A woodpecker hunts for his lunch in a dead tree in the surrounding woods. The sky is blue again with a few white clouds cooling the warmer weather.

Today, I started my gardening with digging up my rudbeckia/black-eyed Susan from my still weedy vegetable plot. I’d bought it in a pot as a fundraiser at the previous place we lived; though I had no garden there, I looked forward to our next home, which would surely have a garden. Actually it was a non-negotiable for me to have a garden in our next home. Gardening is necessary for my well-being. (The NHS of the UK (National Health Service)increasingly prescribes gardening for good mental health.)

As a young girl, I loved to answer ads for garden catalogs in the  back of my mother’s magazines. I’d tape my precious dime to an index card, slide it into a small white envelope, address it to the seed company then ask my mother for a stamp. A clothes pin held my request to an arm of our mailbox for the postman to pick up (yes, our postal worker was a man). I’d eagerly check the mailbox several times every day until the wondrous day my picture book, aka seed catalog, of colorful flowers finally arrived. As I pored over the pages of “dahlias the size of a dinner plate!” and other “exotic” flowers, one plant stood out. I’d never seen a clematis growing in hot, humid Texas but the purple-flowered vine captivated me. Recently, our landlady presented me with a gift of a purple-flowered clematis—my first. I hope I grow it well in the Southern Piedmont. I found a lyrical trellis of black wire and metal leaves, to support it when it does grow.

The other night, the BBC Gardener’s World TV show (I highly recommend it) had a feature on geums, reminding me of how much I enjoyed the orange-flowered perennial I grew in my garden in England (see older posts for the story of that garden). I came across a geum plant at the local big box garden center and of course, I needed to buy one. I have some flower seeds to plant but it’s good to have some already flowering plants to get the garden started.

 I also learned on Gardener’s World that when sliding a plant out of its pot for transplanting, it’s good to run a finger over the bare roots  to stimulate growth. This plant was definitely ready to be free of its pot and be planted in the ground.

Transplants have to be well watered. I’ve had to water the transplants more than I expected, even when it had rained; it takes a few days for them to get established.

Progress! There’s still a lot to be done, which is a good thing, but I have to remember that the zinnias, and tithonias I have planned, take up a lot of space.

Do you prefer to grow your flowers from plants or seeds? Or both? I’d love to hear from you in the comments below. Please feel free to share these posts with your gardening—and garden-loving, friends.

Flower Planting

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Today was the day to travel to the local big box garden center to buy some bags of compost. I looked online first, so I wouldn’t stand there all day trying to decide—I had work to do! I found a product that claims to break up the hard red clay soil and improve the structure. It surely needs something. The website said that my ninety square foot flower bed would take ten bags. Our little car can’t carry that much and neither can I. Too expensive anyway. So I ended up with five bags—three of the “Clay Breaker” and two of another product (as it turns out, by the same company) that “contains organic fertilizer” –from a hen house it seems. I hope the rain doesn’t enhance that “fragrance” and/or bring the local flock pecking. From a bug standpoint I don’t mind but I don’t want to trip over them or have them in the way of the cars.

Some helpful young guys at the garden center hoisted the 1.5 cubic foot bags off the pile, onto the flat bed cart and into our car trunk. Too bad they couldn’t do the reverse on the other end. But a wheel cart (I don’t know what else to call it) and I managed to haul them out and to the garden, with my husband happily doing the wheeling.

Before I spread the compost, I dug up the clay soil, thankful that the weather was perfect–my mother calls it “Chamber of Commerce weather,” blue skies and mild temperatures, a soft breeze. The bag instructions said to dig up four to six inches; my back says I dug about four inches across the plot. I think I will feel it tomorrow; it’s said that if you keep on doing the thing that made you sore, you won’t be sore anymore ( of course not if you’re injured) so tomorrow’s garden workout might help.

