Long Blooming Perennials

My garden doesn't look anything like this today.
But, I can dream, can't I?

I was awakened by howling winds... dark grey skies, blowing snow. I probably wouldn't mind so much if it hadn't been for that glorious early start to spring 2 weeks ago.

Alyssum is one of the first perennials to flower in my spring garden. (Not counting bulbs.)

That's when the weather warmed so beautifully I was able to spring into action and clean up one of my flower beds.

As Alyssum begins to fade, pale blue Jacobs Ladder bursts into bloom.

Then as quickly as spring arrived, it disappeared. Under another foot of snow. Unseasonably cold March days. No more tromping around the garden ~ at least not for awhile.

After Jacobs Ladder comes a sea of multicolored Columbines.

So, today I'm dreaming about my assembly line perennials. They may not be ultra-cool or super exotic. But they serve a happy purpose. These girls bloom in rapid succession all summer long.

Columbines grow amidst big clumps of perennial Geraniums.

Blue blooms first. Then pink steps in to pick up the slack.



Come 4th of July, Jupiter's Beard celebrate their own independence. It doesn't matter how often I thin the herd, they still grow up to be monsters.

In the dog days of summer, Yarrow creates a polka dot mess of bright color:

Soon after, fall-blooming Asters add new life to my gardens, indicating the sorry change of seasons:

Which serves as the wake up call for Sedum:

Sedum finishes blooming right about the time I'm so over gardening it isn't even funny.

The only real downside to a perennial garden is that even the long-blooming perennials only flower for 6-8 weeks, as opposed to 4 months of flowers with annuals. But, I still think perens are the way to go.

If I had to hand out report cards, these gals would graduate at the top of their class. The perennials listed here provide bright, gorgeous color from early spring to late fall.

1. Alyssum
   
2. Jacobs Ladder
3. Columbine
4. Cranesbill Geraniums
5. Achillea Yarrow
6. Rudbeckia
7. Jupiter's Beard
   
8. Solidago
9. Asters
10. Sedum
    

* They might flower at different times in your garden. Things are weird in the mountains.

Visitors!

Across the road from a dilapidated old shack (that I like to call home) is a great big beautiful meadow called the Swaner Preserve.





1200 acres of protected open space where birds and beasts come and go all year long.



My early morning ritual involves a steaming cup of very, very strong cowboy coffee.

One of those ultra-warm, cuddly, comfy, fleece robes (bright red, way ugly!)


And, some seriously tacky bunny slippers.

Because even in winter (it was 8 degrees this morning) I have my coffee out on the deck that faces the meadow.

I never know who or what will be hanging out in that meadow. Maybe a fox. Perhaps an eagle. But, a herd of Elk?? In the 5 years I have lived here I've never seen a site like this before!

Advice on Peas. Pretty Please?

Got a note from Dave, the pea lover, wondering what's a good variety to plant and is there such a thing as a safe planting date in the mountains?

First, the easy question. There is no safe planting date. However! My neighbors have learned that the last hard freeze of the winter ALWAYS happens the week AFTER I plant MY veggie garden. So, if you wait until I screw up you should be in pretty good shape.

If you're more of a leader than a follower here are a couple of options:


1) Sow by seed quick-growing peas that mature in 65-80 days.
2) Or, start them indoors. I plant mine in plastic drinking cups. They grow on the deck for the month of May (so I can haul them indoors on an exceptionally cold night.) I put them in the ground around June 15th.
* This is sadly abnormal in comparison to low lander veggie gardeners but mountain growing seasons are on a different timetable. We get started later but we can usually harvest later, too.

There are tons of pea varieties - English peas, snap peas, snow peas (edible pods) and, the most misunderstood of all, the Black Eyed Peas. These are considered beans if you live in the north or a highly entertaining band if you're younger than me.

Kelvedon Wonder ~ one of my favorites. It's a fast growing, tasty variety that shrugs off pea wilt and other disasters. Matures in 65 days.

Sugar Ann and Sugar Mel ~ (Don't they sound like the cutest couple?) Quick, crisp and delicious. Ready for picking in about 60 days.

Alderman (aka Tall Telephone) ~ the yummiest pea you've ever gobbled. They say this big guy requires 75 days - but it's closer to 100. Start him indoors and gift him with a tall fence. He'll climb 8 feet if you let him.

Sun-kissed, vine-ripened, fresh-picked, barely fertilized:

• Peas produce their own nitrogen but they'll love you forever if you give them an extra shot of phosphorus.
• Peas are a cool season veggie. Cool, not cold. Dave's overly-anxious neighbor pushes aside the snow to plant seeds directly into the ground very early. That's a different outcome for the tortoise and the hare. Peas need warmth to sprout so, sure! You can plant them early but they'll wait for warmer weather to germinate. If you plant them later chances are good they'll reach the finish line at about the same time.

Give Peas a Second Chance!
Saving pea seed is simple. Allow the pods to dry until brown on the vines. Hand shell them and plant the following spring.

Wild Equinox

It may appear that these Wild Mustangs are standing on the edge of a great sea but it's actually a broad, barren desert that stretches all the way to Nevada.

