Time for the annuals

   On Sunday, I finally felt it was safe to plant the begonias and impatiens.  I usually wait until May 22nd to plant, assuming the next week looks free of frost.  So, on Saturday I spent three hours preparing all the planting beds, turning over the soil (that had an inch of compost added) and working in some slow-release fertilizer.
   I plant 21 flats of annuals, and I completed all but two on Sunday.  Most go into beds, but I also have about 50 hanging baskets and containers.  In the beds, I can plant about five flats an hour, four at the minimum.  That might sound fast, but that has been my rate for the last thirty years.  I have a very intense feeling when planting, driving me to be as fast as I can, probably because I know that a thousand plants is a lot of work.  Most of my annuals are begonias, with only two flats of impatiens.  I used to plant more impatiens, but the downy mildew fungus hit here about five years ago, devastating the flowers by mid-August.  Last year I did not see evidence of it, so I am trying a couple of flats to see what happens.
   The photos show the planting in the patio area.  The empty trays show the work of Sunday.  The last photos show the same location last year.  With luck, it won't freeze, leading to similar results.

Snow!! Freeze warning!!

   Yes, it snowed today--mainly snow pellets.  It never got above 43 degrees, and tonight it will freeze.  Oh, well, it could be worse.  On May 10th, 1990, I woke up, looked out the window--and my jaw dropped.  Nine inches of unexpected wet, heavy snow!  As the leaves were out, I lost eight trees. 

   A couple of weeks ago, the Mertensia virginica (Virginia bluebells) were in full bloom. 
   So was the Bergenia cordifolia (Saxifraga or Pig squeak), and it still is.  I do not show much of the leaves, as they are quite tattered from the winter.  I see this plant in Europe far more than in the US.
   The last photos are of a plant whose name I lost.  If anyone knows it, please let me know.  It has very tiny, tightly packed leaves that grow in a mat.  It flowers for a couple of weeks in May.
   The level area just to its right is Vinca Minor (Periwinkle), a viney groundcover.

Tweaking the Sunken Garden

   The Sunken Garden is a small garden just south of the garage, about 50 feet by 25 feet.  It is about four feet lower than the narrow, level area extending from the garage.  From the front of the garage, five steps descend to the garden.
   The garden gets very little light in summer, and less and less each year.  In the 1970s, the area was mainly lawn.  As the trees grew larger, I had hostas in it.  In the 1980s, I planted two Euonymus alatus (Winged Euonymus, but incorrectly called Burning Bush) and one E. europaeus (European Euonymus).  By the early 1990s, even hostas failed.  I next planted pachysandra, which never did well, either (except for the raised terraces on the east end).  Finally, Lamiastrum galeobdolon (Yellow Archangel), a sure-fire deep-shade plant, failed as well.  So, about six years ago I started a moss garden on the far southern part.  Later, I started introducing Thalictrum dioicum (early Meadow Rue), which is doing fine.  It will take a couple of years before it fills in completely.
   Yesterday, I added three large log sections of a green ash tree I cut down recently (not because of the borer, incidentally) covering it with the moss Anomodon attenuatus.  I covered the moss with quarter-inch plastic mesh to aid in the attachment of the moss to the wood, which should take two to three months.  The bark already had moss growing on it, mainly Hygroamblystegium varium.

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Adding some alpine plants in the cactus garden

   Finally, after five years having only cacti and succulents in the small garden just off the front lawn, today I planted some alpine plants in sort of a rock garden.  I needed better drainage, so I went to a gravel pit and got a load of torpedo sand (a coarser sand).
   The rocks in the mounds with cacti and succulents nestled inside came from Marathon County in central Wisconsin from a farmer's rock pile.  They are all well-weathered, and most have lichens growing on them (a lichen is a combination of an alga and a fungi).
   I like very fine-textured plants with small, dainty leaves, so I went to Flower Factory, the largest perennial nursery in the state, about 60 miles west of here, to buy the plants.  I got Arenaria "Wallowa Mountains," Bolax glebaria 'nana,' Arenaria tetraquetra, Delosperma 'Reznicek,' Dianthus simulans, Silene acaulis 'Francis,' Draba incerta, Saxifraga 'Coer de There,' and Thymus serpyllum 'Album."  (If you come for a visit, there will be an ID test--just saying.)
   The steer's skull I found in Montana while pheasant hunting.  The two pieces of wood were a nice gift from Larry Jackel at the Denver Botanic Garden.  I asked him for an eight-foot Ponderosa Pine several hundred years old (I had my pickup truck along when I visited there in early April.)  He declined my request--and gave me the nice wood instead.  I think it adds a lot to the scheme.
   The six red rocks are Entrada sandstone that I picked up in Utah on the same trip west in April.  Utah is my favorite state, visiting there eight times.  However, in our humid conditions, these rocks will disintegrate eventually, as the moisture weakens the cement holding the sand grains together.

An artist deserving of recognition

   My uncle, Chester Nowak (pronounced Novak), my mother's brother, was an amateur artist.  He attended the prestigious Layton School of Art in Milwaukee in the 1940s following his service in WWII.  I recently viewed dozens of his works, and two stood out as Japanese in style.  I had a camera store scan them and make prints on canvas-like paper.  As with Vincent Van Gogh, his works now will receive their dutiful recognition.  I am displaying them in my azuyama, or viewing house, in my Japanese-style garden.
   This morning, from 6:15 until 6:45, the paintings were highlighted by the morning sun.  The intense morning light, with long shadows, was absolutely exhilarating.  Uncle Chester would have been most pleased.
   I built the azumaya all by myself two years ago.  The walls are made of stucco.  I will never build another, even in my next life.  But, I am glad I did build this one.