The passing of time in the garden

It's December 30.  The rain is slowly melting all the snow and two robins--from the flock of 50 or so that did not head south--are in the trees outside my window.  It's hard to say when autumn ended and winter began.  However, notes from my autumn "sketchbook" tell otherwise...

The dark clouds and the strong, persistent winds. The rain as it briefly dashes at the kitchen window. The pair of hummingbirds at dusk, darting around the back patio. The glow of the red salvia, thriving in the cool autumn weather and more vibrant than at any other time of the growing season. 

The lantana, sending up bushy flower-packed stems as if it lived in California, not knowing the frost will blacken its leaves in just a few weeks.  The half moon glowing through wispy clouds after the rain. The large black turkey vultures, soaring on the winds, a sign that they will be migrating south. The sharp contrast of the gaillardia's red and yellow petals as they spill over the retaining wall.

The honeysuckle berries, red orbs that hug leafy branches with leaves that are turning chartreuse. The deep red and rust leaves of a purple ash across the street in the woods. The constant song of crickets, even outside the workplace along a busy urban street. 

The way most of the trees and shrubs still remain green but knowing that it won't be too long before their trunks and branches are bare and exposed.  The raucous cry of bluejays as they travel back and forth over the oak woods hugging our road for a good two miles. The bright chrysanthemums in orange, yellow, deep rust and violet--splashing color in front of shops and on porch steps. The deep burgundy-leaved Pennisetum rubrum, planted in the border, much larger than its brethren in containers.

The castor bean plants, bowed to the ground by the damaging winds. The crispy, delicate leaves of the Japanese maple, Waterfall, as it begins to brighten with its autumn color. The striking pinks, reds and orange of the dragonwing begonias that spill over their containers. 

The hundreds of feathery dill seedlings that are carpeting the potager. The handful of white Queen Anne's lace blooming along the roadside. The feathery needles, soft and delicate, of two Austrian pines, planted by the old horse corral near the farmhouse once owned by Milt, a printer who spent his retirement grafting and planting fruit trees on his seven acres.  The way Milt once casually said to us, "Oh, you should be grafting your own.  Just use RootStock number A Something-Or-Other," and the way he made it sound so simple. 

The walnut trees yet to be, planted by Milt in the adjoining old farm field.  The dead burr oak tree in front of his farmhouse--a quiet giant that sprouted more than two centuries ago--doomed since it cracked in half, withstanding high winds not much longer, and likely to crash on a very still, sunny day when least expected. The handful of leaves that cling to corky twigs on those behemoth arms in an upper section of the tree that's barely alive. The story he told of a young girl--a member of the first family that owned the house--who sat swinging from the tree until she saw three Potawatami Indians on their horses riding toward the house.  The log cabin that sits snugly inside the house, enclosed with 20th Century amenities like wallboard. 

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Pondering the Poinsettias

Quiet Contemplation in the Greenhouse

There are many things to be thankful for and to reflect upon as the year grows to a close. Garden designer Patti Kirkpatrick, who helps design and plant the hummingbird garden and indoor displays at the Bird Haven Greenhouse and Conservatory in Joliet, is grateful for the "Black Scallop" ajuga (Ajuga reptans "Black Scallop"). It's a "living mulch," she says, "and the 'Black Scallop' is truly black."

Kirkpatrick also is thankful for the great volunteers who help with plant sales, and, she adds, "Most of all, I am thankful to be working with Mother Nature as an artist's medium. It is ever-changing, always challenging, most rewarding. Just to enhance her work, be it for a short time, is such an opportunity. And the appreciation of others who enjoy it is beyond words."

Take some time this holiday to visit your local greenhouse or conservatory, take a deep breath and sit down to contemplate.   

For those in the Chicago area, consider visiting the Bird Haven Greenhouse, 225 N. Gougar Road, Joliet. Hours are 8 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. daily; closed holidays. Check out jolietpark.org or call 815-741-7278.

