of old glory.

I have a lot of white in my garden because at one time I had the idea of having an all white garden.  The idea was appealing because it seemed clean, cool and sophisticated.  Similarly, I often have the idea of having a clean, cool and sophisticated house.  Apparently, it’s just not “me.”  Life seems to have a way of interrupting this idea.  In my white garden, pink phlox persisted, yellow black-eyed Susans appeared out of the blue and the blue salvia was just too beautiful to resist.  In my “white” house?  Grandkids.  Need I say more?

Nevertheless, I do have beautiful patches of white in my gardens, from petunias in the front to white phlox and Japanese aster in the back.  The aster (which is not a true aster),  blooms almost from frost to frost.  It is an excellent, carefree plant that blooms in both sun and shade.  Many of my hostas put forth superb white blooms and white phlox shines like moonlight among its pink cousins.

My red comes from beebalm.  Like the name implies, this Georgia native attracts all kinds of pollinators, including bees and hummingbirds.  It is a hardy, prolific bloomer that does equally as well in sun and shade.   

 

 

I planted blue phlox behind the white petunias this year for the first time and am very pleased.  This is a plant that needs full sun to bloom well.  It appreciates a light feeding of organic fertilizer to help withstand the hot, humid weather still to come.

As I look out over my garden today, it is a reminder that the colors of “Old Glory” are still here.  It is my hope and prayer that they will persist for generations to come, weathering seasons of both drought and abundance.

Happy Fourth of July,    Laura