Autumn is still killing it.
From left to right:
Acer rubrum ‘October Glory’ (Red Maple)
Miscanthus purpurascens (Flame Grass)
Betula nigra (River Birch)
Category Archives: Tree
The first thing I wanted to add to our blank slate of a landscape 19 years ago was a wind break. I don’t recall my logic or if there was actually wind to “break” but I’d convinced myself it was a necessity. So we added five white pine trees (roughly 6 feet in height) along the northwestern facing part of our yard.
Oversharing alert: I know these were added at the end of March that year because I have clear memory of limping through the front yard to check out my new trees. Why was I limping? Because I’d had a vasectomy the day prior. There is something poetic about the dichotomy of a vasectomy and the planting of new trees, right? And yes, that’s the first time a vasectomy has been dubbed “poetic”.
Moving on.
Here are those trees today, all near forty feet in height and tightly packed together.
And you know what? They really do block the wind.
Go me.
I will not talk about the weather.
I will not talk about the weather.
I will not talk about the weather.
I will not talk about the weather.
I will not talk about the weather.
I will not talk about the weather.
Liking the lichen
With the cool and damp weather we’ve so thoroughly enjoyed these past few months weeks, it’s become a breeding ground for that harmless mold so lovingly known as lichen. I don’t mind it and kind of dig it so I don’t bother treating it at all.
Flowers
I’ll take what I can get.
Leucojum aestivum (Summer Snowflake)
Hey bud-dy
Anticipation is everything to me.
Although as I mentioned last week, I can’t wait for the scent of these flowers to pull me out of the cold weather doldrums.
Viburnum carlesii
They continue to multiply year after year. Not too unlike the grays on my head.
Daffodils
The bee balm is everywhere. That’s okay. I’m on it. Fear not.
Allium
Year two for a tulip? My awesomeness knows no bounds.
Parrot tulip
Branching out
A glimmer of hope.
Serviceberry
Diervilla ‘Cool Splash’
Hydrangea ‘Lady in Red’
Welcome back
I still get pumped up when they reveal themselves.
Trollius ‘Golden Queen’
Ligularia ‘Britt Marie Crawford’
A better option
Fool me once, blah blah blah. I can’t seem to grow Sambucus ‘Lemony Lace’ in the garden so I’m going to nurture her in a container.
We’ll see.
I have plans to do the same with additional shrubs. My design eye will be put to the test.
Sambucus ‘Lemony Lace’
I will never give you gardening advice on this blog.
Never have, never will.
There are plenty of other places online and in killer books to find great info from experts all across the globe.
What I’ve enjoyed presenting here for the past 6 years is a peek into my own garden and what I’m doing, be it educational or smart or as you’ve witnessed many times before, just plain dumb.
I’ve also enjoyed sharing the emotions that come with hardcore gardening because yes, gardening is an emotional undertaking. There is anger when big plans fall apart over the winter. There is frustration when there is no answer as to why that stupid perennial still won’t bloom after three years in the ground. There is elation on those days when it all seems to come together. There is indifference when you get tired and start to question whether or not it is all worth it.
And all of those emotions occur within the same day.
I’ve also taken to sharing the evolution of not only the garden as a whole, but also that of specific plants. When I can, I like to capture plants in their infancy and then document their growth in subsequent years. I also enjoy sharing a plant’s ever changing look and feel from season to season. With that info in hand, it helps when deciding whether or not to purchase said plant and how it fits into your overarching garden vision.
I needed to dispense that background info before getting to the point of today’s post. Because all of that ties into what I’m about to show you.
A week or two ago my wife and I were enjoying one of our typical romantic soirees; both on our devices on separate couches while the kids watched Family Feud and the dog jumped from couch to couch trying to determine which was more comfortable and which adopted parent would offer up more attention (P.S. My wife wins every time).
After one of the many Steve Harvey “survey says?”, my wife handed me her iPad to show me a blog she had been reading. The couple and their young children were picking apples from a tree while skipping and smiling and enjoying life to the fullest. A f’n Hallmark moment. The intention was for me to see that the apple tree was producing 4 different fruits on one tree. She had never seen that before and admittedly, neither had this so-called expert gardener.
I handed the iPad back to my wife with the intention of then researching this fascinating apple tree to see if it was legitimate. But I couldn’t shake the photo. Yes, I realized it was a staged pic and the kids more than likely were fooled into giving a shit for their mom’s sake, but it still grabbed my attention for two reasons:
1)How did my own children get so old (10 and 13) so fast and were they already beyond the age of wanting to really hang with us? Could we legitimately pull off this type of scene ourselves? How much longer do we actually have in our current home knowing we’d like to move south in the future because we both hate the cold with a passion. Maybe 12-13 years? How does that factor into what I still plant here knowing our rough timeline?
