Wild Mandala, Growing

Plant Profile: Feverfew

2009-10-12T07:18:00.000-07:00

Description: I grow Feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium) mainly for medicinal purposes, but this is of course only one reason of many. As a flower, it is very similar to chamomile, with its yellow conical centres and white daisy-like petals which bloom between July and October. I love the citrusy smell of its leaves which go well in some potpourri. Growing about 18 - 24 inches tall, I would rank it is a 'medium' sized plant, good for the middle or towards the front of a border. It has a bush habit, like some chamomile, so you can plant even a few Feverfew plants and get a bounty of flowers and the 'filled out' look. It does spread pretty fast, as it does in meadows and other native habitat, so keep on the lookout for other baby Feverfews which you could cultivate and give to friends or sell (if you don't want to have your garden overrun with them). I don't think Feverfew is actually indigenous to Britain, but was originally from Turkey, the Balkans and the Caucuses. It is a pretty widespread plant now though. 'Feverfew' comes from Latin meaning 'fever reducer' ... and medicinally it is really excellent for indeed reducing fevers, but also helps with headaches, arthritis, cramps and digestive difficulties. Bad to take during pregnancy though.

Cultivation: Feverfew is definitely a sun-loving plant, as shown by its sun-like flowers. As a perennial, every autumn it should be cut back down to the ground. Make sure you plant it about 18 inches apart from other plants to give it room to fully grow and fill its space.

Lunar Organics

2009-10-12T06:39:00.000-07:00

I am dead impressed with a new website I just discovered ... http://www.lunarorganics.com/

From what I can tell, this is the baby of a couple who are passionate about biodynamic and lunar gardening. I am definitely going to be getting their calendar and book for next year and now feel inspired to go research biodynamic gardening! Hope you find it useful too ...

Moon Gardening

2009-10-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

The moon gets a bad rep in our Western countries, historically. The moon was considered the source of 'lunacy' and the 'lunatic' (luna = moon), and in medieval times became prey to people's dark repressed imaginings about the shadows of their psyche ... associated with all our modern horror stories ... werewolves, vampires, witches, you name it.

But perhaps there is some grain of truth in those ancient superstitions which became exaggerated. There are definitely ways the moon exerts an influence on our planet. The moon, we know for a scientific fact, by gravitational pull and other forces at work, creates tides in the ocean. This they have found has vast implications with even smaller bodies of water and on our rivers and other water systems. But then just think about the rest of life on this planet. We all depend on water. We find it an integral part of our actual bodies ... blood itself is about 95% water. Apparently our bodies are about 55-60% water. That is over half, folks. Half! So really, if the moon affects the oceans and other water on the planet, why not the half of us that is water?

Women of course follow the moon with this mo(o)nthly cycle of menstruation, and their own hormones, emotions and physical energy wax and wane like the moon. It is possible, more than possible, that before people moved to cities and became very disconnected from the natural cycles, women's menstruation mirrored the cycles of the moon (full moon = ovulation and dark moon = bleeding). How this is connected to the moon, I am not sure, but simply as a woman myself, understand it to be so.

There are plenty of hospital workers and police who will tell you that around the full moon, there is a noticeable rise in incidents of accidents, emergencies, murders, suicides, violence and other shocking or unexpected events. I'm not aware if any statistical studies have been done on this, but I think it would be very interesting to see if this was actually the case. Of course it is possible for the moon to affect the tides of our hormones which govern our emotional and judgmental abilities. It is not a proven fact, but as a hypothesis, I think it is very probably a reality.

The moon's influence also extends to other things. All plant life requires water to survive. That is one of the most basic substances required. The moon in turn does actually strongly affect the cycles of plants too, whether this is connected to sap rising or the cycle of water and glucose that plants use as nutriment ... I am not sure of the actual science, but for centuries, people have been observing and coming to the same conclusions. The cycles of the moon are intricately linked with the cycles of fertility and growth. This is the whole basis behind moon gardening, and more and more people are turning to it as a natural way of working with not only the cycles of the seasons (annual), but also the cycles of the moon (monthly) in their gardens.

Previously, I have been aware of the cycles of the moon and their possible influence on plant life, but I have never really put it to the test. In 2010, I aim to try and roughly follow the phases of the moon and mirror that with work in my garden. I do have two friends though who have been gardening for decades who swear by moon gardening.

So really what then does one 'do' when moon gardening? It's actually pretty simple. The moon has four basic phases -- waxing, full, waning and new. These mirror the cycle of life energy (or call it fertility, productivity, whatever). Growing, blossoming/seed bearing, dying back and gathering energy for Spring renewal.

Below I use the vague word 'energies' to encompass all the processes that go on in a plant. These will be electromagnetic cycles, sap and glucose or photosynthesis cycles, etc. As I don't know all the science behind it, it is safer for me to stick with 'energies'!

1. New Moon: the hidden energies are gathering momentum below the surface. This is the time to transplant or take cuttings, to encourage good strong roots. Also a good time to plant your seeds. Anything that you are doing with the soil (planting, transplanting, manuring, etc).

2. Waxing Moon: the plant energies are manifesting and being directed into new growth. This is the time to prune or trim whatever you want to come back again more vigorously and healthier. This is the time to encourage growth, when the sap is rising and flowing freely.

3. Full Moon: the manifested energies are now at their peak and optimum for the month. This is the time to harvest. Rot and decay is least likely to happen at this point in the cycle because the plants are at their very very best. Harvest your vegetables, flowers ... herbs too for maximum medicinal properties.

4. Waning Moon: the plant energies are falling back into the roots, below the surface, and dying back. This is the time to weed, prune or get rid of whatever you don't want to keep in your garden. Sometimes called the 'barren' moon.

If you really want to get complicated, the moon also each month enters a new astrological sign which can have implications as well, based on other planetary influences besides the moon. I don't really know anything about that and for my own purposes, will leave off from that! Apparently harvest is best in a fire or air sign and planting best in an earth or water sign.

A couple websites I have found of interest (which vary slightly from my list above) and that can give better scientific explanations than me are:

http://www.gardeningbythemoon.com/phases.html
http://www.lunarorganics.com/moon_gardening_questions.html

Plant Profile: Echinacea

2009-10-07T14:26:00.000-07:00

Description: I must admit that I have a real thing for daisy-like flowers--oxeye, black-eyed susan, robinson's ... and of course, the understated but striking Echinacea (purpurea), with its pinky-purple petals and cone-shaped centre which puts me in mind of an arrow pointing to the sun. I love their smell, although it isn't as sweet at Black Eyed Susans (rudbeckia like 'goldsturm') which truly does smell just like honey. Echinacea is a strong, vigorous, upright perennial and tends to grow 3-4 feet tall, possibly taller if it loves where you've put it, so I think it's a good one to put towards the back of a herbaceous border. In the US, I think it blooms sometime in May or early June, but here in Wales and the rest of the northerly UK, we are not quite so favourably seasoned .... July is the typical blooming time around here. I am fairly astounded though at Echinacea's drought tolerance, something it would have to handle back in parts of the US, but here there has been nothing but rain rain rain. Echinacea can handle lots of rain, mind. Their real problem is shade. I find the colour of it to be simultaneously soothing and yet like a pick-me-up. Wonderful to have in a spot of the garden where you might want to sit and stare, like opposite a garden bench, because of its beneficial effects on the senses. Of course Echinacea, herbally, is well known as an immune stimulant and mild anti-depressant. Now there are all sorts of varieties of Echinacea ... white, red, blue-purple, etc. I prefer the old fashioned original.

