Planting Pickets

White picket fences.  Quaint, quintessential Americana.  Perhaps for this reason, my heart lodged on the concept of having one wrap around our yard.  So, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome constructed one for me (don’t worry, folks, I’m married to him).  Little did I know, that white picket fences are for the birds.  Literally.  What I thought we were building was a stylish boundary for my dog and a structure for vining plants.  What we actually built was a roost for cardinals, chickadees and mourning doves.  They made themselves right at home, and a comfortable bird poops.  A lot.  And so my lovely fence is perpetually in need of paint.  White fences that are longer than 100’ require a full-time painting crew.  By the time you’ve worked your magic on one end, the bird world has defaced the other.  It’s certain the pickets would look better if I removed the bird feeder, but believe it or not, we'd miss those little poopers.

Inspired by Tom Sawyer, I included "Paint the Fence" in a challenge I issue to the kids each summer.  There are yummy AND fun prizes, so I figured it would be a win/win situation for everyone involved.  The few attempts that were made resulted in several spottily painted pickets and extra brushes for me to clean (#46723 on my list of fun things to do).  Mark Twain made this seem so much simpler.

One solution for a splotchy fence is to apply some horticultural camouflage to it.  Some girls have a shoe fetish.  I have a vine fetish, and it comes in handy with my bird doo-doo dilemma.  Their twiny, tropical nature transfixes my mind.  At Sunrise Nursery this spring, I fought the urge to clear out the inventory in their vine aisle.  Currently, our fence is enveloped in Sweet Autumn Clematis, Pink Lemonade Honeysuckle, an unidentified Climbing Rose and Green beans.  But I’ve got plans for expansion.  Here’s a few on my wish list:

Akebia foliage

Five-Leaf Akebia (Akebia quinata) is a home-run vine.  I love the lacy visual texture of the compound leaves but the piece de resistance are the burgundy-lilac flowers, which hang in clusters with dramatically reflexed petals, emitting a fragrance of…..Hersheys.  Mmmm.  Chocolate flowers?  Don’t mind if I do.  As if that wasn’t enough to sell this climber, the seed pods contain a sweet, edible pulp that tastes like tapioca pudding.  I have yet to sample the pulp personally, but I am a fan of tapioca.  I made an entire batch disappear in the process of writing last week’s column.  So yes, I will have an Akebia.  It’s just a matter of time.  

Arctic Beauty Kiwi (Actinidia kolomikta) is the perfect compliment to my lackadaisical painting.  The leaves are tipped in white and pink, giving the impression they’ve been dipped in a bucket of paint.  So if I do paint, no one will notice if I get some on the leaves.  And if I procrastinate painting, it will look as if I at least tried recently, since the leaves are freshly decorated.  But this plant has more to offer than colorful foliage.  Dr. Skirvin, one of my favorite Illini professors, introduced me to the fruit of the Hardy Kiwi vine.  No peeling fuzzy skin off of these: just pop ‘em in your mouth.  Delicious!  The plants do require a male and female plant to produce fruit, so I’ll be sure to get both when the requisite garden space opens up. 

Clematis beauty

I feel a bit sheepish about putting Clematis on my list.  What self-respecting Illinois horticulturist does not already have Clematis in their garden?  This one.  I'm not talking about the Sweet autumn Clematis which is already rambling prolifically here, but the ever popular, large-flowering type.  The big dilemma is which variety to plant first.  Jackmanii is overused, but seeing it in bloom melts away all my objections.  Who cares if every Tom, Dick and Harry has one?  I want one too!  Those luscious blooms transplant my mind to a distant tropical island (complete with a fruity drink and the aforementioned fence-builder).  Whatever hybrid I choose, I plan on interplanting it with another species of vine.  Clematis are slow starters: with the exception of Sweet Autumn, they need several years to develop a 'presence'.  Additionally, they're a one season performer and they like their roots shaded and their blooms in the sun.  Interplanting would answer all of those issues very nicely. 

These are just the top three of my vine wish list.  Climbing Hydrangea, Passionflower, Dutchman’s Pipe Vine, Trumpet Creeper and Wisteria are all in my gardening future.  Hopefully, Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome is taking notes for his 2013 Mother's Day shopping list.  

Dear John Letter to a Clematis

Dear Clem,

It seems like just yesterday when I caught my first glimpse of your bloom.  So billowy and romantic, like a cloud of white butterflies, engulfing the arbor with beauty.  You had me at hello. Who else blooms like that in autumn?  What other clematis could compare to your abundance?  None.  I knew I had to make you mine.   

And so, the wait began; the years of pining and planning.  I don't regret those years, Clem.  They made me who I am today.  You were worth the wait.  The day finally came, and I brought you home.  The bed was dug, the fence built, the arbor painted.  I had it all planned out: how you would climb the strings and swallow my arbor up in blossoms, sunning yourself each summer, teasing me with the promise of a bower of beauty come fall.  And it was all so good in the beginning.  I bragged about you and sang your praises to any visitors willing to stroll the garden.  I even took pictures of you with my family.

But you've strayed, Clem.  You haven't remained true to the commitment we once shared.  I caught you behind the air-conditioner, climbing up the side of the house.  Mingling with cable lines, going where you ought not.  Why would you go there, Clem?  It's shady there, not the kind of neighborhood for a clean-cut vine such as yourself.  I thought you wanted sun.  I gave you all the sun you could ask for.  But it wasn't enough.  I'll always love you, Clem, but this just isn't working anymore.

Sincerely,

Mollie

Do you have any love/hate relationships in your garden?  I confess, I don't have the heart to rip Clem (Sweet Autumn Clematis - Clematis ternifolia) out completely, but every fall I'm in the doghouse with my husband for this Vine Gone Wrong, as it strings up our cable lines.  I have to drag out the big ladder and rip and destroy its clamp on the wires.  So why not just make a clean break?  I don't know.  I think it's the promise of those ridiculous blooms in fall.  Like a box of Junior Mints: I know they're no good for me, but I just can't help myself.  Take care that you don't get caught up in Sweet Autumn Clematis' irresistible snare.