2)Why haven’t I tried growing an apple tree before?
I know, you probably think this is a convenient set-up for what is to follow but I swear on all that is holy that this is exactly how it played out in my head.
That night I went on to the Stark Brothers website determined to purchase an apple tree or two. I still had time to nurse these trees to the point of giving fruit before Jack headed off to college. Poorly draining clay soil be damned, I’ll figure it our some how.
Within ten minutes I had purchased three trees:
Red Rome Beauty Apple (as a pollinator for the Honeycrisp)
4 on 1 Antique Apple (yes, similar to what we had seen in that blog post referenced above)
Time was of the essence and I could not deal with the regret of not having at least tried to grow apple trees. Too spontaneous? One could argue that, but I got caught up in the moment and allowed the nostalgic wave to get the best of me.
So last weekend, the three bare root trees were planted. It was a bit cold (in the upper 40’s) and windy and real wet but I feared not getting these in the ground soon enough. After some careful planning for like 3 minutes, I knew where I wanted them.
Out came 3′ in diameter sections of the lawn and in went my 3-4′ sticks of joy.
Those trees are further apart than they look and the trees are all dwarf, expected to reach about 8-10′ in size. I’m not that incompetent.
After digging the holes and planting, I tried my best to ignore the reminders of how wet the soil stays with our high water table.
Too late, I’m all in. And determined to make this work. I even mapped out a plan to massively expand an existing garden bed off of my deck that would include two of the apple trees and a nearby River Birch. I’m thinking a small seating area with some large pots since I don’t want to mess with the roots of the three trees.
So there you have it.
Another opportunity to share a plant’s origin with you from the outset and we can all watch them grow up together and hopefully bear fruit some day. That, or we can laugh at my not-well-thought-out attempt at an orchard.
Either way, you the reader wins.
My emotions got the best of me here but I’m glad that they did. This should be fun and frustrating and scary and annoying …
I take my lemons very seriously.
Is that weird? Actually, allow me to be more specific and less weird.
I take the lemons produced from my Meyer Lemon tree very seriously.
Not so weird, right?
Need proof of this lemon allegiance? Check this out from a few years ago:
Truth is, we haven’t harvested a lemon since that day … but that is about to change … in a big way.
Last year I received a ton of great feedback from readers (thank you!) and from a dude I met on an awesome local gardening radio show I’ve been lucky to frequent over the years. Here is a consolidated list of those tips (all pertain to winter indoor care):
- Before bringing indoors, place tree in partial shade outdoors for 2 weeks and then another 2 weeks in the attached unheated garage.
- Spritz the leaves with water every other day to up the humidity.
- When watering, use warm water.
- Place the lemon tree on top of a warming mat.
- Keep the tree away from window/door drafts. I close the curtain to my back sliding door whenever possible as a wind barrier.
- When in bloom, use a Q-tip and just poke it into the flowers.
- Fertilize even if it is the winter.
Now some of these tips may be debatable or unnecessary (based on online research I’ve meticulously conducted) but I cannot complain about the results this year. Currently, I have ten lemons on my tree, including this just-about-to-ripen-monstrosity.
I’ve never seen a lemon this big as it roughly the size of a grapefruit. Now I just pray that it tastes as good as it looks.
Some other current day fruit.
And the first set of buds just emerged within the last week.
Color me giddy with excitement.
Back to that first mother of a lemon I just showed you. I am thinking we will pull it off the tree within the next week. And it is clearly big enough to easily split into four decent sized wedges.
With that in mind, I am challenging my family to come up with a creative use for their quarter of a lemon. I have my plan mapped out already and spoiler alert, it involves sun screen and the PennEast pipeline. The rest of the family is now on the clock.
I’ll be sure to dedicate a post to each of our upcoming lemon plans and challenge each of you to get creative with your own lemons.
Is that weird? Who cares, do it already and let me know what you did in the comments.
What I’ve discovered over the past ten years or so is that there are very few evergreen trees/shrubs that thrive/survive with poor draining soil and deer as frequent visitors. One of the exceptions to date for me (fingers crossed) has been Juniper ‘Wichita Blue’.