Would I get it done before dark? It had turned cooler in the “golden hour” (the hour before sunset that photographers cherish) but it didn’t take long for me to warm up. The neighborhood rooster had given up his crowing and the crows their cawing, making way for songbirds who called, “Secret, secret” and were answered by “Picchu, picchu.” A dog barked in the distance, but otherwise it was totally quiet, giving space for my prayers. Countless shovelfuls later, the red clay became black with a layer of compost—not a deep one, but hopefully enough to make a difference in the clay bog.

Tomorrow, Lord willing, I’ll begin to plant some flowers—and make progress on weeding my vegetable patch.

What is your soil like? Do you add anything to improve it?

In the Dirt

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“Isn’t this fun?” As I grinned my way through the large garden center for first time since autumn, I spotted a woman loading a tall red hibiscus and other gorgeously vibrant scarlet, and cobalt blue-flowering plants onto her flatbed cart, and enthused over her choices. It felt so good to be back in the gardening wonderland!

I see that it’s been a long time since I’ve posted on this blog. Life has been upside down as my husband and I have moved from place to place after returning from living in England (see my posts about my English garden here https://aleafyjournal.com/2021/02/15/goodbye-and-hello-new-growth/)

We did finally land back in the Southern Piedmont of the US last year, with spaces for me to garden–a non-negotiable for me. However, because of my late start with the move, and not knowing the soil, my garden didn’t go well. Red clay that was strangely always wet didn’t germinate flower seeds well, and bugs and tomato horn worms decimated my vegetable plants. I did get a few tomatoes and flowers though.

Yesterday, after a stressful morning, I made my way outside among the trees with their bright new leaves against the saturated blue sky, air filled with birdsong and breeze, and felt the stress melt away. That’s when I knew it was time to start my garden!

At the garden center, I was enthralled with the deep red, tropical Mandevillas and several colors of hibiscus, but I reminded myself that I already had those plants—I just need to get them outside in the sun, and fertilize them. The selection was huge, but other than a couple of plants for a large pot, I brought home non-living things for my flower garden—stones, a lyrical metal trellis shaped like leafy vines, and a colorful “hose guard” with a yellow green glass globe topped by an iron(?) songbird.

After being without a place to settle in and call home for a while, it’s become important to me to have more substance to my garden, starting with outlining my flower bed with “X-tra Large Beach Pebbles,” the size of a large fist. I realized that lining gardens with stones has spelled home to me since I was a young Girl Scout making a platform tent, “home,” for the weekend. Today, I had almost enough of the heavy, but not too heavy stones. More to come.

But first, the weeds had to go. What is a weed? Anything that impedes the growth of the cultivated—though we do leave a LOT of (tiny) wildflowers on the property. Thankfully, the morning was cool today so I got a lot done before the temperature heated. However, it was hot, sneezy work that ached my back, legs and feet, but it felt good get the flower bed ready for its next step—soil testing and amending. By the time I get that done—and clear my vegetable patch, there should be no more frosts to threaten plants and seeds.

I even ordered some special, unusual seeds online since the ones in all the stores didn’t do so well last year (the one company must have a monopoly). Special though they are, they didn’t cost any more than the everyday brand. This year, I chose a lot of deep pink flowers. I look forward to showing you what I got.

What are you planting this year?

It’s Time! De-stressing With Gardening

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God has done it again! I renewed my prayer late last summer, for him to send a monarch butterfly to my garden—my favorite for its beautiful orange color, and one that I missed while we lived in England. One day soon after I’d prayed, as I sat on our porch in the Carolinas reading, movement caught my eye. There it was, the monarch butterfly I’d longed for sitting on my tall tithonia, fanning its wings—sent by The Monarch over all, Jesus. I gasped in awe, then crept as close as I dared. I carefully turned to go inside for my camera. Would it wait? Inside, I hurriedly fumbled for my camera.

Monarch Butterfly on Tithonia Flower

Back outside, I discovered that the monarch had waited patiently, perched on my tithonia, enjoying its nectar. I watched for a long time, taking lots of pictures of orange on orange, enjoying its magnificence and feeling affirmed. But finally, I got too close; it flew high in the sky, above the second story, above the chimneys and moved on to its next assignment.