ROAD TRIP! This week's Friday Afternoon Club took us far west, to the town of [we'll never tell] on desolate county road number [we'll never tell] to a place so remote we did not see another car all day long.

We were searching for wild Mustangs. The chances of actually finding them is so rare I held out no hope whatsoever.

But some days... oh, do I love those days... you don't even need to turn on the porch light for good luck to knock on your door.

As we made our way down a bumpy dirt road we spotted this small group far off in the distance. A young stallion and 3 mares keeping a watchful eye on us. There were others. A mare off by herself in a sage brush thicket. Perhaps hiding a new baby?

And the 2 yearlings in the top photo. We think they're young Mustang stallions because they dog the small herd but they keep their distance. All the big guy had to do was turn and face them in order to scare them off.

Most of these photos were taken by KC who has a real gift for capturing wildlife in motion and a super duper telephoto lens - which never hurts - because when we first spotted our Mustangs, they were so far away it was hard to tell what they were.

* The Spring Equinox happens each year at one specific moment in time (rather than one whole day), when the center of the Sun is vertically above the Earth's equator. This year, it happened on 3/20 at 11:44 Universal Time and all that really means is... spring is here and the Daffodils are blooming!

** "We'll Never Tell" ~ This was an unforgettable day. As I watched the Mustangs gallop off into the distance I realized that the very best thing we could probably do for them is to never tell anyone where they live.

*** Oh! And, if you have nothing better to do...
Modern folklore claims that on the March Equinox you can balance an egg on its point. But, you can balance an egg on its point any day of the year... providing you have enough patience.

Irish Gardens

I've had a love affair with the Emerald Isle for as long as I've been on this planet. On days, when life becomes unruly, I close my eyes and daydream about an imaginary cottage ~ with a brightly blooming Irish garden ~ in some out of the way spot that never gets cell phone service.

Flourishing in this imaginary place are all my Irish Garden favorites:

Viburnum

Primrose

Bellis perennis

Ox Eye Daisy

Broom

Ranunculus

Plus lots and lots of cool, bright, soft and squishy... Irish Moss.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

* Plant an Irish Garden
Perennials: Bellis perennis, Primula vulgaris, Ranunculus ficaria, Achillea millefolium Leucanthemum vulgare. Bushes: Cytisus scoparius, Ulex europeaus Ligistrum vulgare, Viburnum opulus. Ground Cover: Sagina subulata

Medium Rare Aspirations

Scrap whatever you're planning to make for dinner. Get thee to the store and start shoppin' for Paprika. Yup. You read right. Paprika!

You can grow* your own Paprika, ya know. It's not that hard. All you need to do is... whoa! Who cares? Back to the matter at hand.

I've found a steak recipe that deserves mention in my will.

You're gonna need a whole bunch of these. To blend. To roast. And, to munch on while you're cooking up a storm.

It's a dry rub plus an amazing steak sauce ~ one taste and you'll happily discard any bottles of A1 kicking around the frig.

Here's the rub recipe:
And, the steak sauce:

Created by Iron Chef extraordinaire, Bobby Flay.

I imagine I'm breaking all sorts of laws by posting his recipe in my blog. But, once again, who cares? He's cute! If I make him so mad he calls me up and hollers at me... well... that wouldn't be half bad.

Paprika is made from grinding the dried pods of mild pepper plants. Like most things American, the paprika we're familiar with is bland to the point of being tasteless.

However! Spanish and Hungarian Paprikas impart great flavor to foods. You can grow these little goodies in your garden. Kolosca peppers is a tame variety to try. Kick it up a notch with Dulce Rojo and Alma Spicy.

Life Before Death

I do solemnly swear this will be the last blog post showing us having fun in the snow. This is, after all, a gardening blog. But snow or no... ya gotta love that view.

From the top of Iron Canyon, you can see for miles and miles.

Higher and higher we must go in order to find that really good snow... This week's Friday Afternoon Club adventure took us to the tippy top of Iron Canyon.

Along one of the steepest trails we've ever snowshoed.

Through a quiet forest of Quaking Aspens.

To the lookout. Rather, the look down. Upon Park City Mountain Ski Resort. Most folks reach this elevation by taking a chairlift so we were quite proud of ourselves for snowshoeing all the way up here.

As we huffed and puffed our way to the top, KC offered up 1 really terrific quote: "I believe in Life BEFORE death," she says.

"So say we all."

Once we reached the top we discovered we were missing one crucial piece of equipment. The other hikers brought sleds so they could fly all the way back down the mountain!

Catching Up to Me

African Violets brighten my kitchen window.
[A fab way to divert attention from dirty dishes that need washing!]

When in the mood to eavesdrop, I hear this question all the time: Where did the week go?

Into the history books, I suppose, with very little to show for it. Been so wrapped up in this, that, and the other thing I forgot all about my itty bitty blog.

How does she do it?
A trio of micro mini roses, different colors?
In one pot?*

Seedlings are percolating nicely in the big, bay window. The warmth of the sun inspired all my favorites to bloom: Jane's Azaleas, an experimental Day Lily, forced Hyacinth and tiny Narcissus bulbs, bright red Kalanchoe...