From all that I’ve read over the years, this tree is intolerant of wet soil but I have had no issues to date (3 years and counting). And I am happy to report that the deer have not as much nibbled a branch. So far so awesome.
So while I hope and pray that this tree continues to stay alive for me, I will continue to enjoy the fantastic blue green needle color.
And use that blue color and texture as a foil to my other trees/shrubs/perennials/shrubs in my mixed garden beds.
Not to mention the enjoyment of having some actual color in winter.
… beyond ornamental grass brown (I’m copyrighting that Crayola).
Some additional information on Juniper Wichita Blue, commonly known as Rocky Mountain Juniper:
- Mature height from 10′ to 15′
- Mature width of 4′ to 6′
- Zones 3 – 7
- Full sun preferred
- Prefers dry and sandy soil (of which I have no concept)
- Native to the Rocky Mountains and other mountainous areas in the U.S. and Canada
I have four relatively smaller versions of these in my landscape to date and would make the financial commitment to more but I still want to let things play out and see how these dudes respond.
I crave that blue color but I’ve found other options are way more expensive, especially any of significance size. I’ve seen lot of criticism with Juniper ‘Wichita Blue’ and it being so “common” and a favorite of the big box stores but I’m not one of those people … yet. I’m riding this one out for now.
Hopefully they all make it out of this winter OK. They seem to be taking a beating out there.
More to come.
There have to be close to 40 blooms on my Meyer Lemon tree right now.
And a bunch more on the way.
I always anticipate quite a bit of leaf drop after bringing the tree indoors each fall, but this year I made it a point to allow the tree to slowly adjust to its new surroundings.
We went from full sun to partial sun outdoors for two weeks in September.
Then we stayed in the unheated garage for a two weeks once the temps dipped severely in October.
Then we made our way inside into a south facing window with supplemental light through the use of a grow light.
This new plan of a phased adjustment to a life indoors has worked with very little leaf drop along the way. However, within the last week or so we are seeing a lot of this …
After some panicky research online, I decided to head in the fertilizing direction because I know I haven’t over watered the Meyer Lemon and saturated the roots. It must need some food.
So we did a feeding.
And started a program of misting the leaves in early afternoon on sunny days (Thanks Twitter friends).
I added a tray of pebbly water nearby to up the humidity.
I’ve even quickly removed a sucker forming below the graft line because I’m a serious mofo with this Meyer Lemon tree care now.
We’ll see how this all pans out over the next few weeks. To date, I’ve only had one lemon with so many other tiny forming lemons falling off at some point.
So my question for you all – is there anything else I can do to up the chances of keeping the lemons on the tree?
Grats.
Over the past ten years, I’m fairly certain that I have killed more evergreen trees/shrubs than I have managed to keep alive. As much as I love the ornamental grass, I still desire the evergreen and its place in the landscape, especially during the barren winter.
The problem I’ve found is that there appears to be limited choices when it comes to evergreens that can handle my conditions. And when I say “conditions”, I really mean the deer and the waterlogged soil. They are the problem. I cannot be held responsible for any of the losses; I would never be so irresponsible as to plant an acid loving shrub in my alkaline soil. That would just be stupid.
So each year I try to introduce new evergreen options into my garden because one can only plant so many boxwoods and not get bored off his ass. They serve their purpose as consistent greenery, but we all know they leave a lot to be desired. A strange side note: Contrary to most, I like the boxwood scent. Strange, eh?
Because I’m an incredibly smart and well thought out individual, I only purchase new evergreen plants that are small in size as a means to protect the pocketbook. I can rebound if a $15 plant fails to thrive but will be in therapy if I kill a $100 substantially sized version.
Which brings me to a recent introduction to my garden. Fall of 2013 to be exact. I purchased a one gallon sized Juniper ‘Gold Cone’ on a whim as I was pulled in by the gold coloration … and the 50% off price tag.
Juniperus communis ‘Gold Cone’ is an (eventual) columnar, needled evergreen that matures to an approximate height of 7′ to 10′ and a width of 2′ in ten years. I have it on good source that it puts on 3″ to 6″ of new growth each spring. And that growth is a fantastic gold color.
This shrub survives in zones 5-7, prefers full sun and apparently tolerates most soils (we’ll see how much it digs the wet clay). There are claims on many web pages that Juniper ‘Gold Cone’ is deer resistant, but I’ll be the final judge of that.
So while it’s only been a little more than a year and by all means too early to pass judgment, I can report that it has thrived and the deer have left it alone.
I even went ahead and purchased a second one a few weeks later.