Cultivation: Echinacea harks from a prairie type of habitat, so it seems to do best in a big landscape, with lots of room to spread itself and gradually multiply over the years. It does fine though in a little garden because it has that wildish or cottagy feel to it, especially if you mix it with the right plants -- sweet cecily, jacob's ladder, lady's mantle and ornamental leeks and onions all complement. If anything though, try and plant it someplace well drained and if you want it to thrive, you must must must plant it in full sun. There are numerous plants that are 'full sun' but actually do fine in partial shade. Echinacea is not one of these. As a perennial, you can enjoy it year after year, but every couple years should probably divide the plant, especially if it starts to get clumpy. If you are trying to grow it from seed yourself, you will need to stratify the seeds. This basically means varying its temperature between hot and warm. This occurs naturally if you plant in mid Spring with cold nights and warm(er) afternoons. A similar effect can be had by refrigerating them for a time then putting them in the sun on a windowsill of your warmest room. To use it herbally, in autumn (after flowering), dig up the plant and remove (a little bit ... not too much or you kill the plant) of the roots. This can be dried and processed and taken in doses, although it is not as effective as it is fresh. I think Echinacea makes lovely wild flower bouquets too.

Winter at the Door

2009-10-01T16:33:00.000-07:00

I am quickly becoming aware at the steady approach of Winter. The days are already getting noticeably shorter, the quality of light feels thicker, more sluggish, and the wind has an unmistakable bite in its mouth that seems to penetrate my clothes, no matter how many layers I wear. And it's only beginning of October!

If I am feeling the cold, I am sure my plants soon will be too. Eek. This means I have a number of things to do in preparation, before the first frosts.

Finish planting my bulbs (I've planted all except the Snowdrops and the Irises)
Dig up plants like my rosemary and lavender and re-pot for winter (I keep plants like them in a more sheltered position, at least for these first couple or few years until I feel they are really well established and are strong enough to brave the full brunt of a bitter Snowdonia winter)
Mark some of my perennials that are disappearing/dying back into the ground like my heartsease and harebells, so that way I don't dig them up before they have a chance in the spring.
Gather some bracken from the quarries and local area, and 'tuck' my plants in for winter. Bracken is an old fashioned way of protecting your ground and by springtime, it will have rotted down into a rich decomposing mixture that can be turned into the soil.

On my Winter 2009 To-Do List:

Treat with wood preservative and put up my little trellis fencing
Build seat under hawthorn tree
Organize my seeds so I know what needs planting when (some stuff needs a full head start, like in February, others can wait until April or even May). This is me just writing a simple list so I can see.
Purchase two round tubs or containers to plant (in Spring) my miniature sweet peas

Otherwise, I am doing very well! I have ALL my seeds for next year purchased ... quite a considerable number too, I must add. I am certainly not going to plant all the seeds I've gotten, only parts of packets, or else I will have the same difficulty I had this past year .... way too many seedlings and nowhere to put them all. Generally I only want a few plants of each anyway, although some like the daisies, black-eyed susans, sunflowers, poppies, etc I do want copious quantities!

For those of you who might possibly read this post .... and if you have a garden ... what do you do to prepare for winter? I think it would be interesting to compare notes.

Who To Choose?

2009-09-29T16:33:00.001-07:00

As gardening has become more and more popular in the last 30 or so years, hundreds, nay tens of thousands of little gardening companies have popped up all over the world. I am a true fan of going down to the local garden centre (not the 'supermarket' versions of B&Q or HomeImprovement etc) but REAL local ones, not only to support local trade, as this is an important part of permaculture ideals, but also because usually the selection is far healthier and happier.

But for those of you who are just starting out gardening, go ahead down to the garden centre, but try not to buy much. Instead get a feel for the plants and the variety out there. Buy a couple garden books too, ones that will help you plan and think through your purchases. Alan Titchmarsh is good. So is Jekka. You need a book that will talk you through the basics! Only go shopping then once you have a clear picture of what you want! Otherwise you will end up (like I have done in the past) with lots of money spent and an array of mis-matched plants that aren't very compatible!

Also, another way to get a good feel for what you want is by going onto online seed, plant and bulb supplier websites. These usually have gorgeous pictures, extensive descriptions and a basic outline of the plant's needs. All important in helping you choose wisely.

Personally, I end up buying about 3/4th my seeds and bulbs from such websites. These are usually fairly easy to send away for and they are much more eco-friendly to ship than whole plants! Also, with seeds anyway, I find that often garden centres don't have the actual native plants I want, but varieties and altered versions thereof, so sometimes I have to send away if I wish to get the real thing.

Otherwise, I try to avoid buying live plants through the post/online, and only make such purchases in person. If I were to get all eco about it, it's really just trying to reduce the miles such purchases come.

This year I have bought mainly from two companies:

Chilterns Seeds (specializing in many hard to find native plants and wildflowers)
J Parker Bulbs (cheapest bulbs I've found anywhere .. ever with huge variety)

and a little bit from Crocus, who sell plants, which was at the time a necessary choice. Autumn and Winter are the gardener's time for choosing one's seeds and plants for the following year, so be bold! And for those of you who don't have a garden, why not try growing a couple things in pots next year? You might find it surprisingly satisfying, like I did last spring when I found a whole new love.

Plant Profile: Yarrow

2009-09-29T15:52:00.000-07:00

Description: Not sure why, but I feel like I've known Yarrow all my life. When I was a kid who thought herbalism was cool stuff, for some reason Yarrow (achillea millefolium) stuck in my head above all others, although I don't think I ever actually saw one in the flesh until I was about 18. It's one of those plants that you expect to be rather delicate, by the look of its so so soft feathery leaves and its infinitesimally minute but thousand-flowered flower heads, almost like lace. But in actuality, Yarrow is sturdy, drought resistant and independent minded. Plant it in one spot, it will turn up someplace else (Lady's Mantle has that propensity too!). In my garden, I don't force things into certain places. I try and plant them where they might most want to go but if they decide to move, I let them (unless in some cases, this is not ideal for other plants, which sometimes happens). But Yarrow is one of those perennials that you don't mind too much sidling its way in amongst other plants, because often it just peeps its head of flowers out and smiles at you, but otherwise, Yarrow is far from a bully. Perhaps grows about 1 ft or more tall, maybe 1 1/2 ft, but otherwise unless you get a very tall variety, Yarrow uplifts the rest of the plants around it without ever dominating the show. Although don't get me wrong, it looks gorgeous planted in drifts on its own! I love it cut in vases on my dressing table, and it has a herby odor that's pleasant. Yarrow was traditionally called 'woundwort' or 'staunchwort' because applying it, crushed, to a wound helps stop the bleeding.You can't beat the old fashioned white yarrow (which I often find in fields, meadows or large swathes of grass), which is how it is found in the wild, but I am very much taken with the more modern varieties of 'Cloth of Gold' (above) and 'Cerise Queen' (right) -- one golden yellow and the other magenta red. Oo la la!

Cultivation: Yarrow desires plenty of sun (to germinate the seeds, they need light too, be warned!), well-drained almost dry soil, not too rich, planted amongst other friendly plants that might help support it. It's natural habitat is out amongst the grass, but it does well too with lavenders, rosemary, sage, etc. I think purple sage and the 'Cerise Queen' variety would look fabulous together and might try that next year. Yarrow despises wet soil though and also is particularly annoyed by wet weather .... the flowers droop and so sometimes, you might have to stake them, especially if your weather is as wet as ours is in West Wales! Otherwise, Yarrow is a fairly gracious and understanding individual.