Just one. One monarch butterfly sent by God as a reminder that he hears and sees me. He hears and sees you too.

Wingspread of Monarch Butterfly on Tithonia Flower

Magnificent Monarch

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Everywhere we’ve lived for the last couple of decades, I’ve asked God to send some golden yellow, black-winged American goldfinches because they’re some of my favorite birds. Why? I love their audacious color! And he has. Goldfinches have bobbed on tall grasses behind my apartment balcony, dined on my fading zinnias in my wide-open former pasture honest to goodness in the dirt garden—no need for deadheading, they did it for me. When I told an older woman who loves birds, that I pray for goldfinches and Father sends them, she fussed at me, exclaiming, “If you’re going to pray them in, you’d better feed them!” Hmm, being somewhat nomadic, I couldn’t get a feeding program started since I couldn’t keep it going. What could I do? God would have to feed them. He did; the seeds of the zinnias and towering sunflowers I grew at the time suited the goldfinches just fine.

One of the American goldfinches God sent to my garden

I asked my heavenly Father to send them to my gardens, and he has—for my joy, simply because he loves me. But when we lived in England, I didn’t ask because American goldfinches don’t live there. My heart sank when I realized that I wouldn’t see them there; certainly, England’s goldfinches are beautiful and colorful, but not the cheeky yellow-colored ones that I love.

Now that I’m back in the US and have planted a garden here again, I’ve asked God again to send me a goldfinch—this time I added, “in a way that I can see it.” A couple of days later, as I looked out our window onto our porch, I saw a large streak of yellow zip by in that downward arcing way that low-flying birds fly. That’s how I knew it was a bird and not a butterfly. Was it a goldfinch? On my porch? My eyes couldn’t be sure, but my spirit leapt.

American Goldfinch
American Goldfinch Image by Miles Moody from Pixabay

A few days later as I rested among my pots of plants, I talked to Father about it again. “I think you sent me a goldfinch, as I asked, but it flew by so fast, I couldn’t see it. Would you send me one where I can get a good look at it?” The same day, as I sat in my art studio looking out the window grieving the news of the death of a family member, something flitted in the window box outside the window. Probably a hummingbird since our neighbor feeds them, I thought. I leaned in to see it better. But it wasn’t a hummingbird, it was a goldfinch! It lingered for a couple of minutes eating from my Victoria Blue salvia stalks in clear view!

The next day, I asked God to keep the goldfinch around my garden all season, then I clearly saw it flying off my porch that day, to a nearby large tree. It had stayed.

God had heard me and given me what I’d asked.  As Hagar in the wilderness proclaimed, “You are the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13). Sending a particular bird in a particular way just for my joy seems a little thing but God does care about every little thing since he created all the heavens and the earth and every little thing in them. He cares about you.

What has little thing has God shown you to let you know he’s listening to you?

The Little Things

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Goodbye and Hello–New Growth

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Hebe, heuchera–two new-to-me plants and two old favourite–nasturtium and dianthus aka Sweet William

As my dad always said, “Long time, no see,” (Am American idiom). It has been a while since I’ve written, my time consumed by packing up our English house, clearing it out and giving away my garden—pot by pot. It was a sad process, but I had to steel myself and do it (from a distance) since UK visa laws required us to leave the country too long to keep our house and my garden. But the recipients of my pots of perennials and bulbs are blessed. Many have promised to send pictures of new blooms and the plants’ progress, promised to pray for me as they enjoy my plants and pots. Don’t send any pictures if the plants die though, I insisted.

Blue Salvia and Deep Pink Cyclamen

My English garden helped keep me going during the long lockdowns during 2020 in the UK, and gave my husband and me  a place to receive visitors when they were allowed in our gardens. There’s something about seeing the plants’ progress—growth, new blooms, something satisfying. It was also great to have a place to get out of the house, to potter/putter about, to clear my mind and to pray. We had two outdoor dining set-ups in opposite ends of the garden where on many warm or almost warm days, we ate breakfast, lunch and dinner.

