More Rose Parade

Hybrid Tea Roses

Double Delight lives up to the name. Wonderful fragrance and incredible color. Instead of fading in sunlight like most roses, DD gets darker. This one is covered in rain drops from an afternoon shower.

Day Breaker, pink with yellow accents. Long lasting blooms both in a vase and on the bush. I've seen Day Breaker used as a hedge--breath taking.

Another Double Delight. Every bloom is different, they become more red as they are exposed to sunlight longer.

Heirloom, an oldie. Very, very fragrant and more lavender than the photo shows.

Mr. Lincoln, another oldie. One of the top reds, very fragrant.

Tiffany, another super fragrant rose. Large pink blooms with a golden heart. A prolific bloomer.

A Tiffany closeup.

Peace. Fragrant, beautiful.

An old photo of Peace bloom. The colors have faded to a cream and pale pink and yellow. Stunningly beautiful in every stage of bloom.

Another old photo. Chicago Peace--a perfect rose.

Coming soon, the shrub rose parade.

Tomatoes

Decided to take a break from roses for a while and talk about something else near and dear to my heart.

The photo is from Burpee's website featuring their catalog covers over the years. Their hand painted pictures are beautiful. Makes you want to run out and order a couple packs right now;)

This morning before leaving for work I stopped to check my tomatoes. They are just not doing well this year. Late frosts and heavy rains delayed planting this spring. The entire month of May and the first half of June were unseasonably cool. The tomatoes grew very little. Now, almost the first of July, it's finally getting hot and humid and they are just starting to put on growth.

This year I planted two each of Cherokee Purple (my favorite), Black Krim, Brandywine, and Sweet Million, and one each of Big Boy, Better Boy, Early Girl, and Beefsteak. If you have never tried Cherokee Purple or Black Krim you are missing a great tomato experience:)

I love to have friends over and serve a variety of tomatoes, fresh baked bread, and maybe some cheeses. It's fun to compare the different flavors of the heirloom tomatoes. We have tomato taste tests at work. We try the different heirlooms and hybrids and pick our favorites. I'd love to hear from tomato lovers. What's your favorite tomato? Have you had success or failures with the heirloom varieties?

There are some great stories to go along with some of the old heirlooms. One story goes like this: Radiator repairman Charley Byles (who knew nothing about tomatoes) managed to cross several varieties and create an outstanding plant. Radiator Charlie sold the first seedlings of his new tomato in the 1940's for one dollar each to customers who drove up to 200 miles for his famous plants that bore tasty tomatoes averaging two and a half pounds. With these sales, Charlie managed to pay off his $6,000 mortgage in only six years, and so the tomato was named Mortgage Lifter.

If you garden in a cold zone like mine, you know that the tomato season is very short. This year it looks like it will be a whole lot shorter. Very depressing.

Everybody have a great weekend!

"What is a weed? A weed is a plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered." -- Emerson

More Parade of Roses

I went through a period of obsession with roses and collected quite a few. I love the bloom, the fragrance and the romance. It started with some antique roses. Next several of the Canadian roses and rugosas hybrids were added. Then came hybrid teas. When the English roses were developed, I had to have several of them too.

Roses are a lot more work than many perennials. It's difficult to grow them well without chemicals. You have to really love them to spend the extra time involved in caring for them.

This post is for my old garden roses. Most of these roses bloom a little earlier than my hybrid teas. They are also tougher. Not so disease prone.

First my favorite Paul Neyron is an old hybrid perpetual. This rose produces huge blooms 6 or 7 inches across. A fat pink cabbage of a rose with lovely fragrance and a thorn free bush. Paul blooms off and on all summer. He can be a little temperamental, but I'm happy to give him whatever he wants .

Grus an Aachen is small. Both the bush and blooms are petite. A very pretty little rose for the front of the garden. Grus is another repeat bloomer with a nice fragrance.

This is an old once blooming rose whose name I've forgotten. Lovely fragrance pretty cup shaped blooms.

