Memory Garden I

Do you have a memory garden? I thought everyone did.

People wax poetic about the sources of their plants and flowers and I suppose it is my turn. As I was replanting a 12-year-old pothos (received when she started college) with my oldest child over the weekend (and as I cajoled her into taking a few more plants with her - bluebonnets, althea, and day lilies) I began to think about people who have shared plants (voluntarily and involuntarily) with me. So I decided to do a little walk around the yard and share some stories.

But first I must start at the beginning. My parents had a big yard and created flowerbeds of joy and sorrow. I still see or smell perennials that take me home again. Daddy grew sweet peas on the back hurricane fencing. They would bloom with abandon and we would cut them all summer long. (We usually put them in a white glass vase that Mom said Daddy gave her filled with flowers when I was born.) He also planted zinnias and calendula. And then there was the time he grew dishrag gourds. (1) [We were supposed to gently lift the vines when mowing (woe be to the child who mowed over the vines --->ME).] For a time Daddy shared a vegetable garden with the neighbor across the alley (she provided the land, he provided everything else), eventually moving it into the back yard after she poisoned an area of her yard too close to the garden (He tilled up a huge chunk of the yard where we played tag and pitched pup-tents and placed it under cultivation).

Mother planted Louisiana iris, gerbera daises, amaryllis, oxalis, ferns, bottle brush, laurel, vinca, elaeagnus, trumpet vine and, in later years, a profusion of wildflowers - Queen Ann's lace, thistle, basket flower, gaillardia, and Indian paintbrushes (there are more, but you get the idea. I am sure my siblings will comment with more plants that stayed with them, but were not my favorites.).

Louisiana iris

The yard began with shade from native mesquite trees, but hurricane Celia made short work of them (we sawed fallen trees for days.) and the parents replaced them with live oaks. They also had pecans, redbuds, a wild olive, banana trees, and a date palm.


Most of the plants mentioned above were loved or at least tolerated. Even the nasty-thorned mesquite (with it's huge painful wood ants) provided great climbing for years. The one "plant from hell"  in my memory was the dreaded pyracantha (2) or fire thorn. This horror grew on a fence between our house and Miss Judy's (our much loved next-door neighbor). Pyracantha had to be trimmed. And those trimmings had to be hauled to the alley. And this plant, while beautiful when blooming and fruiting, is a mass of thorns. I hated it. I hate it still. And it mocks me when I drive through central Texas - a showy plant on fences everywhere. It seems many people were enamored of its beauty. They probably found out too late that it is, in fact, the devil. Even today the fence contains reminders - pieces of the pyracantha branches that enveloped the chain-link.

So, we worked in the yard. We planted and grew things. We picked and shared. My baby brother summed up our relationship with plants, "This joys me up!"

We all still grow things. My sister is in the coldest part of the state. We sometimes share plants, but the difference in climate often shows. My just younger brother and I trade plants often. My baby brother still plants the home place where his family now lives. Though they have downsized the flowerbeds somewhat, they still enjoy the shade of the oak trees.

Come with me to see a few things in my garden...


Northern althea:

My oldest child lived just north of Manhattan for a few years before she returned to the state of her birth. Her landlady was a special grandmotherly woman named Louise. Louise lived on the bottom floor of a wonderful house build by her husband. OC lived with a roommate on the second floor. The third floor was occupied by a doctor. The garden of the home was quite marvelous.

I arrived in August of 2010 to help OC pack for her move. Taking a break from cardboard boxes and markers to tour the garden, I developed a plan to smuggle cuttings back to Texas. Any woody "shrub" was fair game and I took some 30 or more cuttings of the altheas and the fig trees. Initially some 5 or 10 altheas rooted as did two of the fig cuttings. But then our erratic weather killed a most of these brave "foreign" plants. Three of the altheas have survived for 4 years. They are all the same type - single white bloom with a burgundy center. This is one of the plants.

Louise's althea

Louise's althea blooming

Yarrow:

The owner of a fabulous local mansion (3) shared plants with a friend and me about 20 years ago.  This is the white blooming yarrow he allowed us to dig up (even has he shamed me for my "dull" sharp shooter - "It is supposed to be a SHARP shooter!"). The yarrow has been moved a couple of times and still grows vigorously. I have tried to add other yarrow (pink and yellow blooming) to this flower bed, but this is the only one that will grow there.