Outdoors?
1 unmistakable sign of spring:

* How does she do it? 3 colors of micro mini roses in one pot??? Oh, that one's easy. Snip the roses, hide them amidst the leaves in 1 pot, shoot the picture. Presto! You're a gardening rock star. :)

Disco Fever & The Prancing Ponies

Micro mini roses are blooming in the sunny window.
(The only non-weird thing to happen this week. )

"You can learn a lot from becoming discombobulated." - Next Door Neighbor

Tell me about it! Every plan I had this week was foiled in one way or another ~ through false promises, high winds, double bookings...

We made a valiant attempt to do Friday Afternoon (hiking) Club on Wednesday. But we sought out a new trail on the advice of someone who is clearly in good athletic condition.

Listen to me, now, because this is very important.If you need a new hiking trail ask a fat person. They'll be looking out for you every step of the way.

Never ask an athlete. [I don't know what we were thinking!] Athletes will send you to the steepest trail imaginable just to meddle with your self-esteem. Once we saw this new, steep trail, we bagged the whole idea and went for a long lunch.

That lunch was running neck and neck as highlight to my weird week. That is, until I discovered what the horses do on Thursday afternoons.

My riding lesson, like everything else, was rescheduled again and again and again. Until finally I just decided to drive down there to see if Tina would show me some love.

The place was pretty much abandoned. As we warmed up in the arena, J turned on some music. That theme from the Rocky movie. Full blast. Instantly the horses broke into a canter, joyfully galloping to the beat of that song. Then, we trotted to Abba [Dancing Queen!] Next up, Sister Sledge.

I didn't know horses love music! Admittedly they have terrible taste in music but still ~ how cool is that!?

I had no idea what I was doing but horse, Tina, didn't exactly need my guidance. She's big into the boogie. Who knew disco dancing would finally be our breakthrough?

* Yeah, yeah. I'm sure we looked utterly ridiculous but who cares? If you'd like to see how this is done by a pro, watch this amazing video. At the end, when he hugs her? I usually cry. [Tears of joy.]

Paper Yellows

March winds howled relentlessly for 3 long days. Picking at my sanity like a hungry bird.

I'd toss and turn, shake off strange nightmares, and try it again. Come morning, I'd stumble toward the coffee pot in a sleepy fog.

Then oh so abruptly, relief. The noisy wind stopped. It quietly began to snow. Soft gently falling flakes that invite me to see a magic in winter most gardeners do not.

Even though it was night time, Bad Dog and I donned the snowshoes and took a little hike. Soaking in the silence, returning to normal, I rediscovered my smile.

When we got home the toilet exploded. So, I've been having a week.

Fortunately, for me, so have the indoor Daffodils and that's a good thing.

Narcissus has been hopelessly hybridized to the point it's hard to know what you're growing. But this variety, Narcissus papyraceus, will always have a special spot in my window.

They're commonly colored white and called Paperwhites. I get all the white I need outdoors in the form of snow. These are the rebels of that Tazetta group, Paper Yellows.

The Poor [Yet Persuasive] Man's Orchid

They call it the Poor Man's Orchid and I wholeheartedly agree ~ it was on sale for $1.99.

Any other claim to Orchid fame would have to be lumped into that oh so common file called false advertising.

You'd have to be one very poor and highly persuasive man to talk any woman into believing this is an Orchid.

My happy little grocery store bargain is called Schizanthus and while she looks more like an Alstroemeria than she ever could an Orchid, I immediately concluded that: Beggars cannot be choosers.

In this 'Winter of Discontent' aka how Kate's Hellishly Dull Budget is severely cramping her style, a buck 99 for some flower-filled joy was right up my alley.

Even the cat was impressed:
Schizanthus is a cute little annual that will flower for months and - get this - she doesn't require deadheading. Never thought I'd reach this conclusion, but the white ones are actually prettier. Though they were truly dead as doornails on the sale table. The pinkies bounced back with a drink of water. Which prompts me to ask the age old question once again: Why don't flower shops water their flowers?

Spooky Meg & the Snowman Tribe

I haven't a clue what this is all about. Though it involved a film crew and a whole gaggle of snowmen makers.

This week's Friday Afternoon Club was canceled due to me perfecting the art of procrastination. I did that so well I had to stay home Friday to catch up on work.

For a little while, anyway. Until I was saved by that proverbial bell.

As in the ringing of the telephone and the downright giddy voice on the other end of it proclaiming: THE SNOW HAS MELTED!

Not completely but enough so we could go for a ride.

Oh, I have missed my girl.

Ms. Megan has whiled away the winter doing what horses do best ~ lounging in the pasture, growing fat and sassy. Forgetting all about me and saddles and the fun we had last summer.

Horses are particularly spooky in the springtime. Everything scares them because it takes a little while to re-engage the brain. So, we tread very carefully on that first ride after a long winter. We go slow, choose her most familiar trail. Hope we don't encounter a loose dog or anything out of the ordinary.

Like... 200 snowmen???
And, that's when we bolted for the barn.