Plant Profile: Globe Thistle

2009-09-29T14:13:00.000-07:00

Description: Of all the other 'flowers' and plants in my garden, Globe Thistle (echinops bannaticus) definitely stands alone. It is just so 'different' from everything else in my little cottage plot, which I think helps it 'pop' out at the viewer. I really really love globe thistle though! It's so 'weird' because unlike 'normal' thistles, this one produces truly spherical ... globe shaped ... heads. They remind me of dandelions that have turned to feather seeds, except the globe thistle's 'flowers' are hundreds of little spikes. It's the leaves that hurt though, not the flowers, like all thistles. Yeow! It is certainly a plant you must respect, but it is fairly friendly, so don't worry. It has great presence in a garden (can grow up to 3 feet tall), what some experts call 'architectural value' in that it is a strong character around which you can build. I have noticed before that it somehow brings out the best looks in any flowers of the echinacea or daisy type. Especially purple echinaceas though, because most globe thistles are metallicy purple-ish, and the colours enhance one another. It is also one of those somehow effortlessly easy plants to grow, so probably would be on my Top Ten for Beginners list. Mmm. Yes. Globe Thistle can withstand cold and heat, and develops much like a bush. It is one of those perennials that is fun to watch 'return' to life in the Spring. Sometimes after a particularly hard winter, the leaves go all dry and papery, but in the spring, it's like the life blood has returned to them. The leaves miraculously revive and by end of June, it's ready to reveal its true gems--the globe thistle flowers.

Cultivation: Such a joy to tend! If growing from seed, plant in March or April. Otherwise, plant out your plantling when the ground is soft enough (so past frost time). It really thrives on poor soil, so don't mess around enriching the ground. Just give it plenty of space to express itself, perhaps planting it with some of its friends (echinacea, daisy, veronica, lady's mantle or lavender are all good) in the middle or towards the back of a border. It doesn't really mind whether you plant it in full sun or partial shade, but don't hide it in full shade or I think it might get depressed. Honestly. It needs to be with its friends who are usually sun-loving. After flowering, cut it back right down to the ground. It will reward you by coming back with more flowers, more bush, more pizazz! I have noticed that sometimes in spring or autumn, if it seems it's not doing much, you will need to lift and divide them, which can be nice in the long run as you get a little colony started, and my do they look really stunning all together.

Plant Profile: Jacob's Ladder

2009-09-29T12:37:00.000-07:00

Description: One of the loveliest blue flowers I know out there, polemonium caeruleum is actually a native perennial to Britain. Jacob's Ladder is one of those native perennials that likes shade. Its deep green leaves emerge opposing one another, creating a ladder like effect (thus its name), these gradually pushing the plant up to a modest height of 1 1/2 to 2 feet tall. It has a very dignified air actually, almost a sense of being blue-blooded, but not in a fussy way. More of a ancient wise man feeling. Its flowers are stunning, almost like little faery bonnets, so dainty yet elegant, lavendery-blue with orangey-yellow stamens and centres. It's a lovely flower to have around Midsummer (it flowers in June). For me personally, it is an excellent companion in the garden, and perfect for wildflower arrangements. I associate it with the Tylwyth Teg or Sidhe (the Fair Folk) of Celtic legend, and so at Midsummer (the Fair Folk's time) I like to leave out little floral offerings for them. Jacob's Ladder is usually part of those. Although it is a 'perennial' technically, I am aware that sometimes it can be short lived. Also, some varieties you can buy are actually not perennials at all, but annuals. So if you want the perennial (and as a perennial, it is fairly hardy), stick to the 'original'. Even when it is short lived, Jacob's Ladder seeds freely, so no doubt after a year or two, you'll discover you have other baby Jacob's Ladders just waiting to take their parent's place! Isn't that always the way? Haha!

Cultivation: Jacob's Ladder prefers partial shade. It sort of does ok in full shade or full sun, but if you want it to really do well (and I sincerely hope you do!) then give it what it wants. Partial shade. Plenty of good rich soil (but not too over-rich. Remember wild flowers often don't need 'rich' food like fussy annuals and special varieties). Plenty of regular watering, but well-drained. To encourage more flowers, cut back old flowers. In autumn, I'd advise tidying the individual plant up which means trimming it down to its 'basic' shape and removing whatever stems are sticking up. Make sure to 'tuck' it in for the winter by surrounding it with mulch, dead leaves, dead bracken, etc. If it was growing in the wild naturally, trees nearby would help provide this, but you need to do it instead (unless of course you plant it with a deciduous tree!).

Planning Is Like Permaculture

2009-08-30T04:59:00.000-07:00

I am well aware that I've not posted one blessed thing on this blog for nearly 2 months, 2 months which are actually the most 'productive' times of the gardening year (June-August) ... and that is part of the reason! This summer, not only have I been working 5-6 days a week, but then the long hours of extra daylight in the evenings were not spent sat indoors writing posts but actually out in amongst my plants and the trees and wind passing over. That has done me an enormous amount of good that no blog post could ever capture!

Many of the things I have done have basically been inherently simple tasks -- weeding, tidying, observing new flowers and growth, watering, deadheading old flowers and trimming over-rampant growth that threatens to kill off other plants ... even just sitting and singing in my garden. The simplicity and gentleness of these activities was like a balm, after the mad rush of tourist work, then being able to let loose the edges of my mind and feel at ease and grounded again.

But now ... now, autumn is approaching fast upon us and the majority of the plants in my garden are settling down for the long British winter ahead. Already the nights are too chilly to sit out in without a shawl or coat and the wind has a bite in it. Even the early morning smell has changed into autumn. I can almost smell new classes, apples and berries and Calan Gaeaf (welsh, Hallowe'en) in the air.

Autumn in the garden, for me anyway, means a number of things (perhaps I will post about that another time) ... but one of my favorite parts of Autumnal gardening is .... planning for next year!!! Autumn and winter are the times when I purchase the majority of my seeds for next spring, but also my bulbs (to be planted in Autumn anyway). So for the last fortnight or so, I've been raiding all and any seed and bulb catalogues I can get my hands on, perusing my favourite online companies, making lists, lists and more lists. And I have finally put some of that hard earned money from this summer into buying a number of seeds and bulbs. And I am so so so excited!

But then why is planning my garden like permaculture (thus this post's title)?

Well permaculture itself is basically striving for a permanent culture ... not in the sense of eternal, but one that is far more ecologically long-term and is not full of false economy like so much of commercialism is. To me, permaculture is thinking your actions through fully with what knowledge you have, and trying to be as ethical and responsible with your choices as possible. In my own private observations, I think that most permanent cultures out there (such as many indigenous peoples) are actually the ones who leave the least permanent traces of themselves (and therein lies the irony!). Such living though takes a great deal of planning, of thinking through, of listening to what you can see and sense and what people used to see and sense too. Local tradition has its place in that, in helping make wiser place-oriented decisions.

So in my own garden planning, as I seek to approach my gardening in a sacred, MINDFUL way, permaculture inspires my planning. Almost all the seeds and bulbs I purchased are, on the outset, more expensive than say, cheap annual seeds. I have had to make an investment. Starting with the basics last year, I now have a foundation to work on, and continuing this year, I have looked to local plants and bulbs, but also to primarily anything that is perennial.

Really, permaculture is less about creating a permanent culture (which can be misleading) and more about promoting perennial culture. Planning is just like that then. You think through your options. You look to the long run and into the future. You consider long and short term goals and how to achieve them. You look at how it can be most feasible, most productive, most possible. Then you go out and do it.

Much of the industrial societies we live in now promote lack of planning, carelessness, an ignorance about the effects of our choices. We don't know how the products we buy were made or what justices or injustices were done to get them to us. And for a lot of people who I have talked to, they don't want to know either! They'd rather remain ignorant.

I still feel that a garden based solely on annuals is just a reflection of this kind of ignorance and lack of thinking things through. Although often annuals are much cheaper to purchase than perennials and bulbs, in the long run, you only have to buy perennials and bulbs once. They are easy to take cuttings from and propogate ... and bulbs often multiply and need dividing after a couple years. In other words, perennials and bulbs freely give of themselves. But annuals you have to buy every year, year after year. Annuals strike me the same as paper cups and plates. By the time people spend money on repeatedly purchasing such 'one time use' items over a long period, they could have bought hundreds of long-term items ... like real dinnerware sets ... or perennials and bulbs.