Curtis Mansion yarrow

My first althea:

When we moved to this house almost 25 years ago, I planted a hedge of alternating variegated pittosporum and red tip photinia along the front sidewalk. We are on a busy street and we had three small children. I wanted the plants to be a reminder to the children that they were getting close to the street (For years we didn't let the children play in the front or side yards, but games of tag can get "out of hand"). Eventually the shrubs would grow to form a hedge. (4) A good many years ago a friend (5) asked me to help her trim her althea bushes. I think she had a broken arm or something, so she needed help. She had about 5 plants trimmed to a small tree shape in her back yard and they had grown to the point they were scraping against the facia. They are all gone now (but I gave her a small one to plant near her pet cemetery). I took cuttings from the altheas and discovered that 8 of 10 cuttings rooted (thus began my love affair with propagation of altheas). I have shared many shrubs that originated with these cuttings and have planted four on the yard side of the hedge, one in the flower bed by the driveway, and one along the fence in the backyard. They are one of the few plants that will bloom throughout our hot summers. (6) 

Cathy's altheas

 

Double pink blooming althea (cutting swiped on a walk around SW's old neighborhood 60 miles south of here)

IRIS:

There are too many iris stories!

I have planted iris from many sources. I have been seduced by the pictures of iris on the bags sold at local discount and home supply stores.

Our pale lavender blooming iris were given to me by my friend BC. The rhizomes (a gift from parents of one of our coworkers) sat in a box in her garage for two years. BC gave them to me and I planted them in 1990 as "garden therapy" when my mother was ill. Digging and planting helped me feel better when I was not on hospital duty. Mom got better and the iris bloomed like crazy after two years of establishing their root systems.

These are the only ones pictured that have bloomed so far this year. They came from my friend BC. The others, who knows?

I have stolen iris from abandoned properties, from roadside ditches, and some that moved beyond fences or into the street. I have rescued iris ahead of bulldozers (from Mrs. G from across the street). I believe a few iris came back with us from cemeteries during the boy's Eagle project (he was appalled, but I explained that iris need to be lifted and divided every 3 to 5 years). I have purchased a few iris, but they don't seem to grow as well as the gifted plants (or the stolen ones). And I have my eye on some out in the country near a fence - and that's all I am going to say about that, for now.

Recently a rural road was being widened - threatening a huge iris bed of a bordering property owner. This lovely woman VE shared iris (and bluebonnets - see below) with BC and me. I am potting these for future planting  - some for me, some to share with friends. I won't know what we have until they bloom.

Some iris have come from BC's old house where an iris hybridizer once lived and left an incredible legacy of flowers.

While planting earlier this week I wondered about a particularly lovely deep purple iris given to me by our beloved friend Aunt Joanie W. It came from her house 20 miles from here and was planted in the side yard before the trees created so much shade. There in the spot where I planted it some 20+ years ago was a big purple bloom. It makes me smile to see this flower and think of Joan - how special she was to us.

Aunt Joan's iris (it is more purple than this, but this is the color the camera took.)

Wildflowers:

I usually have no luck with wildflowers. But as I mentioned above, VE gave us iris ahead of the asphalt truck. Then she mentioned some bluebonnets and took me to their location. I potted 4 and they have bloomed and are putting out seed pods (and something has started eating the leaves - snails? pill bugs?

VE's bluebonnets

Redbuds:

I have had pretty poor luck with redbud trees. I planted two from "the store" in my yard. They died after a year or two. Then we planted a couple of purchased trees at the elementary school. They made it quite a long time. I thought they were gone, but there are some small saplings coming up in one spot.

I have had a couple of trees transplanted from a friends yard growing. One is in the side yard near the drive. Another grew huge and then succumbed to bugs and disease. We managed to cut it down before it took-out the cable.

BC's redbud with its heart-shaped leaves

Gardeners - who do you trust?

When we moved here we discovered two of the long-time residents of our town had amazing gardens. After a year or two I learned which garden to trust. Mrs. G lived across the street and had amazing iris, schoolhouse lilies, bur oaks (planted by her son), a large (half the block) pecan orchard, and loads of Texas native plants. (6) Mrs. R. (7) grew things that don't grow here. I couldn't figure it out. She had tulips and peonies and things I saw in no other yard. Finally someone let me in on the secret, Mrs. R had a number of gardeners and she would change her flower beds with the seasons. Things grew there until they didn't and were swapped for something else.

The Episcopal Church once (15 or 20 years ago) had a thrift store downtown with a wide variety of stuff for sale. I purchased a box of oxalis bulbs attributed to Mrs. R's garden and they have grown in my yard ever since.