Good Reads for Winter

Garden books may come and go but one of that will always have a place on my bookshelves is Elements of Garden Design by landscape designer Joe Eck. He and Wayne Winterrowd (who passed away earlier this year), co-wrote A Year at North Hill.  They transformed North Hill, their garden in Vermont, over the last 30 years into an incredible setting. Eck has written other books, but this one, published in 1996 in paperback, is 164 pages, sprinkled with black and white illustrations of his garden and divided into simple, short chapters on style, color, structure and so on. It’s something you can read at night before dozing off to dream about your garden. My copy has yellow highlighting throughout.


One sentence in particular hits home:

“Tentative and spontaneous additions to a garden space can often become its most serious liabilities.”

Many gardeners can relate to that experience. Especially in spring when, after a cold, miserable winter, we long for anything green. And buy it on impulse. This arbor was one of those spontaneous purchases that I later lamented. Made of white plastic resin, it stood out at night like a searchlight. It glowed even without moonlight. During the day, it caught one’s eyes no matter what else was in the garden so I moved it. And painted it. And then plunked two smokebushes on either side.


With a little paint I had transformed what had been a jarring liability into a “doorway” leading to the side yard. This spring I’m going to restrain myself from such purchases. Maybe.

—Nina Koziol

Annuals Make Good Planting $en$e

One way to rein in your plant purchases next spring without putting a damper on your dream garden is to use annuals-especially those you can start from seeds sown directly into the garden. For 15 to 25 bucks--the price of one or two flats of flowers or hanging baskets-y-ou can buy a fistful of seed packets that will produce hundreds of plants in a rainbow of colors and shapes.


Some annuals, such as morning glories, hyacinth bean, cardinal climber and moonflower, climb by leaps and bounds. Sunflowers, in shades of red, cherry, gold or white, turn their “faces” throughout the day to follow the sun. Some annuals are fragrant, like the night-scented tobacco flower, and others can add zing to a flower arrangement.

Chives, kale and strawflowers from seed

Unlike perennials, which typically return every spring, but usually flower for just a few weeks, annuals tend to bloom their little heads off from late spring right up until frost. When they finish flowering, they produce seeds and then head for that garden in the sky. You can collect the seed for freebie flowers next year and rearrange where you use them for a new look.


By sowing annuals from seeds, “your world opens to plants you never knew existed,” says garden designer Patti Kirkpatrick of Joliet, Ill. “My advice to newbies and other gardeners is to just try it.” Each spring, she sows seeds of Chinese forget-me-not (Cynoglossum), which offers shades of blue and pink and will bloom in full sun to light shade. “It’s a must for those tiny little flower arrangements.”


Some annuals, such as four o’clocks (Mirabilis jalapa) will self-sow in spring if you let the seeds drop in the ground come fall. “Four o’clocks are excellent for nighttime pollinators, like the hummingbird moth,” says Nancy Kuhajda, Master Gardener coordinator for the University of Illinois Extension in Joliet. Among her favorite annuals for sowing each spring are zinnias, larkspur, love-in-a-mist (Nigella), cosmos and cleome, also called spider flower for its wispy petals. “Cleome is great for sunny places where nothing else will grow,” she says.

And there are annuals to suit every garden style. The uniform shapes of marigolds, begonias and salvia make them excellent edging plants in a formal or geometrical planting bed. But the more willowy and wild-looking annuals, such as cosmos, sunflowers and amaranthus, are best for a loose or more natural-looking flower bed.

“A lot of annuals look garish in a natural border,” says Jill Selinger of the Chicago Botanic Garden in Glencoe, Ill. “You see geraniums or petunias in a natural planting and they just don’t jibe.” In her own garden in the conservation-minded Prairie Crossing subdivision in Grayslake, Ill., Selinger sows seeds of the tall, fragrant tobacco flower (Nicotiana sylvestris) and Italian White sunflowers. The heirloom morning glory, called Grandpa Ott reseeds on its own each year, with a slight vengeance. “It comes back great and they were coming up everywhere, but you can get your little trowel and flick out the ones you don’t want.” Or give them away to those other gardeners who are watching their wallets.


