Ooooo, the blog is getting a little too deep and self-consciously artsy.

Who said something about art being either plagiarism or genius?  In the horticulture trade, one of the first things a gardener learns is to borrow and adapt what others do. A good gardener  gives proper credit when told, “That is a nice plant combination.”  So, John Teramoto, Marty Krause, Annette Schlagenhauff (am I forgetting anyone?) – thank you for the exhibit Lay of the Land.

The exhibit combining Asian and Western art prints and poetry, set me to thinking about how often images in the galleries, or music and poetry cause me to recall some beautiful place I’ve experienced.  Nice memories and feelings …. trying to capture the bliss of the moment.

So as Autumn brings another season to a close, I offer some images and poems, with apologies to the artists,  that reminded this gardener of the promise and beauty of Spring as compensation for labors…

Work
The corn is baking in blue smoke,
Pickled tomato is piled ready on my plate,
And the chrysocolla of a young cedar branch is close.
Yet the breakfast that should be calm and enjoyable
makes me uneasy.
I’m worried about the manure I threw yesterday
From the horsecart and left on the slope.
Kenji Miyazawa 1896-1933

Manure and compost on vegetable garden at Oldfields

“Peasants Going to Work, by Jean F. Millet (IMA 40.65)”

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Ah. It is spring,
Great spring it is now.
Great, great spring.
Ah, great –
Matsuo Basho 1644-1694

Apple blossom in April 2009, Gene and Rosemary Tanner Orchard, Oldfields at the IMA. Photograph by Sue Arnold

Check out the IMA’s searchable database of the art collection any time.

Check out the flowers, and maybe some leftover
manure,  dawn to dusk on our 152 acres, or right where you live.

Uh-oh, somebody left the blog-o-graph in the Division of Environmental and Historic Preservation unsecured! Well, I am done cleaning Irvin’s and Geoff’s garden trowels so let’s see how this thing works…

I don’t usually make my bed, but if I did I know I’d have to sleep in it. That’s kind of what happened when the rain garden project here at the IMA came along. Not to get too mired in details, but when a preliminary plan for this type of garden at another site on the property became unworkable, Chad Franer, Horticulture Manager, asked the staff for suggestions for another location. Before I could slap my hand over my mouth, the words had already dribbled down my stubbly chin and onto the table: “annual border.”

For those of you unfamiliar with the designations for sub-areas around the campus, this is a garden bed running along the northeastern edge of the greenhouse parking lot which has traditionally been planted with annual and tropical plants. Make that “was”. After a single season of being under my complete control, I had just suggested eliminating a parking lot paradise in favor of a utilitarian system for dealing with storm water. I looked over at Irvin, one of my inspirations for all things shiny and sparkly, and thought I saw his eyelids narrow and his lips mouth the words “you will PAY for this!” Actually, I wouldn’t -because somebody else was going to pick up part of the tab! Still, I knew I would have to face the accusations of betrayal by the Chanteuse of Chartreuse. As quickly as the thoughts congealed in my head, I babbled on and on to Mr. Etienne about how I would transform the beds along the fence in front of the greenhouse into the “new” annual border, complete with bold foliage, contrasting textures, and a riotous rainbow of color.

A reasonable compromise I thought, especially since it was already spring and the plants I ordered in the winter for the annual border would be arriving soon anyway. Disastrous wrath averted, I slinked back to my office to begin pondering the radical changes in store for this particular square footage. Honestly? At first I was intimidated by the prospect of designing from scratch a functional landscape feature of which I only had a rudimentary knowledge. I didn’t feel very passionate about it at the time either. Nonetheless, I set about researching these types of installations, drawing inspiration from a variety of sources. Thanks to the many other professionals involved, certain characteristics of this purpose-built landform were determined for me (Go Engineers!).

Beyond that, I (and my superiors) just wanted it to be aesthetically pleasing. This was accomplished (I hope) by sticking to the “right plant, right place” philosophy which requires matching plant tolerances with environmental conditions. Simply put, in lower elevations of the garden plants have to be amenable to occasional inundation as well as periodic dry spells. Mostly, native species made the cut, along with their cultivars and a few exotics (non-invasive ones).

How will it all work out? Only time will tell. Let’s just ignore the huge downpour which washed out a seven-foot section of the berm on the back side of the garden less than a month after it was constructed and planted (I can easily do that – I was on vacation that week!) On a final note, I would like to thank all the staff, volunteers, and outside organizations whose efforts helped make the new IMA rain garden possible. I hope y’all take pride of ownership in it. Hey, what’s this feeling coming over me? I love what we’ve created!