Another of Grus an Aachen. Early in the season it has more pink. Later the blooms fade to almost white.

Reines de Violettes (Queen of Violets) another hybrid perpetual that repeats through the summer. Flowers not as large as Paul Neyron, but there are many more blooms per bush.
Nice fragrance, no thorns.

Thanks for looking at my rose parade. Hybrid tea photos coming in a few days.

The Parade of Roses

Leading the parade we have the antique Rose de Rescht

Next the lovely French rose Peace with it's message of world peace and hope.

Double Delight very nearly perect.

A beautiful Buck rose Honeysweet.

Saving the best for last, my favorite Buck rose Golden Unicorn.

More rose parade coming soon.

Simple Pleasures

A sunny window
A soft quilt
Contentment

Breathing in the frangrance of perfect

Breathing in the fragrance of perfect.

Last night I woke to a lovely fragrance filling the bedroom. The Japanese Tree Lilac outside my window was in full bloom and the damp night air carried the wonderful scent into the house. A scent completely unlike the common lilac, but very pleasant, sweet and smoky.

I can't imagine why Syringa reticulata is such and underused tree. Smallish, very well behaved and manageable. The flowers are a delight. Big, billowy puffs of creamy white. Far showier than its cousin the common purple lilac.

My mistake was planting a white blooming tree in front of a white house. Still, I'm not sorry when the wonderful fragrance drifts into my room and wakes me. (When the purple lilacs bloom it is far too chilly to have windows open at night.)

I lay there in bed last night and thought about planting one outside every window;~) .
(Thank you Joshua Pilger for the phrase I used as a title.)

Country Things

Moss on the roof, vines covering the wooden siding. The only creatures using the old barn are swallows. The windows are gone. Old harness hangs on a peg, left long ago when the horse teams were replaced by a tractor.
















One of my favorite Robert Frost poems:

The Need Of Being Versed In Country Things

THE house had gone to bring again
To the midnight sky a sunset glow.
Now the chimney was all of the house that stood,
Like a pistil after the petals go

The barn opposed across the way,
That would have joined the house in flame
Had it been the will of the wind, was left
To bear forsaken the place's name.

No more it opened with all one end
For teams that came by the stony road
To drum on the floor with scurrying hoofs
And brush the mow with the summer load.

The birds that came to it through the air
At broken windows flew out and in,
Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh
From too much dwelling on what has been.

Yet for them the lilac renewed its leaf,
And the aged elm, though touched with fire;
And the dry pump flung up an awkward arm;
And the fence post carried a strand of wire.

For them there was really nothing sad.
But though they rejoiced in the nest they kept,
One had to be versed in country things
Not to believe the phoebes wept

Advise from Julie Andrews

Remember in Sound of Music when the thunderstorm was crashing around the castle and everyone was singing My Favorite Things? I love that movie. Anyway, last night as the thunderstorms crashed around my not-a-castle, I was processing photos (I know, dumb to be using the computer in a storm). I had taken several photos of roses covered in rain from an earlier storm so that song just popped into my head and would not stop.


Photos of Distant Drums (my second favorite Dr. Griffith Buck rose) and Toby.

Raindrops on roses...



















...and whiskers on kittens.
















These are a few of my favorite things.

Seeing things through new eyes

As I've gotten more interested in photography, I find myself seeing things differently, or maybe more clearly. I've always appreciated the beauty of a sunset, the intricate patterns of clouds, and the changing light at dusk and dawn. Now I spend more time studying these things. Composing photographs in my mind even if the camera isn't there. I notice tiny drops of dew on delicate flower petals. Mentally I wonder how best to capture the prisms of reflected light. I look at things from different angles viewing the changes in shadows and light and deciding which will give the best contrast. Reflections in pools of water have become treasures to be marveled at.

I'm always looking up. Looking for colors and shapes. Seeking beams of light shining like spotlights through clouds.


