A Lovely Stroll

In our landscape design studio at the U of I, all aspiring horticulturists worked on the same property.  Fourteen drafting tables littered the room, each with a different landscape for the same property.  I loved walking around the room, comparing and contrasting ideas and marveling at the myriad options we cumulatively created.

As I toured the gardens of the 2011 Kankakee Kultivator's Garden walk, I was struck by the same concept.  Had you given me any of those yards, I probably would have come up with something completely different (and assuredly, more weedy) than the homeowners.

What a treat to see the fruits of their creativity and effort.  Each garden had lessons for me.  Let me share a few:

Dave and Becky Williams proved to me that I need to quit whining about my small yard.  For a dedicated gardener, size is no hindrance whatsoever; merely a different kind of challenge.  The passion they share for gardening shines clearly in their innovative vegetable garden.  In contrast, my vegetable garden is not so much a labor of love as a labor of necessity.  And it shows.  If I can pull a red tomato from a field of lamb's quarters, I declare success.  The Williams' garden, however, was nothing short of a retreat.  And believe me, when I look at my own, I'd dearly love to retreat to theirs.

Kathy Bessette's vast woodland landscape filled the shadows with color, texture and creativity.  Over the years, I've encountered many homeowners who are thoroughly flustered with similarly shady backyards.  The combination of tree roots and lack of sunshine provide enough deterrent to keep them from creating beauty.  Kathy was not easily offset.  Her powerful imagination envisioned the world of hosta and perennials residing beneath the shade and a good amount of determination brought it to life.  Where some may have seen limitations, she found possibilities.

As someone who is losing the battle to weeds (yes, I know it's only June) in her current vegetable garden, I have a great appreciation for the immaculate beds of David and Cheryl Bishert.  I love that they simply used grass clippings (naturally nitrogen-rich and notably free!) to mulch and keep interlopers at bay.  Large tomato cages were ready to handle our bulky Illinois growth, unlike the cheap tomato cages I employ, which are overgrown by the end of July.    

A small stroll from the Bishert's brought me to Rick Hoekstra's vineyard.  Lush grapevines abounded.  Here I discovered the easiest of all the take-home-messages: Mmmmmmmm.....Moscato!  I found a wine to enjoy when the work is done.

At this point, let me say that this particular day I had been mislead by the weather forecast (not uncommon for me this year).  I donned blue jeans in the morning, expecting a cooler day.  The resulting 89 degrees of heat and humidity did not agree with my denim.  Babysitting fees were racking up and so was my internal thermometer, and I thought very heavily about heading home after the vineyard.  I'm so glad I didn't.

My Favorite Flowering Trees

The blooming tree season is pretty well over, but the landscaping season is just getting into full swing.  Don't neglect these early season beauties when considering what to incorporate into your landscaping this summer.  Here are my four favorites.  If I had a bigger yard, I'd be cramming these in all over the place.

My sentimental favorite: Redbud.  I grew up with Redbuds.  Had one outside my bedroom window and one outside of my Grandma's kitchen window.  But you don't need to have warm, fuzzy memories attached to Cercis canadensis to fall in love with it.  It pops with blossoms that range from mauve to fuschia in spring.  It's post-bloom habit is airy and open with heart-shaped leaves that provide enough dappled shade (at maturity) to grow Hostas beneath.

My messy favorite: Magnolia.  A blooming Saucer Magnolia is akin to a Fannie May buttercream - so rich and delicious, you just can't get enough, but you know you'll pay for it later!  Saucer Mags are drenched in giant, silky blooms.  They are the Queens of the hardy Magnolia family.  However, what goes up must come down, and all those giant blossoms make quite a mess when they fall.  For me, a little bit of raking is well worth the show, but I would recommend siting the tree away from sidewalks and driveways to keep the mess out of traffic patterns.  After the blooms are cleaned up, you'll love sitting beneath the open arms of Magnolia soulangeana.  The habit is similar to a Redbud, but larger.

