Treasured garden plants are struggling to recover from last summer's massive Japanese beetle invasion, and the past winter's severity. My poor Harry Lauder's Walking Stick tree had a long think before finally putting out some leaves: he's still licking his wounds. Removing meager catkins will help him to focus on budding out, but alas, some lovely branches are bare and brittle, signifying death. I'm hopeful that with fertilizer, copious drinks and dormant oil spray judiciously applied, he'll survive. Meanwhile, I'll simply enjoy his nakedness. Que sera, sera ...
The English ivy took a beating, as well. Ivy's tough to kill, but the lovely vine climbing the huge tulip tree is showing signs of stress. Leaves, pale and exhausted, fall forlornly to the ground, exposing bare, thick, whiskery "cables" firmly embracing the big trunk. Under those withered, "liver-spotted" leaves fresh buds are poised, waiting for enough consistent warmth to green up. I think it will revive ...
The formerly vigorous mile-a-minute vine (Polygonum aubertii), which has always smothered the long arbor leading into the main garden, showed no trace of life anywhere. So I designed it out. Now the arbor is shingled, windowed and gently decorated with ancient finials. I like it better. I might add two tiny window boxes there -- just because. "Poly" still blankets the sun-drenched alley fence, requiring constant trims to keep it in bounds. Happily, the contented alley roses, surrounded by a fat necklace of lamb's ears, are going mad; they'll produce a great show this summer.
My tiny evergreen scene, just inside the main garden, has sighed and died, too. Out went the yellowed dwarf pine and three gasping "bowling ball" shrubs, and in went a nice little fieldstone patio, with a bench from which to survey the garden. (That tricky corner's driven me nuts for years.) This new arrangement seems exactly right. I'm delighted at how often visitors choose to pause there to contemplate the sights and scents of summer.
The silly, sex-mad ornamental onions look lovely this year, but it's time to divide, before they conquer the garden again.
Huh. There's an intricate spiderweb in my steel spiderweb; that arachnid has style. Raindrops glisten on sturdy gossamer strands; clearly the real architect is much more talented.
I popped over to Hannah Park for a stroll today. The swollen Boardman River burbled cheerfully along, accommodating bobbing ducks who quacked and fussed over their plumage. One annoyed female near me waddled off in a funk, distaining her hopeful, beautifully dressed suitor.
A large, shaggy brown flop-eared mongrel lay upside down in the warm grass with his sun-drunk owner, long tongue dangling as he enjoyed a blissful belly scratch. Now and then his low groans of delight mingled with bird songs and distant sirens ...
Two fat-tailed black squirrels rocketed dizzily up and down tree trunks, making me laugh as I, padding along in the deliciously scented air, practiced the fine, difficult art of living for the moment.
Dee Blair's Sunnybank Gardens are at 325 Sixth St. in Traverse City. Visit her Web site, www.deeblair.com for more information. Find more of her columns online at record-eagle.com/deeblair.
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