Successful Sowings

Many gardeners who try seed-sowing outdoors for the first time get frustrated when few or no plants germinate, says Nancy Kuhadja, Master Gardener coordinator for the University of Illinois Extension in Joliet. Here are her tips for getting seeds off to a good start.

“Wait for soil temps to warm,” Kuhajda says. “Seeds planted in cold soil often rot or succumb to disease before they can germinate.” The last frost date for the Chicago area, for example, typically takes place about May 15, so in that region plant mid-May or later.


Prepare the planting area. Loosen the top few inches of soil with a trowel and rake it smooth before planting.

Read the seed packet. “Most people plant seeds too deep. The depth should be only double the size of the seed,” Kuhajda says. Some seeds need light to germinate, so simply sow the seeds on the soil surface and press them down lightly with the palm of your hand.


Show ‘em the light. Most annuals require six or more hours of summer sun. However, many will tolerate light shade-the result being fewer flowers.


Water gently, deeply and slowly. “Just like a baby, the tiny seedling is vulnerable,” Kuhajda says. Use a water-soluble balanced fertilizer once the plants are 4 inches or taller.

Thin out seedlings. “Either mix seeds with sand for better spacing or prepare to pull some seedlings out. Crowded plants are not healthy plants,” Kuhajda says. Mark the area with a labeled stick or seed packet so you don’t accidentally pull out the new seedlings.


-- Nina A. Koziol    thisgardencooks.com

Rodent Patrol

This little guy (or gal) is one of several that have come and gone through our garden the past few years. For almost two decades we rarely saw a fox.  And then one spring there were pups, born under a neighbor's garden shed.  

They lounged under the birches like young cats, yawning, stretching and  chasing one another around the garden.  The coyotes have now been chasing the fox and that is troubling.  I'm hoping they can share the habitat, but only time will tell.  When the fox are present, the mouse, vole and chipmunk population is under control.

Seed Catalogs Galore!

The winter solstice hasn’t quite arrived but the seed catalogs are piling up. A few arrive every day. For the most part they are packed with glossy photos of stunning vegetables in rainbow colors. Many, like Johnny’s provide exceptional horticultural information, as good as most vegetable gardening books. There’s Seed Savers Exchange and Shepherd’s Kitchen Garden Seeds…all delightful with their own assortment of goods. But I like to look at old seed catalogs.

They have a charm like none other. Old line drawings, lithographs, some with watercolors. This one from 1917, meant to get people interested in their “War Gardens” offers a wonderful peek back into the world of home gardening almost a century ago.

So what catalogs have you received and what seeds will you buy for the coming year?

Oh, Dear.

Sometimes we feed the birds. And then there are the four-legged birds. Bambi. Outside the kitchen window the other side of the snow-laden window box eating off the plywood platform we set on top of the birdbath to keep it from freezing. In the morning, there are nuthatches, chickadees, downy and hairy woodpeckers, gold finches, English sparrows, a fox sparrow, a pair of winter wrens, blue jays and cardinals.

Not all at once, but visiting sporadically as they make their way from the suet feeders, from the tall seed feeder next to the 60-foot spruces and then this platform feeder. In the afternoon, the deer come to finish off the seed. Later the field mice are no doubt out there and at dusk, the fox, coyote and raccoons dine on the slim pickings. How do YOU protect your plants from four-legged critters?

Winter Whites: What the Fashionable Squirrel is Sporting

My friend Jan lives several miles east in another suburb south of Chicago. While Olney, IL claims to be the White Squirrel Capitol, there is a small population of albino squirrels that enjoys hanging out in Jan's many oak trees. This fall, they were chowing down and storing acorns. Although their white fur makes them stand out like sore thumbs in summer, it's a great camouflage once the snow is on the ground.

There are four squirrel species in Illinois:

The fox squirrel, red squirrel, eastern gray squirrel and the southern flying squirrel.