See what I mean? True planning goes hand in hand with permaculture, and you can't do one without touching on the other.

Work in the Garden

2009-06-17T16:29:00.000-07:00

Today, thank goodness, it rained. It hasn't rained properly here for over four weeks, and today we got over 2 inches! It has been quite the task over the last month with all the hot weather, taking out sometimes 10 or more huge watering cans to the parched plants in my garden.

I am also relieved over the rain because yesterday I had a major plant-out! My prides-and-joys from Crocus arrived and so I had lots to do. Let's see. The moerheim beauty (a name much more preferable to 'sneezeweed' don't you think?!) was gorgeous and tall. Also I was delighted with the strong scent of my russian sage. I planted my Jane Phillips iris too. I am waiting to plant my two japanese clematises though until my bench seat is built. At least that's the plan.

When I had a nose through my seed trays, I noticed that most of my borage was ready to plant out, and definitely my sweet rocket was ready. So those both were planted, and I also planted some thyme and some woad! The woad I put towards the back of the garden where hopefully it will be protected from the strong north winds that often come ripping though our valley.

My lavender is in full bud and my first rose of the season has begun blooming! Even my toadflax is making its purple appearance known. The honeysuckle is out, so fragrant that the whole garden is filled with heaven's kiss, and the first of my calendula/marigold flowers is just about to unfurl. It is TRULY amazing, to think most of these things blooming and being in my garden came from my own hard work and love .... although I certainly can't take all the credit really. I am even more amazed at how Nature does it again and again and again ... creating beauty and life time after time.

Yesterday I also tidied up the garden. I had a few plants to reposition, because they'd been telling me how they needed a better place. Hopefully my accommodations for them will suit, and I'll have happier, healthier plants.

If that is anything I have learned since gardening, it is just how much you have to be observant and listen to what is going on beneath you and around you, or else things just won't work for you. I suppose that is just the way of life, the natural patterns. Working with them means you get the best out of them.

Another reason for the wild gardening and permaculture approach. Otherwise, we're actually shooting ourselves in the feet and then expect them to dance!

Summer Shower

2009-06-08T19:59:00.000-07:00

4th June 2008

The rain falls down
and I with it,
sliding between the crack of stones
into soil, soft and compressed
around my muddy form,
resting there, trickling, spreading
my surface out into the darkness,
knowing there are thousands more
like me
who seek once more, to
kneel on the earth and dissolve into
peace.

Photos from the Garden

2009-06-03T19:02:00.000-07:00

Yep you're looking at it. It's about 14 ft by 20 feet. On the left is where the sunniest patch is almost all day, so I plant all my sun-loving plants there (at present there is lavender, mini sunflower, sweet peas, calendula/marigold, foxtail lily, lady's mantle, rosemary, sage, leeks, onions and corgettes ) .... this photo makes it look like there's hardly anything there but it's there alright! The plan is to get a picket fence (how droll!) and also an arbor to act like a door.

This is my hawthorn tree and the shadier part of the garden. In the front there where it will still get plenty of sun are my poppies and cornflowers, but hidden in the back under the tree's shade is my periwinkle and astilbe. Where the white chair is is where I am building a bench.

And this here are all my seed trays!

Gypsophila galore! Talk about overkill .... I am gonna have it coming out my ears this year!

Garden Update

2009-06-02T14:54:00.001-07:00

Today I planted out my two corgette plants (for you American readers, that's a zucchini!) and also my little baby huckleberry bush. It's been so hot and dry the last five days or so that every evening I've been having to cart out at least TEN (yes 10) big watering cans of H2O to my garden and seed trays in order to keep everything surviving. Actually, I must be doing something right because everything is pretty much flourishing except for the occasional scorched leaf. My sweet peas have doubled size. My lavender is on the brink of bursting into over-the-top flowering. My onions that I recently planted--now have six of them poking their green heads through the soil surface. The sunflowers are loving this sunshine. And my wild violet and verbena seedlings are popping out all over the place.

But more exciting than any of that was that I had a splurge of spending on my favorite plant website (http://www.crocus.co.uk/) because there are a few plants that there was no way on earth I was going to manage growing them myself from seed. So today I bought 2 Clematis "Rooguchi" (a gorgeous Japenese clematis, which doesn't grow too tall and has purple bell-like flowers, which I plan to train over my garden seat), 1 beautiful Iris "Jane Phillips" (pale blue with hints of periwinkle blue flowers ... has to be the prettiest iris I have ever seen), 1 Perovskia "Blue Spire" (Russian sage, tall billowing sprays of blue flowers, you will hear more about this sometime on Plant Profile) and last but certainly not least, my favorite--2 Helenium "Moerheim Beauty" (better known as sneezeweed--fiery orangey-red daisy like flowers). So keep your eyes peeled for pictures and interesting stuff like that about these plants and others to come.

In the mean time, I will have to put up pictures of my garden when I next get a chance!!!

Plant Profile: Verbena

2009-06-02T14:24:00.000-07:00

Description: There are many tall flowering plants that are a delight to the gardener. Foxglove and delphiniums are the two classic cottage garden "biggies", but personally, I think a third plant should be added to the list because of its sheer magnetism for bees and space. Meet Verbena bonariensis, better known as just "verbena". There are many reasons why I like verbena. First of all is her en masse clusters of delicious purpley-pink flowers (out from June to September, a decent flowering season) which tower above anything else in your garden, due to verbena's phenomenal average height of 6 feet tall. The stems that hold the flowery bunches branch out from the main stem at an almost 45 degree angle, creating an almost ladder like effect. But what is even more amazing about this plant is that for a tall plant, it's so sturdy. The stems almost border on bamboo-like strength, so much so that if you plant your verbena with other flowers that perhaps have a propensity to flop, then you have created a natural support system for them, thanks to verbena's uniqueness. Because the stem shape is so open and airy, this allows you to plant it virtually anywhere without it getting in the way or hindering other plants. It is perhaps then for this reason perfect for the middle of a border, in the cottage garden style. Another bonus is that butterflies and bees adore this plant, so much so that you can be sure that your garden will always be well pollinated if you include this perennial. One idea might be to plant this around an orchard, to encourage maximum fruit pollination.

Cultivation: This is a fairly hardy perennial although you have to be careful with it over the wintering months. It's best to NOT cut verbena back in autumn, but to leave the long stems on and then only in the spring, when you've observed new growth, can you then cut back the dead stems. This protects the plant otherwise it is very likely to dieback or possibly give up the ghost entirely. You should also make sure to mulch it well in the autumn, like "tucking it in" for the winter with plenty of dead leaves, etc. Otherwise, just plant your verbena in a sunny, well-drained position, well-fed and sheltered if possible (due to its height). If you have planted it in a slightly shady place, the stems might not grow quite so stiff, which is a downside because then you will be running round trying to prop it up, preferably with twigs and gentle props.

Plant Profile: Periwinkle

2009-05-29T14:17:00.001-07:00

Description: Famous for its bluey-purple flowers (from which we get the colour "periwinkle"), Vinca major is one of those plants that you should have very little trouble with because it does best being left to its own devices. Believe it or not, it's actually an evergreen (therefore looks great in your garden all year, even through winter when everything looks fairly dismal) and not just that, but it has the self-satisfaction to also be a trailing vine (to be honest, it always looks like a bush to me ... it's not very "vine" like around where I live). It is indeed a trailing vine because although it is upright, it does send out roots along particularly droopy stems (although the center remains fairly tall -- up to 3 feet/1 meter tall!), which is how it can spread very quickly (be warned! you might need to plant it in a bigger garden space, not a little corner). Its leaves are opposing and a dark glossy green, almost leathery like bay leaves. The flowers are like a five-pointed star, very pretty, and there is often continual blossom from mid-Spring to early or mid-Autumn, which makes this a real stalwart in the garden for constant colour and flower. Not only does it have a long flowering season, but as a perennial, in comparison with most other perennials, this one is a real jewel. It can easily last 20 years, if given the right conditions (see below), and possibly longer. I generally get a sense that periwinkle is "elegant persistance"--it seems to have what it takes to continually offer its soul gifts to the rest of the world. If only we could learn a thing or two from it!