(Photos: The sun sets at the end of my road as I arrive home from work. Ominous clouds roil above the pasture.)

No matter what a realist I consider myself, it’s hard not to let the mind wander to fae things when I see a lovely stand of foxglove.

Foxgloves are deeply steeped in folk lore. Some say the origin of the name is folks gloves (folks referring to faeries or magical creatures). Nordic legend has the faeries teaching the fox to ring the fox bells as a warning when hunters approach.

To cut or damage them is to bring bad luck, but to plant them around the door yard will keep the faeries from stealing your children.

WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

...Yeats

Give us pleasure in the flowers to-day

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.

...Robert Frost

Above Shirley Temple peony.

Left unknown silvery-blue clematis.

Below Goldfinch on a thistle sock.











Tiny splashes of sunlight flying about the garden.


They seem to prefer this sock to any other of the thistle feeders I've tried.

Peonies

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart as the sun rises.


(I love that line from Mary Oliver's poem--more below.)




This week the peonies finally make their long awaited appearance. They usually bloom about two weeks earlier just after Memorial Day.

They are so very welcome whenever they choose to bloom.


Last year I added two Shirley Temples to my collection. Most are older varieties. They were planted on the farm before I moved here.
I love the huge doubles, the ones packed with so many petals you can't find the centers. The ones that smell so cloyingly sweet they scent a room when you bring them inside.

The heavy rain and high winds were wreaking so much havoc on the blooms, I cut most of them to enjoy inside. My house is full and so is the office.

Festiva Maxima above white with the red highlights is one of my all time favorites. The dark pink is an old unknown variety. The white below is probably Festiva also.

This fall perhaps I'll research some early bloomers and add them. It would be nice to extend the season a little longer.


I added this yellow iris to mix in some color. I'm not sure of the cultivar, maybe Pure and Simple. It's a stunner with the sun-bright yellow and the graceful ruffles.

















Peonies by Mary Oliver

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

What's blooming today and a really good book

Hopefully today's blooms will still be standing after last night's storms. It never fails, when the peonies and iris bloom, we always get rain, hail and high winds. Those huge, heavy flowers fill up with water and topple over onto the mud.



I've had this yellow iris for years. One of my favorites.




Below: A photo from some time ago. These tough little columbines will grow anywhere. They have such a delicate bloom but they are tough, drought tolerant very cold hardy.




























Here are a few iris that survived the rain and wind.

A lucky accident that the iris just happen to blend so well with the chives.




This weekend I'm rereading Virginia Lanier's first book Death in Bloodhound Red. If you are a mystery reader and/or a dog lover, you will want to read this wonderful series. Lanier's character, Jo Beth Sidden, is a professional dog trainer who contracts with local law enforcement to search out people lost in the near by Okefenokee Swamp. Her search and rescue missions are usually harrowing. Avoiding quicksand, poisonous snakes, and her murderous ex-husband Bubba are among the challenges she and her dogs face. You will also learn a lot you never knew about tracking with dogs. Sadly, Virginia Lanier passed away a few years ago so her novels are all the more precious because there will never be any more.

What's interesting in the garden today

On these damp, still evenings my yard is filled with the scent of pagoda dogwood. Not quite like lilac but a similar sweet, heavy fragrance.

No peonies yet but the buds are swelling and showing some color.

The salvia is looking good. I have several hybirds, this one is May Night. It's a great plant, blooms all summer and drought tolerant. The dead heading is what I don't like. Tedious. If it's not deadheaded it won't continue to flower so all summer I'm snipping the spires.

This photo shows two viburnam planted side by side with flowering branches entertwined. Unusual because they don't always bloom at the same time. This season bloom times are behind schedule because of the cold temperatures in April and May.










This is supposed to be TB Iris Gnus Flash. It isn't even close. Mislabeled packaging. Up close it isn't my favorite--washed out colors and contrasts. Seen from across the lawn it's more appealing. A splash of interesting color in front of the black iris Superstition. Last evenings rain and wind knocked Superstition completely to the ground. That's the downside of the really tall varieties.







