It's A Snap!

Day 252: It's a snap to grow snapdragons! It's been several years since I bought four colours as bedding plants, and they have self-seeded each successive year. I do find the occasional "volunteer" somewhere surprising, like in the raspberry patch, seed carried there by a bird or perhaps even on the sole of my shoe. Snaps are amazingly tenacious, blooming sometimes even after frost has killed down other plants. If they get a little aggressive, spreading to locations where they're unwanted, they're easy to dig out and transplant to a new spot. Snapdragons are cheery and fun! Every garden should have a few.

Snappy

Day 266: After several valiant but entirely unsuccessful attempts to grow snapdragons from seed, I finally gave up and bought starter plants from a nursery about ten years ago. Ironically, those plants not only self-sowed, but the originals over-wintered with the stems remaining green despite hard frosts. While I am grateful for their contribution to my colour garden, I do wish that the bronze one had survived. It was apparently not as hardy as these two old standards. I've let these have their will, so that now snapdragons pop up in the oddest places: back behind the tall delphiniums and peonies, under the sweetfern shrub. I love their playfulness, surprising me by leaping out of shadows where I least expected them to hide. Maybe some day, I'll bring more home from the store. I mean, you can never have too many snapdragons, right?

Soft Light

Day 321: With clouds on the eastern horizon, the soft light of early morning provided an opportunity to photograph the Cosmos. I prefer to shoot in natural light, often using a tripod to obtain a long exposure, and sunlight, although something of a rarity in the Pacific Northwest, makes for "hot spots" on light-coloured flowers. My camera is less sensitive to red and purples than I'd like, but I find I get truer tones when there is a slight overcast even though the greens appear somewhat duller. Now as for the pinkness of these particular Cosmos, they may be volunteers from past years. The package I bought this year was supposed to be yellow and orange shades, and a shorter variety. I am beginning to have reservations about buying any more seed from the company I normally use. Germination rates have been very low for their products over the last several years, and this is not the first time the variety has not been true to the description. It may be time to move on.

Snap Shots

Day 317: I've planted an assortment of annuals in my flower beds over the years, and as most of us are wont to do, I've unintentionally allowed them to re-seed themselves, ensuring a succession of "volunteers." Some have proved to be bothersome. It took me several years to eliminate the last of the Lobelia, a plant which is fine massed in hanging baskets, but rather annoying when it pops up elsewhere. Likewise, marigolds are nice along a border, but have a tendency to turn up where you least want them to be. Snapdragons are another story. Who doesn't love snaps? I would prefer the low types to the tall ones, but that lanky, lemony one in the middle makes such a bright and cheerful addition that I've given it permission to seed to its heart's content in a spot where nothing else seems to want to grow.

Snap-Shots

Day 304: Last year, I accidentally bought some tall snapdragons instead of the shorter varieties I prefer. As Murphy's Law would have it, the tallest wintered over and are now providing me with spikes of lemon-yellow blooms. One solitary dark red survived, but it is lost among other plants. The pink ones shown here are new this year (pinker than they looked in the store), as are the red-and-yellows which I absolutely love. Snaps are a good way to add pops of colour to your garden, besides being just plain fun for those of us who never quite grew up.

A Glad, Good September Morn

Day 323: A Glad, Good September Morn to you, my friends! As many (but not all) of you know, this is my personal "holiday," second only to Christmas on my calendar. Traditionally, it is celebrated with a swim (or at least a dunk) in a chilly alpine tarn somewhere, but with this being Labor Day weekend, the celebration will have to be put on hold until it can be performed without the chance of being seen. Instead, I have chosen to bring you the beauty of my garden, just a small bouquet which includes no more than three stems of any given plant species. Believe me, the sacrifice was negligible! Included are two types of Coneflower (Rudbeckia), two Cosmos, Nasturtiums, Lavender, Delphinium, hardy Fuchsia, Snapdragons, Nigella, tall Phlox and a few California Poppies which were in a "wildflower" mix. May your coming year be as bright and festive as these flowers, and may you find joy in the Beautiful Month.

Make It Snappy

Day 298: Early on in the history of my garden, I tried snapdragons. Like most of the things I planted during that era, they failed miserably. Now after many years of soil amendments and care, the flower beds are sufficiently improved to support these traditional favourites.

Let's back up in the story. When I bought my home almost thirty years ago, the flower beds beneath the windows had been ignored for many years. They were entirely overgrown with grass and weeds to the point that the only thing which distinguished them from "yard" was a concrete walkway. That first spring, a friend helped me excavate them to a depth of about 18", and the two of us sifted the soil with our hands in the hopes of removing most of the weeds' roots. We replanted any tubers which looked like they might produce desirable plants, and thereby were able to salvage peonies, delphiniums and columbine. For the next four years, I was weeding on an almost daily basis, trying to rid the garden of nuisance species. It felt like a never-ending chore.

During this time, I planted annuals and shifted perennials around until I got them where I wanted them, and gradually, the weeds thinned out until one big "spring cleaning" and a vigilant eye were all that was needed to keep the flower beds in trim. Invariably, some annual would go to seed and the following spring, I'd be pulling lobelia or marigolds as well as clover and epilobium in order to keep with the year's changeable theme. I fertilized and added good-quality commercial soil. Eventually, I put in additional perennials, leaving a border and a few open spaces to fill with annuals so I could created a different look each year. Satisfied with the beds, my attention then turned to the bare yard and I began adding trees, shrubs and more flower beds, but that's another story. I'm happy that I was finally able to "make it snappy," even if it took thirty years.

Make It Snappy!

Day 219: For many years, I struggled with starting my own bedding plants. I hung a fluorescent plant light above the washer and dryer (the only cat-proof space in the house big enough for seed flats), but every time I wanted to do laundry, I had to take it down and shift the trays in order to fill the top-loader washer. The windowsills were occupied by single-row flats; the south exposures too hot, the west exposures too shady, requiring an almost daily rotation from one room to another. From March to May (some of my favourites took 12 weeks to germinate), my living space became a greenhouse, but the rewards were not always as splendid as I had pictured them in my mind. When it finally came time to set out the seedlings, I was ready to be shut of responsibility to my botanical charges and would pop them into the ground with something less than parental sentiments as if they were teenagers I was glad to get out of the house. Accordingly, some failed and some flourished in the manner of all offspring regardless of species.

A few years ago during a cool, wet February, I put the pros and cons in the balance and decided that the expense of commercially-grown bedding plants was justified against the inconvenience and limited success of home horticulture. With the notable exception of Gazanias (not often seen in nurseries), I now buy starts. My job as greenhouse-keeper has not been eliminated entirely; availability does not always agree with the climate at this elevation, e.g., Spoonflowers and tomatoes must be bought when I find them, and repotted in larger containers to be held for setting out in the latter half of May. But unlike previous years when little bloomed until late summer, nowadays the status of my garden goes from bleak to colourful in a snap...(dragon).