Cultivation: Periwinkles are a true gardener's delight when it comes to care because there is very little involvement on your part (therefore, it's a good one for a cottage garden or even better, a wild garden). Basically, plant it in a shady or semi-shady position, although it doesn't mind the sun ... but it enjoys the company of a friendly tree ... make sure the soil in turn then is well drained but not too rich. It prefers poorer untampered soil, and just a bit of water now and again when it's drier. Otherwise, once established, it is fairly drought resistant (although this may potentially shorten its life). Be careful not to overwater though either. It starts getting the chills and feeling annoyed with your overbearing concern. Sometimes, early in the spring, it is good to pinch/remove some of the stems in order to encourage a really bushy, full, heavy-flowering plant. This is also a good idea if you want to prevent it from becoming too invasive, to give your other plants a chance (unless you're keeping a wild garden). Otherwise, just leave it to itself to make itself content and happy and you should find it accents your garden with all the steadfastness of a close friend.

A Lesson to be Learned

2009-05-28T07:06:00.000-07:00

Well, with all the warm weather we've been having, I shouldn't have been so surprised when I saw that my Gypsophilia seeds germinated in under a week! This year, I've had a few "change of plans" (another way of saying, disappointments!) when it comes to what plants are going to be in my garden (this year anyhow) because a good number of the seeds I've planted haven't come up at all. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that half of all my plant types haven't come up. In one sense, some of the seeds were from friends who'd collected the seeds from their own gardens, so quality cannot always be assured. And other seeds, well they obviously just didn't want to be in my garden -- there are other plans! So that's fine really, and hasn't detracted from my overall experience.

But today, when I went round to check on my seed trays and my latest plantings-out, I am now in a bit of a shock because it looks like ALL of my Gypsophilia has germinated. Omg. WHY did I decide to sprinkle all 200 seeds onto that soil? I have so many Gypsophilia plants I could never give enough away, let alone plant them. Haha, I suppose I will be having Gypsophilia to make up for the other seeds that didn't come through.

It just goes to show a Life Lesson through the metaphors of seeds: Don't sow all your seeds at once. It can either mean nothing happens at all for you (and thus you are stuck with no seeds left over to plant and try again) --or else you have so much result that you can't deal with it. A bit like life really. Apply that lesson, if seeds are like endeavours that you try to plant .... if you try to seed all of them, if none of them come through you'll have nothing to turn to. And if all of them turn out, you'll be unable to deal with all of them anyway. What's that saying--don't put all your eggs in one basket?

Case of the Missing Leeks

2009-05-26T08:23:00.000-07:00

Last night I woke up at some odd hour and suddenly thought to myself --"Whatever happened to those leeks I planted back in March?!" I had utterly forgotten about them and couldn't imagine where their seed tray might have possibly gotten to. Now I know I have brain farts, but this really was quite the slip ... to misplace the national vegetable of Wales! Oh my!

So today after lunch, I went looking. They were nowhere to be seen. I worked back through my mind into all the possibilities, a bit like when I lose my keys or worse, my mobile phone. To no avail so I felt quite bewildered and bethought myself that as the sun was shining and I didn't want to do any essay writing, I'd see what needed doing in my garden. A lot. I know I've been working and studying a lot lately, but sheesh. I had about 20 vintage sweet peas "Painted Lady" to plant out from their seed trays into the garden (that I had ... actually, come to think about it ... planted the same day I planted those mysterious leeks); there was also some more calendula/pot marigolds looking antsy and in need of spreading their roots. And I had about 15 set onions that I should have planted ages ago. Oh and look--my campanula plants seemed a bit scrawny and thin, perhaps they should be planted out too.

I started with the campanula. Very strange this campanula, I was thinking. As far as I knew, it was supposed to be kinda bushier and leafy. This was just chive like stalks. Odd. I got my way through about 10 of these and then fell over backwards at my goof. *DOH* These couldn't possibly be campanula! The more I planted, the more I realized they looked exactly like miniature teeny tiny leeks. But somehow I had labeled the tray as "Campanula". I felt kind of sorry for the leeks--I'd been talking to them for the last two months by the wrong name!

Now I have no idea where my campanula tray is. I'm guessing (unfortunately) the seeds didn't come up, which is a shame cause I really liked the look of them. But after that mixup mystery being solved, I did feel better and managed to successfully plant out my onions, sweet peas and the leeks and calendula. I also moved my yellow foxtail because now that the willow is getting leafier, it has less and less sunlight every day. That will never do because yellow foxtail demand sunlight to produce their amazing "foxtail" flowers.

Otherwise, now I'm just very glad that I did actually buy a campanula plant at Bodnant Gardens, even if it's a different variety than what I planted originally.

Plant Profile: Field Poppy

2009-05-26T03:26:00.000-07:00

Description: Imagine yourself walking out into a great golden field of grass on a hot summer's day, the warm breeze rippling the long grass but also carrying with it, the most gorgeous scents of meadow flowers, spicy, sweet and heady. This is my inner archetype of the meadow or grassland, and one of the major flowers belonging in that great swathe of gorgeous intoxication is Papaver rhoeas which is much more commonly known as the Field Poppy, Corn Poppy (because it grew wild in corn fields along with cornflower and corndaisies--see photo right), Red Poppy, or Flanders Poppy (because of Flanders in the World War). For millions, the common field poppy has come to represent remembering our fallen "warriors" of today and the blood shed they have suffered. Indeed, the red of the red poppy is striking and intense, lit up into an almost glowing brilliance on a full summer's day. I personally associate them with Midsummer, not Remembrance Day. They symbolize more the vibrancy and power of life, typified in the culmination of the Summer Solstice, the height of the sun's pervasive essence, in the annual calendar. Red at a higher level is not just "death" but the transformation of releasing attachments which gives room for higher wisdom, compassion and the path of the boddhisattva.

The corn poppy is technically an annual. Each plant only lasts for one season, but this doesn't really matter because poppies produce a decent amount of seed, thus once established in your garden or wild meadow, they will self-perpetuate themselves. Always a bonus! One of the ways that they work is by covering an area with their seeds (forming a soil seed bank) which then in some cases must be disturbed in order for the seeds to germinate.

The flowers has six petals--3 outer and 3 inner, each flower roughly 2 inches across, which bloom roughly between March and August. Its center are the delicious dark poppy seeds that I love to put on my bread before baking it (poppy goes nicely with sunflower or seseme). The actual flowers can grow about 2 feet in height too, so they can manage nicely in short or long grass, or as part of an informal garden scheme.

Parts of the poppy are indeed poisonous, but the petals can be made into syrup and are good for coughs, and of course the seeds are yummy with bread and other cooking.

Cultivation: If you're interested in growing the field poppy, first make sure you get your seed from a reputable company. When buying wildflower seed, this is important because not all companies are entirely reliable. I got my seeds this year from Thompson and Morgan. Scatter the seeds in autumn or winter in the place where you'd like them to grow the following spring, but you might have to take measures to protect the seeds from hungry birds. If you are sowing the seeds onto bare earth, you'd be better raking a fine tilth on the surface, sowing them in and then carefully walking over them to help "seal" them in for over winter. Come springtime, you might possibly need to lightly fork the earth to "wake" the seeds up. I personally simply plant the seeds in spring in normal seed trays like I do for any other plant because then I can somewhat regulate where I put them. If my poppies do well this year, I might leave them to self-seed if possible. I also recommend inter-planting them with some of the poppy's best mates like the cornflower (the purpley blue and the red look wonderful together--nature couldn't have picked a better colour scheme!) or the corn daisy or corn marigold. These flowers all compliment one another both colour wise and as working together in an ecosystem. I have planted my poppies together with cornflowers and if the poppies and cornflowers establish themselves at all in the next couple years, I want to work in harebells and daisies. Otherwise, there is very little to "do" for poppies. The red poppy loves sun but can also enjoy partial shade as long as its soil is well-drained. They don't need rich soil to do well, and besides watering them regularly, they are in my mind one of the most satisfying wildflowers in the world. Perhaps that is why they are so popular.