Image from slantmouth.com

But I won’t whore myself. When accepting payment it must be clear that it is no guarantee of a favorable review at a later date. Not every thing is as great as the marketing would suggest. Shocking. Of course human nature makes me giddy with excitement over many of these new and exciting and best-ever-introduced plants. It’s variegated? I’m smitten. It’s chartreuse? I’m falling in love. It’s orange? I’m shopping for a ring. It’s all of those? I’m booking the wedding hall and registering at Target. The result of placing my chlorophyll in such a vulnerable spot is that some times my little horticultural heart gets broke – “I was sure this was the one that would bloom forever (sob, sob)”. But I know the pain will ease and soon I will be lusting and loving anew. Ah, the life of a plant slut.

Sometimes a plant isn’t so much sexy as practical. I think many natives fall in this category.I wouldn’t call Tiarella sexy. Pretty? Maybe. A hard worker? For sure. These woodland plants bloom in spring usually with new selections continuing until as late as July. Flowers are usually white with a pink blush but some are a rue light pink. They have very good foliage all season. I’m now trialing five new cultivars of running Tiarella cordifolia, foam flower from Plants Nouveau. Tiarella tends to be either a clumper or a runner. Runners can make better groundcovers because they spread by sending out runners, small plants on the end of horizontal shoots. These are all native to eastern Pennsylvania and named after five rivers in that region. Here are pictures of two.

'Delaware' (Plants Nouveau)

'Susquehana' (Plants Nouveau)

We will have to see if they like Indiana as well. I don’t think there will be a problem as we grow plenty of Tiarella already.

Some natives on the other hand are sexy. The Silphiums in all their big, bold, bodacious beauty are a fine example. Another example would be Tiarella’s somewhat slutty cousin Heucherella, a hybrid resulting from a one-night stand between a Tiarella and a Heuchera (coralbell). Heucherella is sometimes called foamy bells (foam flower x coralbell). The result is plants with flowers generally larger than Tiarella blossoms but smaller than Heuchera blossoms. Some have dark pink flowers. Now all the fantastic colors of Heuchera foliage is being introduced to these plants. Terra Nova has some hot ones right now. I am very interested in trialing some of these as well (my wish list is growing daily and gets sent next week). Jimmy Turner – I can’t help it, I have to call him by both names – Director of Horticulture Research at the Dallas Arboretum, likes them so I know they can handle heat and humidity. My favorite is probably ‘Golden Zebra’ though ‘Sweet Tea’ makes my blood boil a little too.

‘Golden Zebra’ (Terra Nova)

‘Sweet Tea’ (Terra Nova)

So many plants, so many vendors. Such is the life of a plant slut. Now, who had that chartreuse-leaved daylily with delphinium-blue flowers?

Irvin Etienne, Aesthetic Czar, whose garden trowel I am not worthy to clean, is away this week.  He said something about a professional conference in St Louis, but I hear Dolly Parton is performing in Branson, so I’m not sure…

Anyway, he left me keys to the blog-o-graph and said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

More and more this season, I have been enraptured with wonder at what nature does.  For the blog’s title, I turned to Jens Jensen, one of the great evangelists for the church of mother earth.   In the first chapter of Siftings (1939) he said that the “[natural world] about us has within it all the joy and happiness that we need.”  Amen.  As much as my life is enriched by the amazing work I see in our galleries, more nourishing for my soul is the beauty and humility of plants.  I want to offer three little samples.

Symbiosis.  A pea does not spring full grown, drenched in butter, from the head  of the Jolly Green Giant.  It is the product of co-operation with a bacteria Rhizobium leguminosarum.  Nitrogen is the most limiting nutrient for crop growth, it is not readily available in the soil.  Nitrogen is 78% of the air around us, but can you grab some to get your plants to grow lushly?  I didn’t think so.  A slender vine leaps from the earth, makes beautiful flowers, and delicious sweet peas – because it forms little nodules on its roots to shelter the bacteria.  As the bacteria goes happily about the business of life, it pulls this invisible gas nitrogen out of the air and provides it for the pea plant’s nutritional needs.  Does the iPhone have an app for that?

Effortlessly graceful patterns. The harmonious flow of line is a goal of design from cups to clothes to cars (well, okay, not for every designer and artist).   But how would humans know what beautiful pattern is if not for nature’s originals?  I love the swirl and arc of maturing sunflower seeds in arrays that cannot quite be predicted (in the IMA orchard, photo “Sunnyside up” by “whisperingwolf1” on Flickr)

If miraculous productiveness and original design are not enough to draw you into the church of nature surely the silky white color and heady perfume of the lilies that line the aisle between our new apple trees will convert you (thanks again to “whisperingwolf1”).