My risky favorite: Dogwood.  My heart goes pitter-patter when I see a Flowering Dogwood decked out with it's flat discs of petals set in horizontal lines, like a waiter with an armful of white plates.  The beautiful Cornus florida likes warm, moist environs and they tend to congregate in the south (can you blame them?).  Sadly, you and I live in Illinois - a land known for cold winters and dry summers.    To tip the cards in our favor, take some time to find the perfect location for your Dogwood.  Keys to consider: protection from the winter winds and a close proximity to a hose (for those droughty supplemental waterings).  Also, I recommend choosing one of the 'Cherokee' hybrids.  They're a hardier group and resistant to some common Dogwood pests.   Kousa Dogwood (Cornus kousa) is more tolerant of our conditions, and definitely worth considering.

My multi-season favorite: Serviceberry.  I have a Serviceberry.  But I wish I had three.  I think these small shrubby trees look even better when planted in groups.  I treasure all the seasons with my little gem.  In spring, Amelachier canadensis sprouts white blooms, followed by purplish-blue edible fruits (a big draw for birds).  An A+ in fall color makes Serviceberry the Valedictorian of its class.  The canadensis surname tips us off to a hardy ancestry that will keep our Serviceberries blooming after many a hard Illinois winter.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the reliable Crabapple.  I grew up with one in my front yard and I made many a 'crabapple pie' (the non-edible kind: think mud pie, but prettier).  The blooms swarm the whole crown in spring, creating a virtual cloud of flowers.  Personally, their post-flowering foliage and habit are not my favorite.  Just sort of blah for me.  Crabapples, however, win big awards for cold hardiness.  In Illinois, that HAS to count for something.  If you're looking for a crabapple, do your homework.  They are notoriously susceptible to disease, but breeding has created some excellent resistant varieties.

My Lost Love: Felco #2

Having a good pruner in the garden 

is akin to having a good knife in the kitchen.  

When I was a young college student, I splurged on a pair of Felco #2 pruners.  Ah, sweet snips!  They sliced through slender branches like butter and made quick work of overwintered grasses.  I loved wielding them on a plant, shaping my own giant bonsai (Think Edward Scissorhands x conservative Midwestern girl).  My only downfall was keeping track of them.  Any one else have this problem?  Maybe we could start a support group or a 10-step program:

"Hello.  My name is Mollie, and I lose my pruners."  

Case in point:  It's a beautiful spring day and I'm playing Mr. Miagi with the boxwoods.  Off in the distance, one of my offspring sounds the alarm.  After patching their boo-boo, it's lunch time and then one distraction after another until the sun has gone down.  


Buried beneath a pile of clippings, the pruners have slipped my mind.  


Any good detective would simply burrow down into the pile and find the missing snips.  But I can save those sleuths some time.  Some people have haunted houses.  I have a haunted landscape.  Long after midnight, the neighborhood garden gnomes move my precious pruners around - switching locations daily - until winter has come and gone.  But rest assured, those rusted blades will pop up with the Tulips.

With each successive loss, I graduated down on pruner quality.  Maybe it was the addition of 3 mouths to feed at the dinner table.  Tightening our belts, you know.  Maybe it was simply to discipline myself for the carelessness.  Most likely, it was to ease my conscience on the anticipated money-down-the-drain when the pruners pulled their next disappearing act.  As irony would have it, this last and consequently WORST pair of pruners hasn't gone AWOL.  The blades stick together, the recoil action is non-existent, and the locking mechanism sticks out and digs into my thumb with each snip.  BUT, there they are, in my drawer, every time I need them.


In spite of my poor pruner track record, I was asked to give a presention on design to the local garden club last fall. As a token of their appreciation, they gave me a gift certificate to the local nursery.  It's been burning a hole in my pocket since then, and I think the time has come to spend it.  Surely, I've learned my lesson by now, and even if I haven't... it's been too long since I last felt the grip of a Felco #2 in my hand.  Mrs. Miagi is back in action.