History of the Wildflower Meadow

2009-05-25T16:41:00.000-07:00

Of all the flowers in the mede,
Than love I most these flowers white and rede
Soch that men callen dasies in our town.

-- Chaucer

Unfortunately these days we really don't have any idea what a real wildflower meadow looks like. They were very popular motifs in medieval English and Welsh poetry (particularly later on like in Chaucer and Spencer)--but our original idea of a meadow comes from the Anglo Saxon hay mǣd. The mǣd was the ancient grassland on which the Anglo-Saxons grazed their herds, and before them, the Brythonic peoples did the same possibly as far back as 4,000 BC. Meadow was in actuality the original landscape of Britain and Ireland after the last Ice Age, until gradually it became completely covered in forests and woodland. There were still woodland glade meadows back in those days, and the wild boar, auroch, red deer and other ancient animals used to graze from woodland to meadowland with ease and freedom. The hunter-gatherer would have wandered in much the same way, using both the woodland and meadow plants to provide a well-rounded diet. There is no evidence that pre-Neolithic people starved ... only evidence that post-Neolithic people starved thanks to agriculture's habit of "feast and famine" cycle. Based on various evidence, it's been estimated that in Wales, there was mass-clearing of forests in order to make way for grazing around 3,500 BC, as humans in Britain began turning into the "Cattle-Lords and Clansmen" that Nerys Patterson discusses as being the basis Celtic culture--but based on other information, I'd say was actually "indigenous" behaviour before any so-called Celts integrated themselves.

Whether meadows were arrived at by human or other means, they still evolved into becoming a major part of British wildlife. Not only were they places of idyllic and poetic beauty but also, they were and are vital to the biodiversity of British flora and fauna. Apparently, a single meadow can have a density of 30 varieties of plants in a square metre and 120 different species in a field!!!! That is some pretty tightly interwoven balancing going on. Such a rich landscape creates a haven for a myriad of insects, animals, birds and other creatures, allowing enough space for "everyone".

The meadow follows that natural cycle of the year, much like any other part of agriculture. Meadow was basically land that had been left to fallow for a number of years (or perhaps was virgin soil) whilst it was used either to pasture grazing animals or else to mow the resulting "hay" for winter fodder. Mowing of course happened in the autumn, after all the grass and flower seeds had been blown by the wind to settle down for the next spring. This also allows for nesting birds to have raised their young and for butterflies and other such insects to have gone through their transformation stages ... all before the mowers hit the fields.

I think the meadow is an excellent example of mankind carefully working with nature's tendancies and using them to his and her full advantage. Of course the farmer benefits because his stock has feed in either the summer or the winter. But how does nature benefit? Well actually one of the biggest benefits to low-intensity grazing is that it keeps more romping plants like brambles, shrubs and trees at bay, thus allowing for a wider variety of grasses, herbs and flowers to spread about and continue on in their ideally suited conditions.

In Wales where I live, there are also numerous boggy "wet" meadows which are full of rushes and various moisture-loving plants where most trees and other plants would find it difficult to be comfortable. The sheep certainly don't mind!

Modern agriculture views such fodder and pasture as comes from the traditional meadow as "low quality" but I think they must be crazy! First of all, the animals will do better on a wide range of material, not just over-rich alfalfa or other intensive monocultured fields. If the animals are later on to be eaten, the herbs and plants that they ate in their lifetime will have gone into their meat and their milk. For example, I know that goat's milk tastes excellent are certain types of herbage, instead of just "grass". It was also traditional to cook meat based on what plants were in its pasture field .... this maximized the taste of the meat as well as the tenderness. If one must eat meat, this is the way to show respect towards the animal! To give it a good life, on a well-balanced diet, with plenty of healthful plants ... prepared in a mindful and grateful way that employs local custom and flavours. This is the whole idea over "organic" produce.

The wonderful thing about wildflower meadows is that it truly IS the wild garden at its most glorious. You will never really have to do anything besides throw about some wildflower seeds and then mow it once a year. Otherwise, nature does her best in situations where humanity gave up. She takes what we term "infertile" ground and shown us just how amazingly fecund it really is! In fact, wildflowers thrive on "poor" soil ... to them, it is the BEST soil.

What I love about wildflower meadows is the fact that although you can choose from a variety of wildflower seed mixes from seed companies, in the end, it's as simple as going onto the side of the road or along a country path and carefully collecting seeds (although be aware that you must NOT overcollect as this could decimate some wildflower populations ... and also, it is illegal with certain wildflowers so you'd need to do your research) from your local area. In fact, it is vital that you try and sow wildflowers that you know do well in your locality, because that is all part of good and conscientious gardening.

And you don't need a lot of space to do a wildflower garden. Even a little corner of your garden would do. It's amazing what stunning results the natural world has always produced without any or very little of our help! Sheesh--she even produced us, for that matter.

If you are interested in learning more about wildflower or hay meadows, see my link list at the bottom of this page. I personally support the Grassland Trust in Britain.

Wild Mind

2009-05-25T10:00:00.000-07:00

Ooooo, Shambhala Sun has published an article (here) with Gary Snyder on his idea of Wild Mind (I prefer Gregory Bateson's term, the more than conscious mind). I have never once read something, be it poetry or essay, by Gary Snyder and not taken something away that inspired me or raised my thinking or slightly altered my perceptions. I must admit his poetry isn't entirely my cup of tea, but his essays are fantastically frank, clear and grounded. You need that in dialogues about the earth. Romanticism (as much as I am a fan of it) seems to carry with it a lot of dead language. Hope you enjoy the article! I'll close this post with a quote from the article, which funnily tied into my theme/idea of the blog as a "wild mandala":

"One of the models I use now is how an ecosystem resembles a mandala," he explains. "A big Tibetan mandala has many small figures as well as central figures, and each of them has a key role in the picture: they're all essential. The whole thing is an educational tool for understanding-that's where the ecosystem analogy comes in. Every creature, even the little worms and insects, has value. Everything is valuable—that's the measure of the system."

Just Musing About Homesteads

2009-05-24T20:50:00.000-07:00

You know, whenever I try to imagine myself setting up my own home one day, I have a very difficult time imagining it anything other than a homestead. Laura Ingalls Wilder and Gary Snyder have influenced me far too much!

So, thinking of it in the most basic terms, what would be some of the important or desirable elements of such a homestead?

as self-powered and heated as possible (for example, can heat the water and house with fireplaces and for the rest of the house energy, use solar power, even a generator) .. this also means having a house that is built properly with good thick walls etc
buttery lined with slate for cool house ... and would learn various alternative ways of preserving food besides refrigeration ... although deep freezer would probably be very very useful
oven based on wood-burning or other solid fuel (like an Aga can be)
organic gardening as the rule--taking inspiration from permaculture systems of agriculture
local wild plants (for food, etc)
careful use of rainwater and other water sources
looking at alternative healthcare through herbalism, apitherapy, aromatherapy, acupuncture, etc
bees are a must --on behalf of the whole homestead system
if keeping livestock, chickens, a pig, couple goats, cats and some big dogs are I feel the happy minimum or medium
actively support local wildlife conservation (wildflowers, plants, birds, butterflies and moths, etc)
for local nearby travel--either walk, bicycle or ride a horse

If I was living in the US, I would probably definitely need AC and a fridge, but over here, you can get by without either .... and in the summer here, if there was a freak hot spell, a little fridge running off of a battery or solar power would do fine. I don't really want to give up my laptop or the phone, or the car for long distances ... and I think a weed strimmer would be useful. I can't particularly think of anything else at the moment. Can you?

