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Compared to ubiquitous carex and calamagrostis, Anemanthele lessoniana is a less-frequently used ornamental grass (not to mention a bit of a mouthful!). But it deserves wider fame, so I thought it was time to show it some love on the blog.
Commonly known as Pheasant’s Tail Grass (and once known as Stipa arundinacea), this is a cool-season grass that is hardy to zone 8. (Grasses are classified as either cool- or warm-season. Cool-season grasses start to grow as soon as the soil warms up in the spring. They flower in mid-summer and then their growth slows and they just kind of hang out. Warm-season grasses don’t start putting on new growth until late spring. They flower from late summer until frost.)
I love my Pheasant’s Tail Grass. Its glowy spring colour, not really done justice in the photo above, is absolutely stunning, especially when backlit. Its flowers are delicate and whispery, and it maintains a good arching mounded shape all year (I don’t cut mine back). This grass is said to do really well in the Pacific Northwest, and mine’s certainly lived up to that plug. Love, love, love.
Aw, shucks! Heavy Petal is up for a 2008 Blotanical award for Best Design. There’s only one day left to vote – and I’d love yours! Vote now.
I recently updated my About page. It wasn’t just that it was time for an update. I’d also been feeling uncomfortable with some of the language I’d used when I first wrote it a million years ago in 2005. Here’s an excerpt from the old About:
Heavy Petal’s mission is to demonstrate that gardening isn’t just for the suburban, the aged, or the hopelessly unfashionable. Rejecting horticultural snobbery along with plastic swan garden planters, Heavy Petal is gardening – from an urban, organic perspective.
It’s pretty obvious that gardening is no longer strictly in the realm of little old ladies with acreage, if it ever was. This is especially the case if you look at gardening the way I’ve come to define it. But in the past few years, gardening has become – heaven help us – hip. We’ve heard it all: it’s the new rock n’ roll, the new knitting, the new whatever.
So I don’t think I need to “demonstrate that gardening isn’t just for the suburban, the aged, or the hopelessly unfashionable.” We know that already. Duh.
And what about my take on, er, less subtle forms of garden decor? While there’s definitely a part of me that takes an evil delight in making snarky comments about other people’s take on style, I’ve mellowed a bit. Maybe it’s the neighbourhood I live in – I’m just happy when people make some sort of effort, even if it’s not to my particular taste. And if someone’s obviously enjoying their garden, who am I to judge?
Take the above photo, for example. That yard totally belongs in the WTF category. And yet. Someone’s having fun there (or perhaps, as the Brits would say, “taking the Mick”). Is that so wrong? Depends on what kind of day it is, but now, at least once in a while, I might say “nope.” Either my sweet little baby is turning me soft, or I’m getting old. Christ.
I mean, you still won’t find plastic swan garden planters here, but for today at least I’ll say more power to you if you love them. As long as you’re gardening.
Autumn Glow, originally uploaded by digitalART2.
It’s the first day of autumn. As a gardener, I am supposed to be unhappy about this, but frankly, I love fall! I love kicking leaves on long walks. I love crisp, cold air enjoyed while bundled up in long scarves. I love the smell of falling leaves and burning piles. I love sweaters and gumboots and mugs of tea. So yeah, the peak gardening season is over, but I’m cool with that. Now’s the time to snuggle in and dream about next year!
Happy autumn, everyone.
I planted these ‘Music Box’ kneehigh sunflowers from Renee’s Garden in a corner bulge garden (a planting area the City makes available where there might otherwise be concrete or a hell strip) near my home.
I wanted to plant sunflowers in the garden – a hot, sunny location right across from an elementary school – because community gardens seem to need sunflowers, don’t you think? But because it’s at the corner of an intersection, the plants there had to be low-growing. Once upon a time, this might have ruled out sunflowers entirely.
Nowadays there’s a variety of dwarf sunflowers with impossibly cute names (Munchkin, Sundance Kid, Teddy Bear, etc). I chose ‘Music Box’ for its multi-branched, bicoloured blooms, and they didn’t disappoint. At less than a foot high, they provided the garden with that warm, carefree feeling sunflowers evoke – if not the impact of the traditional sky-high sunflower. I’ll plant them again next year: these were fun, super low-maintenance little plants that transformed an otherwise barren corner of my neighbourhood!
 Runway: Equinox two-seater from Barlow Tyrie  Reality: second-hand sofa with good bones. I’ve been looking for seating for our back patio for what feels like forever. I had a very specific idea of the clean, modern look I wanted, but it was a classic case of champagne taste on a beer budget (the Equinox sofa, at top, retails for over $2000). So when I saw this old metal-framed sofa and matching lounge chair at a second-hand shop, I jumped.