My yellow iris is just starting to bloom. It's a great color so I'll put some photos on soon.

Wilding

Left is my wilding pal Toby.

According to some interesting books I’ve been reading, many of the common weeds found in my yard have more nutrition than the vegetables you buy. For example dandelions are a great dietary source of calcium, vitamins A, and K, plus the antioxidant lutein.

Purslane happens to have more Omega-3 fatty acid than any other plant plus lots of vitamin C and other stuff.

Early settlers and Indians made use of wild edibles in season and dried them for winter use. In the past 60 years or so, we have stopped harvesting wild greens. Now we rely on things we buy. You’re probably thinking, who wants to eat something growing in the lawn? I look at it this way. Unless I put herbicides or fertilizers on the lawn, these greens should be safer than fruits and vegetables imported from who knows what foreign places with who knows what standards of hygiene. Plus, I know fruit and vegetable farmers put every known pesticide available on their crops.

Anyway, since I have more dandelions and various weeds than grass, why not turn that to my advantage.

There are a lot of books and internet sites with lots of recipes. I decided not to follow any of the recipes but to just use weeds in the foods I already prepare. First I threw a big handful of mixed weeds into a vat of homemade vegetable soup. No difference in the taste, but it felt good knowing the extra nutrients were in there.

I made up a salad with my garden lettuce plus garlic mustard, lambs quarters, and purslane. Added some feta cheese, dried cranberries, pecan pieces, baked chicken pieces and raspberry vinaigrette. I have to admit, I couldn’t taste the wild stuff but that was OK because the vitamins, minerals and omega 3 where there.

I plan to try adding some to meatloaf, soups, vegetables, omelets, and salads. Using them on sandwiches and hamburgers instead of or with lettuce. Throwing some in cake mixes or pancake batter. I might toss some in with the apples or rhubarb in a pie. I don’t think you’d notice a taste, but the foods would be just a little better for you.

Sunday evening I went wilding. Picked, rinsed and stored my stuff in the fridge for later meals. I picked a bunch of wild mint too. Rinsed it and added it to the water in ice cube trays. It will be good in iced tea and lemonade.

I'd love to hear about your wilding experience and stories. A lot of people in my area love hunting morels and wild asparagus. I'm a little afraid of the mushrooms but hope to go out with some experienced friends and learn which ones are safe and which are not.

While doing some reading on harvesting wild plants, I remembered a wonderful novel I read a long time ago. Where the Lilies Bloom by Bill and Vera Cleaver. Think I'll look for my old copy and reread it.

Important: I have to say this to anyone who might try wilding. Don’t eat anything unless you are sure it’s safe. Check out books and internet sites with photos and descriptions of edible plants. Be sure no one has sprayed chemicals on the greens you pick.

Best ever pie

Absolutely the best pie. Use fresh or frozen rhubarb stalks.

AMANA RHUBARB CUSTARD PIE

8 INCH BAKED PIE SHELL

FOR CUSTARD:

1/4 c. sugar
2 tbsp. cornstarch
1 c. milk
2 egg yolks

FOR RHUBARB SAUCE:

3 c. rhubarb, cut 1/2 inch
2/3 c. sugar
2 tbsp. water

FOR MERINGUE:

3 egg whites
1/4 tsp. cream of tartar
6 tbsp. sugar

Stir together sugar and cornstarch in small saucepan. Stir in milk and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens and boils. Beat egg yolks slightly and stir a small amount of hot milk mixture into yolks, then stir that mixture back into pan. Cook and stir until custard is thickened and smooth. Cover custard to keep warm. Toss rhubarb with sugar in small pan. Add water and cook over very low heat just until rhubarb is tender-crisp - don't let it get soft. Cover sauce.