Garden as Mandala

2009-05-24T16:43:00.000-07:00

If you look at traditional mandalas, they are more than just intricate pictures to stare at in meditation. They are synthesis of microcosm and macrocosm, inner world and outer world, enlightenment and confusion or ignorance, space and shape ... because of this union, mandalas embody reality as it really is ... what in Vajrayana Buddhism is seen as a sacred landscape of the Pure Buddha Realm --that is, an all-encompassing reality that is deeper and higher than our dualisms and our samsara. I like how traditional mandalas often try to bring together all the elements, and all the directions (not just East, South, West and North either) and all the "levels" of reality together into one interconnecting design.

Gardens are very similar if you think about it ... or can be. They are the synthesis of wild and tame, human and more-than-human, inner landscape and outer landscape ... the union of earth, air, water and light ... they use all the elements to grow and live; and they are part of both earth and sky, and all the directions.

I find out in the garden I can sense the "deep union" of all things easiest. There is a way of entering communion and finding my at-one-ment in the singular quiet of soil, the patient thrust of plants, the delicious wafts of dampness and rain ... slowing down to the rhythm of the earth's heart beat. Bending down to look at things in my garden and tend them, I can almost hear her inaudible in-breath and out-breath, a mother's soft breathing with the babe at her breast. That is how I feel in the garden.

I have even decided that in my garden, I will take this idea of mandala one step further. I want to actually arrange things at the four directional corners of my garden to represent those directions. That is something for me to think on in the next month or so. Also, the hawthorn tree is I feel a bit like the sacred center or axis mundi of my garden .... I used to have a little slate slab beneath her which I left offerings of cake and milk etc on from time to time .... but now I am building a bench there because I love her so much. The altar will need going someplace though.

If one really wanted to take the garden as mandala even deeper, he or she could actually design the plantings and borders into sacred geometrical shapes and knotworks like has been done in old times gone by. My garden isn't big enough really and I prefer the informality of the cottage garden over the rigour of a shaped garden.

But I think the whole point is not to create a garden that looks like a mandala, but instead to create a garden that is indeed a sacred space, a place where you can open yourself to greater thoughts, and greater awarenesses .... where you can be inspired and transformed. It can also symbolize the different stages of spiritual growth and learning truth .... and you can grow plants in it that represent to you various things you want to cultivate in your life, like borage for courage, roses for love, etc. Gill calls this a "spiritual garden". I rather like that ... but in a similar way, it is a mandala.

Nothing can help you face the transcience of life in all its beauty, fragility and meaningfulness as a garden can. You watch plants grow, flourish, fade and die, over and over and over. The cycle continues--yet life carries on pretty much the same as it always has, year after year. This is one of the realizations that mandalas are supposed to help teach.

When I am faced with my garden, my thoughts go outwards and beyond me. I can't help feeling like I am only one little blossom in a huge glorious and ancient garden called the universe.

Plant Profile: Black-Eyed Susan

2009-05-24T04:08:00.000-07:00

Description: Rudbeckia fulgida "Goldsturm" is a heady variety of the American Cone-flower better known as Black-Eyed Susans. I remember them from my childhood, popular in American gardens because of their sunny, handsome beauty that was friendly and warm. Black-Eyed Susans can grow up to 2 feet or so tall and bend about gracefully on thin, upright stalks that are reminiscent of sunflowers. They look brilliant planted singly or in huge drifts--although I prefer the big drifts which give maximum impact. Black-Eyed Susans always make any garden look lovely, but are especially good in cottage and informal gardens due to their welcoming manner. I just love their golden yellow petals and black centers (each flower is about 5 inches in diameter), and how they flower around August to October, because lots of flowers are dying down in the garden by then, but Black-Eyed Susans give a boost of energy. They even look dramatic in winter, if you leave the flowerheads on which stay black and stark. This particular variety "Goldsturm" has won numerous prizes and really is one of the prettiest varieties out there that I know of.

Care: Black-Eyed Susans need a lot of sun to generate that happy-go-lucky warm feeling, so plant it in full sun, but also make sure that it's towards the middle of a border or near a protective wall because it needs slightly-moist feet. Dry soil can reduce the amount of flowers it produces. In autumn or spring, you should lift out the plant base(s) and be sure to divide them if they are getting congested (or else they will just strangle one another and impede spreading). When the flower stems go up, you will also need to stake them individually, although see how it goes. If you take care to divide and spread Black-Eyed Susans year after year, before you know it, you will have a mature and breath-taking drift of them which provides instant cheerfulness to where-ever they are.

Garden Update

2009-05-24T03:56:00.001-07:00

I was so pleased to go outside this morning and discover that my wild violets and snapdragons have both started germinating and poking the tiniest of heads up through the soil. Still waiting on the woad, borage and gypsophilia to emerge. Other than that, I only have some vegetable seeds to plant when the weather gets a tad warmer, and then I'll be worried more about helping them grow than getting them planted.

This was the first year where I've really grown a majority of my plants from seed, and it was the most amazing feeling ever! I actually had very little faith when I planted my first seeds, and yet the day my sweet peas first showed their hungry heads, I actually cried because there was something so sacred, so ancient about watching life emerge out of the dark silent soil. Before that moment, I was only mildly interested in gardening and plants, but after that deep soul-rooted pleasure, it was like my blood turned green and my very core demanded I work with the natural processes of plants. Gardening has turned out to be a sudden passion for me (hopefully one that will carry on and not dissipate after this year) and one of the most rewarding and inspiring things I've turned to.

Plant Profile: False Goatsbeard

2009-05-24T03:23:00.000-07:00

Description: I am in love with Astilbe arendsii "Fanal" because this particular variety of Astilbe is a dark moody plant, with autumnal-looking reddish/dark green leaves with an almost lace-like cut to them and the most glorious crimson red flowers which look akin to feather dusters mated with ferns! They are marvelous to touch, run your hands through, kiss, rub your face on .... you will just want to touch their flowery plumes over and over, I promise. It also is nice that although the flowers can reach a height of 2 or so feet, they do not flop over or need staking, but self-support with an almost elusive independence. The flowers emerge around June, depending on the weather. There is definitely an air of romance around this astilbe, a melancholy beauty that is at the same time vibrant and impetuous.

Care: This plant needs a partner that will protect it--planting it in partial shade below a tree (although not complete shade!) is a good idea because the flowers and leaves do best there. It is a rapidly spreading plant too, so give it room (at least 2 feet in diameter) to make the impact it so longs to give! It likes wet feet, to the point that it would do quite happily in a bog or on the edge of your pond, and will love you forever if you plant it in sticky clay soil which holds moisture. If your soil isn't quite so wet or moisture-holding, you will have to plant it in shade then, or else it just won't thrive. For the first year or so while it is establishing itself, you will need to water it regularly and as often as possible to give it the best start in life. Then every 3-4 years, carefully dig up the roots, split them, making sure to remove the hard, woody rhizomes (which can detract later on from the plant on the whole) and replant. You should cover the space around this plant with mulch and dead leaves before the first frosts to help protect it through the winter. Springtime, make sure to feed it will with manure, compost and other organic matter.

Plant Profile: Foxtail Lily

2009-05-24T02:28:00.000-07:00

Description: Eremurus stenophyllus is one of the most striking perennials that I can think of having in your garden--especially if it's a wild garden or a cottage garden. It is a pretty hardy and long-lived plant by and large, and not only is it sometimes 3 feet or more in height, at least 1 ft of that is its tall, bristle-brush-like flowers, which come in the colours of yellow, orange and white. The long spikey shape is actually a bit like a foxglove--composed of many little individual star-shaped blossoms which give a real 'wow' effect. They are very sunny plants, full of a stunning "light" that almost glows in the dark and really stands out proud--especially around early and midsummer. With my yellow foxtail lily, I couldn't get over how the roots are this amazing flourescent yellow!