I figured we could strip the pieces down to their metal frames, paint them, and refit the frames with cedar slats (the original cushions were wood-backed).
Cheaper and quicker than powder coating, RustOleum matte pewter spray paint easily covered the frames – and looks great! Cedar slats, stained with Sikkens Cetol-1 in Natural, provided a stable base that can be left outside year round, and look half decent even without the cushions.
Finally, we had cushions made (out of Sunbrella Charcoal Tweed #6007), added some throw pillows, and voila!
The lack of furniture was my final stumbling block to acheiving patio greatness. Now that it’s complete, a great many gin and tonics will be consumed there (at least until the rains start).
Check back later this week to see before and after shots of the entire patio!
 Humble butterfly bush gets an extreme makeover with 'Blue Chip'
Earlier this summer, Proven Winners and Gardenimport kindly sent me a selection of new shrubs to trial. One of those was Buddleia Lo & Behold ‘Blue Chip’ – a new miniature butterfly bush.
By name alone, I wasn’t totally stoked on this plant. I’ve always wanted to like buddleia (also spelled buddleja). What’s not to like about a plant that attracts beneficial insects – especially one with the fanciful name of “butterfly bush”? But the buddleias I have known have been unruly, straggly beasts – completely unsuited to my small space.
Buddleia ‘Blue Chip’ promises to be a new breed all together – it’s tidy and compact, growing to a maximum of 2-3′ (60-90cm) with a spread of 30″ (75cm). The specimen I received was full and well-shaped (’Blue Chip’ is said to form a “tidy mound”) – not the spindly vase-shape usually associated with buddleia. It would work well in containers or even as a ground cover.
 Buddleia Lo & Behold 'Blue Chip' Gardenimport says, “it blooms continuously [rather than in waves]… old flowers melt away and are covered by new blooms mid-summer to frost.” It is hardy to zone 5, enjoys full sun, and never needs deadheading. And while there is some controversy about buddleia’s tendency to become invasive in certain locales, Buddleia ‘Blue Chip’ produces little if any seed, so you can sleep easy there.
Anyway, despite my misgivings about its genus, I went ahead and planted Buddleia ‘Blue Chip’ in my “cool bed” alongside dark purple heucheras, blue hostas, silvery brunneras and white-flowering annuals. And wouldn’t you know it – the little guy bloomed for me a couple of weeks later. (It looked fabulous.) Despite its name, I wouldn’t say ‘Blue Chip’s blooms are a true blue. Like many “blue” flowers, they are a cool mauve – at least to my eye. It also didn’t flower until frost as advertised – it put on a show for a few weeks then conked out. However, that could be because it’s its first season. Or that I planted it in part-sun. We’ll see how it does next year. I have high hopes.
Buddleia Lo & Behold ‘Blue Chip’ is the first in a series of miniature butterfly bushes from ColorChoice Shrubs by Proven Winners. Look for it in the nursery next spring.
Photo credit: www.provenwinners.com
 Mint, self-seeded between concrete pavers. Mint is supposed to be one of those indestructible plants. Google “growing mint” and you’re met with cheers (or jeers, as the case may be) such as “a cinch to grow!”, “perfect for beginners” and “so strong it can be invasive.”
So why does mine look like it’s on its deathbed? Its bottom leaves are yellowing and falling off. The remainder look curled and brittle. Yet just a few doors down from me, my neighbour has mint sprouting up between their pavers. Hrm. Maybe I should give up gardening and start a mommy blog.
 The dastardly mealybug at work. Except, looking closer, I notice little bugs that look like miniscule albino hedgehogs. They’re tiny, fuzzy white critters, obviously the cause of my mint’s struggle. Turning to the interweb, I find out that I am the not-so-proud owner of mealybugs, so named, I learn, “because the white wax on their bodies makes it look like they were rolled in flour.” Nice. A type of scale insect, mealybugs feed on plant sap, weakening or even killing the host plant. Which is why it’s a good thing they’re attacking my mint, because it’s up for the fight. A non-beginner plant might have given up the ghost.
Sadly, I’ll probably toss out my mint, because mealybugs are supposedly difficult to get rid of, organically or otherwise. Maybe my neighbours will spot me a replacement.
BTW, Hanna has a great post on mint and the origins of its Latin name: mentha.
This is so awesome, I wasn’t sure whether to put it in the Inspiration or WTF? category. What do you think the story is here? Impossible-to-resist price cuts at the Discount Landscaping Depot? Commemorative animal statuary for deceased family pets? Did they start with the fountain, then, labelled as statuary lovers, fall prey to tragically misguided gift giving? Or my favourite possible explanation: a donkey, a rabbit, a chicken and a lion were hanging out at the local watering hole, when suddenly, a magical mermaid appeared, turning them all into stone. Or at least white-washed cast concrete.
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