Encouraging a spirit of fairness in the gardening world

The 6th anniversary of Bloomingwriter passed quietly a couple of weeks ago. I was busy with work projects and with developing the growing community of bloominganswers, and I needed some time to think about a retrospective post. Now into its seventh year, Bloomingwriter has long been one of my ways to give back to the gardening community. I've learned so much from other gardeners, other writers, over the years, made some terrific friends, some of whom I've yet to meet face to face but whom I consider close friends regardless. Some of you are cat fans like me, and some continue in the quest for the blue poppy.
Several of those friends are outspoken, frank, and honest, passionate about gardening in all its forms. Colleen Vanderlinden is one of those gutsy writers who stands up for what she believes in, and who works hard to educate people about the pros of organic gardening and the need for responsible stewardship. It's been fabulous to watch her develop from writing a blog to writing for some well-respected publications including Treehugger.com, and she has two books on gardening for midwestern US to her credit, one forthcoming.

Oh, Deer. The Curse of Many Gardeners.

There are several questions that garden writers get over and over again, and try to answer with varying degrees of success. “How do I keep deer from eating my…?” is the most often, and most plaintively-asked question. You can fill in the blanks as to what they’re eating, depending on the season: rhododendrons, holly, thuja and yew in winter; tulips and crocus in spring; daylilies, hosta, roses, daylilies vegetables, tree and berry fruits, and a host of other tasty options in summer. They’re voracious. And they’re not going away any time soon.

The Return of the Native...Plant!

We have had a blessed, blessed amount of rain in the past few days, including a truly impressive drenching last night with a spectacular thunder and lightning storm. It's almost too wet to work in some parts of the garden, but I did take a little break and go out to pull some couchgrass, plant some heathers and astilbes and look for the right locations for some of the new plants sitting in the dooryard. I came in the house with scratches from roses on my arms, wet feet, bits of spruce buds in my hair, and a serene attitude.

Tomorrow, the annual Friends of the Acadia Forest Region Society Native Plant Sale is being held at the Harriet Irving Botanical Gardens at my other alma mater, Acadia University in Wolfville. This will include plants grown by the Friends as well as plants from local nurseries, such as Bunchberry Nurseries in Upper Clements and Baldwin Nurseries in Falmouth.

The owner of Bunchberry Nurseries, Jill Covill, and I went to Agricultural College together back some years ago, and it's always a treat to go visit Bunchberry and catch up with her, which Long Suffering Spouse and I did on Wednesday. Jill was preparing for tomorrow's plant sale and deciding what she should bring, and we got into a discussion about native plants and what parameters we should use in defining natives.

I said for me, it's easy; I decided some time ago that I'm going to follow Allan Armitage's definitions of native, and use North America as my region when considering natives. Of course, not all North American natives are hardy or suitable for a zone 5b maritime climate, but still, there are plenty of options for my garden.


For those who enjoy bird watching or encouraging wildlife in their gardens, the use of native plants can put out a big welcome mat to wild creatures. If you visit a garden that includes natives in its plantings, you’ll find it alive with sound and activity, far different from the “green pavement” of many subdivision gardens.

I'm not an absolute, 'natives only' gardener, and never preach that at others, either. I simply make a case for adding natives to a property because there are so many beautiful, functional, effective plants to choose from. I also stress that they aren't all fool-proof, pest-free, or maintenance-free. No matter what we expect to grow in our gardens, we have to know our soil and climate conditions before we add any plants, native or introduced, heritage or hybrid, to our plantings.

I do find people are often surprised by just how many gorgeous plants ARE native, and how multi-season they can be. The same amelanchier whose flowers enchanted me just a couple of weeks ago will be causing me to oooh and ahhhh this autumn, putting on a display of colour as spectacular as any shrub or tree you could imagine.

So that's my stand on natives. Wonderful plants, many of them--they aren't all perfect--and great for encouraging wildlife and pollinators, providing multi-season colour, and just adding more charm to any garden. I'm glad to see more landscapers--real ones, not the fly-by-nights who think Stella d'oro daylilies and globe cedars and Norway maples make a perfect planting--are also embracing adding natives to their designs. I bet there will be a great turnout of people to tomorrow's sale at Acadia; and if you're there, do have a walk through the native-plant botanical gardens, because they are not to be missed either. I probably won't be there, as LSS tells me I have over 100 things (perennials, annuals, shrubs, trees) that need planting at the moment...