Care: I have noticed though that if you are planting it in a cottage garden, take care to surround it with medium-sized perennials or plants because the leaves are particularly droopy after a while and can look as sad as daffodil and bluebell leaves after a heavy blossoming. If you are thinking of growing your own foxtail lilies, they need to be planted in full sun in rich, sandy or alkaline soil that allows for good drainage and space for them to spread their complex root system. Make sure you do plant it in the sunniest spot in your garden because shade on the crown of the plant can actually reduce your number of blossoms. They do like to have space too, so don't crowd it out with other plants, especially if the other plants are fast-growing (because foxtail lilies are slow-average growers and you've got to give them a chance!). Also, every 3-5 years, they should be split and replanted, but to really make sure your foxtail lily establishes itself, re-plant the biggest clumps on top of a layer of grit, splaying out the roots to encourage growth and then covering the roots with soil. I also advise covering the areas around them in autumn with some kind of mulch or dead leaves etc as this is Nature's way of protecting from heavy frosts.

Hardy Perennials: Wild Nature at her best

2009-05-22T18:34:00.000-07:00

Of course, one of the most exciting parts of planning a new garden is choosing which plants are to go into the space. All the garden designers instruct you to consider not just colour, but also scent, taste, texture, height, space, structure, soil type, whether it likes sun or shade, wet or dry feet--and the element of time (in different seasons, the plant will change). But I think there is something more to it than just that. You should also consider not just the "environmental" impact or factors of your plant, but also the "spiritual" impact or factors it brings with it too. What kind of atmosphere does it evoke? What kind of response do you feel towards it? Is there a sense of a personal connection--even a relationship--between you and that plant?

For me, my garden feels like a natural extension of the flora and fauna of my area .... the only difference is that it is near my house and I carefully arrange, plan and roughly care-take it, more than I would beyond the garden walls (although beyond, I do things like pick up litter and am trying to get involved with indigenous plant conservation). But note the words "my area"; I am far more concerned with creating a garden that reflects and blends with the locality and its characteristics, in a 'wild' more-than-human way ... instead of designing some "fabulous" fanciful garden that is very different and unlike where I live.

When I think of Nature with a big N (so not just the natural world, but EVERYTHING), I always come back to Gary Snyder, one of my favorite authors and thinkers. He said in his essay The Etiquette of Freedom,

Most of the senses in this … set of definitions come very close to being how the Chinese define the term Dao, the way of Great Nature: eluding analysis, beyond categories, self-organizing, self-informing, playful, surprising, impermanent, insubstantial, independent, complete, orderly, unmediated, freely manifesting, self-authenticating, self-willed, complex, quite simple, Both empty and real at the same time. In some cases we might call it sacred. It is not far from the Buddhist term Dharma with its original senses of forming and firming.

Basically, he points out that if you look up the definition of "wild" in the OED, you realize that wild is not defined by what it is, but by what it is NOT--and that is, non-human, without human interference. But Gary Snyder continues to say that actually, the Wild is basically where life continues on at its fullest potential, self-continuing, self-propagating, self-seeding, self-caring ... year after year after year. These are essentially our perennial plants--or if they are "annuals", their children continue on thanks to self-seeding, etc like wildflowers do.

Otherwise, most annuals seem to be the product of much human meddling. And so it's no wonder that they are half-hardy or not hardy at all, and the most open to various "diseases" and ailments in the plant world. All thanks to us ... which is why we have to put so much work into them!

Technically I cannot grow a completely wild garden because at one level or another, I will have been meddling, even if that is planting native species, bettering the soil with home-grown compost, or tidying up the area .... it's still my interference. But at the same time, as I have been choosing my garden plants, I've chosen as many hardy perennials or wildflowers as possible. In this sense, I want to leave them to be "wild" with as little intervention on my part as is manageable (although I will weed some grass out ....).

Hardy Perennials and wildflowers, even grass, are really the epitome of "wild" ... they are Nature at her best, at her healthiest, and why would I want to intercede? One group that I am joining is the Hardy Plant Society. http://www.hardy-plant.org.uk/ .... you should check it out if you feel similarly to me.

Is Nature then inherently wild? As in ... although we see ourselves as deviated from the wild (although not the natural--we are part of Nature, part of all things and beings) .... is that really true? Perhaps it is in our wild nature to create a sense of order. Perhaps our wild side is drawn to favouring certain plants over others and making gardens or farms ... or favouring certain animals and making them pets or farm animals. I don't know .... I do feel though that the root of our human nature is wildness. Wild versus Human is just an illusion on our part.

Thus we return to the Dao. Ah me.

My First Post--Blog Intoduction

2009-05-21T20:42:00.000-07:00

"Happiness is to hold flowers in both hands." -Japanese saying

It is nearly dawn outside my window. The early summer birds are beginning their full-throated song as the dew of a new day just begins to catch the first glimmers of light. It is on these grey misty mornings that I feel most lucid, with green mountain pastures reflecting a deep verdant oneness overflowing from my inner heart-spring.

Just beyond my window is my garden. It's not that big but it's big enough--about 20 ft x 10 ft, inherited from my "adopted" mother with whom I live. The entire garden is much larger, but I am lucky to have the space given to me. It felt like a sacred charge when I first began to cut into the virgin turf, and nothing could satisfy my inner archaeologist quite so much as how I discovered copious fragments of broken pottery and china buried all over my particular corner. Pieces to a glazed bread puncheon, and an old-fashioned jam crock, various chinas ranging from traditional blue-and-white to my favourite piece--dark pink with gold guilt edging--not to mention all the broken flower pots and terracotta bits jumbled in with the roots and soil.

When I first began work on clearing the ground back in March 2009, I felt as though my hopes for a garden would never materialize. My garden was basically a strip of lawn along the south-facing side of the house, with a hawthorn on one side, a willow on the other, and a flowering current bush on a third side. These mature plants had roots that covered the entire surface of my ground space, therefore it was really a case of me digging up the roots, cutting off the harmless ones and reburying the important roots.

Gradually my ideas began to formulate. I wanted a path which you stepped down onto, and the raised beds being level with the normal ground beyond the garden--this was to give the effect of stepping into another place. I knew I wanted plenty of perennials and wildflowers and herbs in the cottage garden, informal style. I wanted blues, purples, reds and yellows. And I wanted a seat.

This blog then is at surface level a place for me to share my experiences, ideas and resources for my garden. But at the same time, I want to take gardening even deeper than that. Gardening, for me, is an act of mindfulness and active alignment with the cosmos/world around me. In that sense, my garden acts as a mandala ... a focusing point to access "being" and the true nature of life.

In this way, I approach my garden as a sacred space and want to work into it different levels of focus and alignment. I feel very strongly about "the wild" and believe that the wild is actually our ultimate home in the world--it is the essence of our souls and beings. In this sense, I am not interested in horticulture to the extent of manipulating nature genetically, nor do I particularly want to create a rigid straight-lined garden. I want something volumptuous, seductive, delightful, sensual, fairly self-continuing and self-fulfilling. I want it to welcome whatever creatures wish to share in its mini-ecosystem with open arms. This is why I have chosen a cottage garden type style.

Mandalas are so intricately inter-woven, yet their lines are clearly defined and orderly. I wish to create a more wild and chaotic mandala with my garden though--and thus this is why the blog is entitled "Wild Mandala Growing" ... because essentially then my garden is a wild mandala growing day-by-day, moment-by-moment.

And so, ultimately, my garden is to celebrate Life and its sacredness. Hopefully you will join me along the journey as I explore ways in which to do so through the mindful art of gardening.