But now, we’ve landed back in the Southern Piedmont region of the United States without much place to garden. However, I have a bay window with good light in my art studio that I’m filling with orchids and other tropical plants. I’m also learning that there are many more plants that do well in low to almost no light indoors, which encourages me since other windows in my care receive very little light. Even orchids are often listed as “low light.”

I hope you’ll stick with me as I grow as many plants indoors as I can manage and negotiate other places to grow beauty in our rented space. I’ll also be highlighting aspects of my English garden that I so enjoyed.

In what ways has your garden-or public gardens, helped you through the pandemic?

Bramble Berries

/ Joan C. Thomson / 2 Comments

The end of our back garden grows wild; last year I cut back the brambles, but they only grew again. We enjoyed the berries they produced, so this year I let them sprawl. Most evenings, I pick the shiny ebony-coloured fruit, drop them into my little ceramic bowl, painted with green scroll-work, and feel a joy rising up in me. Soft, golden light or bluish grey cloudy. Breeze or wind, even a few raindrops, it doesn’t matter; somehow, I feel God’s presence in that moment, that place. Blackbirds serenade but more often, it’s me singing out to my heavenly Father. “Thank you Father for this wonderful provision of food that I didn’t have to work for,” except of course to climb among the brambles and carefully search with my fingers avoiding the thorny undersides of the leaves. Occasionally, the berries are too ripe and collapse in my fingers, dripping them with purple, but the berries still go in the little bowl for tomorrow’s muesli. I avoid thorns scraping my legs by firmly planting my feet on the brambles as I reach far back in the growth. I bend low to discover the hidden treasures or stand at a different angle to find all the ripe ones. If I don’t get them, they’ll go to seed. The magpies, wood pigeons, crows, blackbirds, and doves decline, thank you very much.

But today, it was time to cut the brambles back. They’re picked out. They never produced a massive amount, just what we needed, though one day I had enough of a bounty for my husband to make a blackberry crumble. It’s been a long time since we’ve had such a treat.

Tomorrow is brown bin day—pronounced “bean,” here in Yorkshire, so today was the day to prune. Between some annoyingly long shrub branches that I finally reached with the ladder (thanks to my husband for his steadying hand), and the chopped brambles, the bin is full. Satisfying.

What simple provision has God made for you in your garden or elsewhere?

Out of the House at Last!

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Welcome to the walled garden

When public gardens were allowed to open, it was glorious to finally get out of the house and visit an historical walled garden! Clouds and some wind gusts didn’t make brilliant weather, but it worked fine for our first outing in seventeen weeks.

Hollyhocks, echinops, helenium, phlox, dianthus, lady’s mantle

Dianthus and delphinium dressed in wonderfully outrageous colours. Some plants I’d only seen in magazines and TV—the blue violet prickly globes of echinops, looking like they’d flown in from another planet, and tall spires of yellow mullein.  Others, such as the towering broad-leafed plants bearing large frilly, daisy-like flowers were new to me, but an internet search doesn’t locate them. The stately hollyhocks reminded me of my long-ago friend Ann, who taught me to cook with herbs (pronounced with a hard “h,” the British way)—and how to preserve them. Her garden always grew hollyhocks. These hollyhocks stood tall in dignified colours of deep red and a red deeper still—almost black.

Electric blue delphinium, the mystery daisy-like plant and another gorgeous tall and airy plant that I can’t identify. Do you know what these are? Please comment below. Thanks

I love being surrounded by a garden—up to my eyes, even above my head. Regimented rows around my ankles can be pretty but I love the exuberance of height.

A lovely rose

The centre of the walled garden was filled with geometric-shaped beds of roses in many colour varieties—my grandmother would have loved it. I had to bend low to smell the lovelies, but the fragrance rewarded me. During lockdown, fragrance has encouraged me in new ways.