The gray squirrel's fur typically is gray on the back and white to light gray on the belly. Melanistic (black) or albinistic (white) variants occur in Illinois. Black-furred gray squirrels are found in Fisher and Gibson City, IL, and albinistic individuals are common in Olney and in northeastern Illinois. Especially in Jan's backyard...

Paths of Desire

This is a wonderful book that would make a great gift for any gardener. Here’s my interview with Dominque Browning that ran in the Chicago Tribune a few years back.

Of paths, passions and ponderings

Dominique Browning follows the road less gardened to discover what really matters in her personal landscape

Into each garden, a little turmoil must fall. Disasters happen. There were turf-digging, grub-searching skunks. Marauding teenagers. Obstinate neighbors. Dying trees. And a collapsing retaining wall that eventually crushed a hefty perennial border. Dominique Browning has experienced them all in her garden in Westchester County, N.Y. , and carefully chronicles each in her new book, "Paths of Desire: Passions of a Suburban Gardener" (Scribner, 256 pages, $24).

She observes these mini-tragedies along with ethereal events -- hordes of fireflies ascending after a thunderstorm. Flickering candles casting shadows as birds settle in for the night. And, in the front yard, a small forest of sassafras with leaves that light up the autumn sky.

But this is not just an account of one woman's gardening joys and woes. It is a journey -- sometimes bittersweet -- that slowly reveals the importance of family and friends, lost love and renewal. "We get so caught up in the right plant, right place, we forget what it means to walk or sit in the garden. What do you discover? What is it about?" Browning asks.

Editor in chief of House & Garden magazine for nearly a decade, Browning is not your typical gardener. She keeps no logs of what's been planted where or what should be moved. She spends more time pondering than planting. She says she's hopeless with plant names and disorganized in the garden.

"Sitting and thinking are as valuable a sort of industriousness as kneeling and digging. No one needs to prove, yet again, that a garden is labor intensive," the 48-year-old Browning says. One of the pleasures of her job, she says, is the opportunity to snoop into other people's lives -- through their gardens, kitchens, dining rooms and living rooms and the objects they reveal.

But not long after Browning joined the magazine, her garden was snooped upon -- by someone curious about what she might bring to the magazine's content. The perpetrator slinked around back and discovered Browning's set of aluminum lawn chairs with plastic webbing (they cost 40 bucks at a yard sale and brought back fond childhood memories). The news was promptly blabbed at a hoity-toity dinner party, where it got back to her that the chairs were pronounced, well, tacky. Old. Cheap. A disgrace.

She shrugs it off with a laugh. "You can never say that one style is in good taste or not. Good taste has more to do with how things are put together. Tasteful is when there's unity. Things don't jar. It's interesting and comfortable," Browning says.

A serene place

Her house and garden, which is just shy of a half-acre, are an anomaly. The house sits on a street lined with neatly cropped lawns and tightly pruned shrubs. It's hard to spot, nestled behind the quarter-acre woodland filled with tall, thin sassafras, a thick understory of rhododendron, white-flowering azaleas and English ivy.

"She's left the front yard very wild. There's a beautiful feeling when the wind whistles through the trees," says Stephen Orr, special projects editor at House & Garden. "The main feeling you get is a sense of enclosure and serenity in a very pretty place."

The garden languished along, with Browning, in post-divorce flux, for several years. When the retaining wall finally crushed a row of frothy-flowered tree hydrangeas, Rose of Sharon bushes and perennials, Browning began the slow process of restoration and discovery -- of herself and the garden.

The New Back Bed, as she calls it, now features lavender, hollyhock, phlox, foxglove, mint ("Oh, the mistakes I made," she writes in the book), sedum and daisies. She crammed, moved, tended, lost, yanked and killed a variety of plants. "You can never know what will work until you try it. And there's a value to wandering around and contemplating" before acting, Browning says.
The side yard, called The Wandering Garden, was transformed as more than two dozen declining hemlocks were replaced with flowering shrubs, more evergreens, hostas, Solomon's seal and other wildflowers and a winding path.