Remember when Duckies went a-courting?

You may remember that a few weeks ago on Wordless Wednesday, I posted a photo of Mr. and Mrs. Wild Mallard, feeding in the back yard.

LongSuffering Spouse started hollering at me a little while ago, to come quickly. So I unfolded myself from my office chair where I was wrestling with an article, and lurched out into the kitchen to see what he was excited about.

Aha. Mrs. Wild Mallard had brought the children up to have a feed. You can imagine how proud we are, as proxy godparents (feeders of many wild birds around here).

Eleven babies. They're more than a week old, I would say, given their size; this is the first time I've seen her bring them up, and they knew just what to do.

And they also know to obey their mama when she says it's time to go back down to the pond, too.

I shot these pics through the bathroom window, so they're slightly obscured by raindrops (hurray!! for rain!!) and glass. But you get the point. I'm still grinning. So is LSS, who announced while I was downloading the photos that Mrs. Mallard had just put the run to a crow who was coming in for a feed too. She's sassy. I'm glad the courting paid off.

The Prognostications of Shubenacadie Sam

In Nova Scotia, February 2 or Groundhog Day is celebrated by some who gather at the wildlife park in Shubenacadie. At the alloted hour, handlers gently awaken Shubenacadie Sam from his warm burrow and entice him out to give his prophesy. He's the first groundhog in North America to make his prediction, being the most easterly-residing prophet.
This, however, isn't Shubie Sam. I nicknamed him Marconi because his burrow was near the remains of a Marconi station at Point Amour Lighthouse in southern Labrador. 
My travelling companion and I met Marconi by the lighthouse the day of much great wind, on our return from Battle Harbour in the Battle Islands. He was quite complacent about us following him around for a while...

When he decided he'd had enough, he scurried off across the field and we took that as our cue to go to the lighthouse. 

As to whether Sam will see his shadow today or not? He might see it, but either way, it'll probably take at least 6 weeks for the snow we have now to melt. It just gets deeper every day. But I console myself that things are well insulated in the gardens, and my work allows me to stay home if there IS a weather tantrum happening. The days are getting longer, there's heat in the sun on those days when it IS out, so we'll make it through. We always do, don't we?

As a special Groundhog Day/Imbolc gift to us, my Longsuffering Spouse looked out the window as the sun was coming up to find our favourite backyard visitors are finally here. The snow buntings have arrived and were happily snacking under the big feeder.

These charming and busy little birds are one of those things that make me instantly happy. The pictures are from last year, as my other GroundHog Day gift is the wicked cold my hubby has had the past few days, so I won't be venturing outside today to try to take pictures. Please pass the orange juice and the Buckleys! HOW many more weeks of winter was that again?

The miracle of birth vs the weedwhackers

So I'm musing over assorted work related topics and trying to decide whether to vacuum the house or work on assignments when Long Suffering Spouse starts hollering outside. I knew he was out back with one of the neighbours, so I went out...and met this new arrival, wings still wet.

Well, naturally I ran for my camera, and returned to sit in wet grass watching her as she rested, opened her wings a few times, and unfurled her proboscis a bit for my observing pleasure.
I left her be, hanging there on her rudbeckia, and went around to look at the others. Some others have also hatched, though I haven't seen them yet--it's cool here and they need to get their wings warmed up before they can fly--but I hope to catch this one in the process of coming out, as it's obviously getting ready to emerge soon:

Meanwhile, there are several cats munching through the swamp milkweed again. I told them they'd better hurry up, as Kylee at Our Little Acre reports that the migration has begun down her way.

As if to compensate for my moody posting on Muse Day, the garden is bustling with life--much of it of the insect kind, especially pollinators, with big fat bumbles and other bees, bee-mimicking flies, and other friends. Plus we've seen several garden toads, a few frogs up from the pond, and my favourite, the tiny tree-frogs known as spring peepers. They're silent now, of course, but they're here. The skunks have been digging up grubs from the grass, and they're welcome too, because they have a laissez-faire attitude towards the cats.

And there are still plenty of flowers, even if some of them are of the kind that annoy one Ranter ; echinaceas and rudbeckia. As I posted in comments, though, each to their own. At least we're all gardening--and not cutting off other people's gardens like the nice municipal plant-nazis in Toronto, right?

Okay, back to thinking about butterflies and other life-affirming creatures. What's blooming in your garden--flora or fauna--that makes YOUR heart sing?