As advertised, this shrub retains its gold color throughout spring and summer.
And did take on a blue hue as the temps dropped in the fall.
Settling in at what I’ll call a brownish blue all winter.
While conducting my research for this tale, I came across a great blog post about Juniper ‘Gold Cone’ and how it looks at full maturity and how best to ‘spiral tie” it so the shaded brown needles are not exposed. You can read all about it here.
I would love to hear your feedback if you have had any experience with this shrub.
Thanks as always.
John
Five or so years ago my wife gave me a Meyer Lemon tree for Christmas. I still vividly remember the chilly December evening when the four of us were enjoying dinner out and the kids were all giggly and whispering and daring me to guess what Mommy got me for Christmas. I eventually coaxed it out of them and we agreed I would plant it later the next day, a week or two before December 25th. That night was one of those randomly awesome family times when the stars are aligned and you want time to freeze so the kids don’t age another day. Those nights mean more to me than any holiday or vacation.
Since that time, the tree has been brought indoors each autumn where it pouts and drops a bunch of leaves only to rebound when it makes its way back outdoors the following spring. I would get plenty of fragrant flowers along the way, but never an actual lemon …
… until late last summer, when I finally discovered an actual lemon hanging precariously off of a bare branch:
The tree itself had seen better days, but the little lemon was enough to keep me inspired heading into the winter:
Once the tree made its way inside the house, I placed it in its usual southern exposure in my kitchen:
Except now that we had an actual fruit present, it was time to get serious. I had a family counting on me to provide for them. If this fruit were to not come to … fruition … I may never gain back their faith in me. These are the times when real men step up and deliver. So I purchased a grow light and fertilized the tree for the first time while it was indoors. Soon enough, the lemon started to mature:
And new growth appeared all over the tree:
My only fear now, was that the lemon would fall off of the tiny branch and we would be screwed.
But this was a special lemon and she wasn’t going to be denied. By the time we hit May/June, the lemon looked like a … lemon … and I knew we were in the clear:
Now the challenge was all about how to actually enjoy it. It had to be special and ceremonious and we needed to do it right.
Last week I pulled the lemon off of the tree, ready to force a decision upon ourselves as to how it would be consumed. Do we all get a quarter of it and simply eat it? I was game but no one else was on board. Do we use it in a cocktail? Not a bad idea but then the kids would feel left out. Maybe we each take our 1/4 lemon and do whatever the hell we want to with it? Still no definitive direction.
This past Saturday was my son’s 12th birthday. We were having some family over and decided on serving lobster rolls, one of his personal favorites. I wasn’t thinking about that Meyer lemon sitting in the fruit bowl in the kitchen at all until I stepped out the front door and saw this:
My son was chilling, drinking a lemon soda and I commented on how much he loves all things lemon flavored. BOOM, it all came into focus. This was the day our special lemon would be devoured.
True story, my wife craved and was obsessed with citrus when she was pregnant with my son. Lemonade, lemon ice, lime cookies and orange juice were all a part of her daily diet. And no lie, from the day he was born and could eat regular foods, my son loved everything lemon flavored. There has to be a connection here.
I ran back into the house and consulted with my wife. We had the plan in place. Out came the lemon and we cut it in half:
Looking good.
One quarter or so was eaten by yours truly (delicious by the way) and the rest was squeezed into a pot:
The lemon juice would be flavoring the butter that would be flavoring the …
Lobsters!
The lobster rolls were a huge hit and the best I’ve ever had. That friggin lemon juice made all the difference in the world. Our special fruit used for a special kid on his special day. Quick, call Hallmark, I’m getting all mushy and crap.
Happy birthday big guy, never change. We love you.
If we never get another lemon off of that tree, it still did its job.
… stare at said lemon for hours on end, shocked you could even produce one of these on a tropical tree in your colder climate. Or something like that.
Weather still sucks here in case you were wondering. The only way to even think about checking out the garden is via hovercraft and mine is in the shop.
So I’ll have to entertain myself by ogling the lone Meyer lemon that is on the tree right now.
Well that and the last remaining bloom on the tree as well.
OK and also the new growth that has emerged all over the tree.
Did I mention how wonderful it is outside?
Yes, that is lawn and not the Delaware River.
I did eventually find a way to get out in the garden without being swept away just to enjoy the bulbs that have started to put on growth at a nice pace.
The daffodils.
And the crocuses.
Even more exciting, is the promise of Viburnum blooms in the near future.
It is coming slowly, but at least we are trending in the right direction.