In a far intimate corner, two Chinese bronze dragons with ferocious grins -- snapped up when Browning felt the "magnetic rays" of a local consignment shop calling her -- flank two comfortable wood chairs. Layers of viburnum, laurel and hydrangeas front tall evergreens nearby. "It's not fussy. I tend to be informal inside and out. It's a place to relax and think," Browning says.

Steppingstones and mulched trails meander through the yard. They are Desire Paths, as landscape designers sometimes call them, places that draw you along to someplace special.
Perhaps the best parts, Browning says, are the garden's scents, sounds and textures, deciding what to plant where and watching as the garden matures.

Sit a spell

Places to sit and reflect are abundant indoors (there's a couch in the kitchen where her sons prefer to dine a la coffee table) and outside (she dragged a chair around to different spots where she could leisurely muse over the placement of permanent benches, beds, borders and a little Buddha statue). Plastic jungle gyms, uncontrollable eyesores (courtesy of the aesthetically challenged neighbor and his dead Volkswagen bus), all are the stuff of suburbia, she says.

"It's a book I read with a pen in hand, ready to underline the telling phrases that I wished I had written," says Carolyn Ulrich, editor of Chicagoland Gardening magazine. "There are two types of garden books -- those that tell how to do things and those that tell us why we bother. I prefer the latter, which is why I took such pleasure in her book."

A self-proclaimed procrastinator who enjoys nothing more than considering all the possibilities, Browning finally brought in the Helpful Men -- electricians, masons, carpenters, a landscaper, plumbers. They fixed a badly crumbling asphalt driveway (only after she twisted her ankle on the way back from a fancy fete in gown and heels); the century-old concrete retaining wall (which collapsed as she stood before it one morning garbed in a nightgown with coffee cup in hand); and a variety of other calamities.

Browning's journey has taken some 15 years or so and was first revealed in an earlier book, "Around the House and in the Garden: A Memoir of Heartbreak, Healing and Home Improvement" (Scribner, 208 pages, $12).

About time

Contemplating instead of weeding or pruning has its benefits. Some time ago, Browning decided to compartmentalize her life -- work really hard at her job but make sure her weekends were free for family, writing, reading, playing the piano, puttering with perennials or just sitting and watching.

"I realized that my young son was talking to me one day, and I hadn't heard a thing he said. I was losing time with my kids. When I was at work, I was thinking about the kids. And when I was home, I was thinking about work. I was never where I'd need to be."

“What people can learn from her is not the practical or how-to, but an attitude," Ulrich says. "You learn that gardens take time, at least the ones you create yourself and are truly yours."

SNOOP PATROL: What’s on Dominique Browning's nightstand?

Like Dominique Browning, we, too, enjoy the part of our job that gives us entree (and poking-around rights) to people's homes and lives. We enjoy it so much that we have formed our own Snoop Patrol to peek inside medicine cabinets, in really private spaces or under dinnerware for makers and markings. We unveil our crew's first report with our findings from Browning's Westchester, N.Y., home.

1. One thing on your nightstand: A little teddy bear abandoned by one of my children. (It sits next to a stack of books including "Peter Pan," Marie Antoinette's biography and "Great Expectations.")

2. One thing on a living room wall: A sepia photograph of a pristine white bird by Jack Spencer.

3. Something in your house from your childhood: A couple of stuffed animals lying hopelessly somewhere.

4. Three condiments in your refrigerator: Mustard, mustard and horseradish. I love mustard.

5. Three things in your medicine cabinet: Perfumes -- Joy, Chanel No. 5 and Vacances, which means vacation.

6. Where do the dirty dishes go? I hardly ever use the dishwasher and I'm tidy -- I do the dishes right away.

7. Color of your living room sofa: A pale buttery yellow chintz with lilac and blue flowers.

8. Maker of your everyday dinnerware: Stangl.

9. Maker of your fine china: Royal Worcester collected in college (and much more). I have a china fetish.

10. What is the one "thing" you would opt to save from your house: My piano.

© Chicago Tribune and Nina A. Koziol