Mrs. R's oxalis

Co-workers:

My co-worker for years shared a "hen and chicks" succulent with me. It sometimes thrives, but was damaged last year by some insects seeking moisture. I plan to re-pot them and see if I can do better by them.

MG's hen and chicks

Another co-worker has a husband who can grow anything. He regularly rescued the half-dead plants at the garden centers. He gave us ferns that do continue to grow in spite of freezes and ill treatment.

Each year I think a hard freeze has eliminated this fern and then it slowly comes back

Schoolhouse lilies

Schoolhouse lilies (also known as hurricane lilies, oxblood lilies and Berry lilies - after my sister's landlady some years ago who grew them and shared) are seen in old gardens. This often causes their erroneous reputation as a Texas native. They are non-natives. They arrived in Texas from the Andes in the 1800s. They are wonderful bulbs with a rather "stealth" bloom. Related to the amaryllis forced around Christmas, this small bloom lasts only a few days. The plant blooms in late August/early September when school starts, hence the name schoolhouse lily. They bloom after the first fall rain - often from a hurricane in this state. They are the color of oxblood.

I have had a number of sources of these bulbs. Some came from across the street when the new neighbor swapped me bulbs (at least a thousand) for some fig preserves. I believe I got the better part of that deal and I shared bulbs with teachers, Army wives, family members, old friends, coworkers,  and heaven knows who else. I sometimes receive notes letting me know the lilies are blooming. I planted some at my work and at a park in town, but have not seen those bloom. I hope to be surprised one day by a flash of red when I pass by.

Stolen schoolhouse lily bulbs

Schoolhouse lilies

Aspidistra:

My grandmother and mother both had pecan trees surrounded by aspidistra (cast iron plant). My friend SW was removing a bed full of the plant and gave me a container of rhizomes.  I planted them around the pecan in the side yard. They grow thick there, providing shelter for all kinds of creatures. I often find beautiful spiderwebs among the leaves and spied this lizard not long ago.

Anole on the aspidistra around one of the pecan trees

Mallow:

My brother and I regularly swap plants. He gave me a mallow (cousin to the althea) that continues to bloom each year. There is not enough sun for it to grow beyond this small plant, but it has been propagated a few times. I still don't seem to have a good spot to allow it to perform really well. I love that this plant persists year after year.

Mallow

(1) http://www.backwoodshome.com/articles2/yeager85.html

(2) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyracantha

I found a quote from A Terrible Thing, a short story by Shelly Singer, "A thorny pyracantha, trimmed to humility, pressed against the fence." I love that - trimmed to humility.

(3) http://www.stoppingpoints.com/texas/sights.cgi?marker=The+Curtis+Mansion&cnty=bell

(4) We planted all the shrubs, but one before we saw the box that said "Call before you dig." So, we stopped planting and called. The next day we came home to find the phone company marked the buried line. There was a shrub and an orange flag, a shrub and then a flag - all the way down the hedge. The only place that was not marked was where we planned to plant the final shrub. The neighbors got a kick out of it. We left the plants alone, fearing we would do more damage by removing them.

(5) We met at church. She would watch my two legged children and I would care for her 4 legged ones. I also caught over 20 rats at her house when she was infested (they were just after the dog food), but could not manage the traps. I am ruthless. She became rat-less.

(6) Mrs. G's house sold a few years ago. It was on a block by itself. The new owner subdivided the block and built 5 houses on it - bulldozing one flowerbed and cutting down most of the pecan trees. No one could save the pecans, but I have it on good authority that many of the rhizomes and bulbs were rescued (some in the dead of night - with a dull sharpshooter). The rescue was such that the provenance of many iris will remain a mystery. Each bloom is a surprise.

(7) Mrs. R. was a true southern lady. She had a lovely lilting accent. And she came to "call" on me when we first moved to this house. Unfortunately I was teaching a class and DH was home alone with three children. The children were preparing for bed and were in different stages of dress/undress. Our oldest went to the front door in response to the bell and looked through the side window. She yelled to her father, "It's some old lady that we don't know" as her brother stood at the other side window - stark naked. DH reached the door and shooed the children to their rooms. Mrs. R. explained her mission, expressed her regrets at missing me, and never batted an eyelash at the behavior of the kiddos.

On another occasion Mrs. R and another neighbor were on an early morning walk as I backed out of the drive to head to work. I managed to run over a garbage can lid and jammed it between the quarter panel and the wheel. Mrs. R came to my rescue and insisted that she stand on the part of the lid sticking out as I drove the car slowly forward. I had visions of ambulances and emergency rooms, but the plan worked, lid dislodged, and we each headed off to start the day.