The gardener told us that it’s hard to keep staff or volunteers—they start with a romantic notion of being surrounded by beauty then leave when they have to weed every day. Beauty takes work, but with the right heart, it’s joyful work.

What’s your favourite English garden? Which flowers do you love to grow?

Mystery Plants

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Mystery plants among the lettuce

Early in the spring I filled one of my large pots with loads of tiny seeds from an upscale seed packet of “mixed lettuces.” They’d be quick growing and we could have some refreshing salads before it was time for other vegetable plants to take up residence. They did wonderfully well. Except that half of them looked nothing like lettuces. But what were they? I looked them up on the internet but the pictures I found looked nothing like what was in my garden—and growing fast! Were they a different kind of salad green? I wouldn’t mind; I even let a few dandelions grow in my pots for salad. But what if they’re not? What if they were there by accident? What if they were poisonous? I asked some friends; “Look on the internet.” Back at the beginning of the circle.

Not lettuce!

As the mystery plants grew larger and threatened to take over my newly vining beans, I prayed about what I should do. Then it came to me; the seed packet said “lettuces,” and these were not lettuces! If something other than what I planted was growing in my veg pot, it became obvious–since they were not lettuces, they did not belong. I couldn’t find out what they were, but I knew what they weren’t so out they came, making room for two bean plants and a large bell pepper plant.

Veg pot with room for bell peppers and runner beans

Later, I saw some plants just like the ones I had evicted in a nearby weeded area. I do allow wildflowers to grow—what some might call weeds, but not in my veg pots.

Jesus talked about weed seeds masquerading as a crop:

 Jesus told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.“The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’

‘An enemy did this,’” he replied.

Apparently the seed company also had an “enemy,” or blundered. Not everything that says it’s the real thing, is.

Garden Wish List

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My gathering of plants

We’re going to the local garden centre, would like for us to pick some plants up for you and bring them to you? Would I? Yes please! What a gift! The garden centres are recently allowed by the UK government to reopen and we’re encouraged to support them. Of course (any excuse will do)! My wish list was long though I knew that it was too early for some things and others too soon for newly restocking garden centres. No orange nemesia—these bloom nearly forever, putting on quite a show, no zinnias—again, probably too early, no miniature pink water lily. But I had to try; you never know what might turn up. I also asked for a cup and saucer vine or an orange black-eyed susan climber for our garden arch but only some sad-looking white climbers had made their way to the nursery. Alas.

Striped canna

HOWEVER, My friend found a gorgeous striped leaf canna—we don’t yet know what colour it will be but if images on Google are any indication it will likely be orange—my favourite. The pot says Canna Island but when I searched it, I only got listings on an Island in Scotland.

Amazone dahlia

Petunias in burgundy (red violet) and blue (purple) were there—some of my all time favourite bedding flowers. They bloom again and again in their showy colours and heavenly scent. Since gardening in England, I’ve become a fan of dahlias, spurred on by frequent mention and glorious photography on BBC Gardener’s World (if you don’t live in UK, you can find excerpts on YouTube—I recommend!) In the US, we pronounce the flowers, dahl-yah; a vintage celebrity’s name—Arlene Dahl, gave us what seemed an obvious clue to pronunciation. But the Brits say dale-ya. Either way, they come in many sizes, shapes and colours blooming well into the autumn. I had picked up a couple of small ones at Aldi, which are nice but this Amazone is a prize.

Victoria Blue salvia and euphorbia

I also asked for a Victoria Blue salvia, something I’ve grown every year for a couple of decades. They can be counted on for their deep blue, nearly violet spires to keep blooming until the heat slows them down, then burst into bloom again in the autumn. And again, in spring. Hmm..blue hill and blue marvel only. Yes, definitely the one that leans toward violet. Surprise! It is indeed what I’ve known as Victoria Blue—a good colour companion to my yellow green euphorbia.

We rounded out the gathering of plants with a tomato, two courgettes (zucchini) and a tray of runner beans.

My containers are looking more colourful and less lonely these days thanks to my thoughtful friends.

What’s on your garden wish list?