For Meringue: Beat egg whites and cream of tartar until foamy. Beat in sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time; continue beating until stiff and glossy. Do not underbeat. Drain rhubarb sauce and fold into custard. Turn warm custard into baked pie shell. Heap meringue onto filling; spread over filling, carefully sealing meringue to edge of crust. Bake in preheated 400 degree oven 10 minutes or until a delicate brown. Cool away from draft. If not served immediately, store pie in refrigerator.

Views around the farm and garden

I began this blog to share photos, ideas and thoughts. The quality of the photos is very disappointing. I suppose Blogger compresses them to limit the space required, but it is disheartening to publish good pictures and have them displayed poorly. Anyway, trust me, these were pretty scenes when I shot them.

Above, one of the new hybrid columbines.
Unfortunately, this one isn't reseeding in my garden.



Tall bearded iris Immortality. It’s slightly fragrant--an important bonus. In my garden it’s the first TB iris to bloom and it repeats later in the fall. I like iris because they are iron tough, drought tolerant and require almost no maintenance. Immortality increases quickly so I try to give it plenty of room and avoid dividing as long as possible. I’ve always thought iris look as lovely and fragile as any orchid. In fact, I'd much rather have these beauties than a hot house full of orchids and tropical blooms.




Below is Viburnum Opus, commonly called a snow ball bush. Sometimes people confuse this with hydrangea Annabelle which blooms later in the summer. I'm glad I took some photos when I did. That evening heavy rains and strong winds beat it down pretty badly. Guess I'll cut the blooms and take them into the office tomorrow.

Scenes from a stormy day

Saturday was dark and cool. Late in the night we had high winds with thunder and lightening. Thankfully, no tornadoes.


In the photo, a tiny wren stalks spiders among the logs.






Below a catbird calling into the coming storm.

He mimics the things he likes from other bird's songs and adds his own ‘mew’ here and there.

He keeps his prayer under his tongue.
In his whole life he has never missed the rising of the sun.
He dislikes snow.
But a few raisins give him the greatest delight.
He sits in the forelock of the lilac, or he struts
in its shadow. …Mary Oliver

Ivan the glamorous farm dog

From birth, Ivan’s career path was to be a show dog. He belonged to a professional breeder and spent his life being bathed, groomed and hauled from one dog show to the next.

His career ended when the puppies he sired were better show dogs than their father. The owner decided to sell Ivan to have room to keep several of his pups.

I wanted another dog. I already had a little tri collie named Heather, and hoped to find another collie just as lovely. Since I worked so many hours, a puppy wasn’t going to be my best choice. An older, settled dog that didn’t require so much attention would be perfect. Ivan and I were on a collision course. I had a home that needed another dog. Ivan was a dog needing a home. We were both in the right place at the right time.

The adjustment period was hard for both of us. Who knew dogs that spent their lives in kennels couldn’t move in a straight line? Really. My farm dogs run free when I’m outside. There are no roads near my place so it is perfectly safe. On the second or third day I let the new Ivan off the leash to run with Heather. Ivan ran around in circles. Small circles to start, after a while the circles got a little bigger. I wondered if he had a brain tumor.

He also had a thing about fencing. Apparently he was used to bouncing on and off his chain link kennel fence. No chain link on the farm, but there was a lot of high tensile horse fence. The first few times Ivan’s circles intersected with this tightly strung wire he did a somersault and ended up on his back. I wondered if he was blind and had a brain tumor.

Walks with Ivan were entertaining and a little troubling. Heather would bounce down the pathway, nose to ground checking for scents. Ivan trotted in overlapping circles that progressed roundabout (more or less) down the path behind her.

Ivan’s story turns out well. He learned to run in straight lines, he started watching out for wire fence, he got interested in the scents of deer and raccoon. He still won’t wade across the creek or walk in a muddy field. I think he’s happy now even though his life is less than glamorous.

If you would like to give a dog a forever home (as they say in the rescue business) consider a collie form a rescue group. Collie Rescue of IL