The "Dog Days of Summer"

The Elizabeth Lawrence Garden fares amazingly well through the long dry periods we call the "dog days of summer".  (The dry spell started far too early this year... months before the traditional "dogs days" begin!)  The soil is so well-drained and the 5' elevation change of the property means any much-appreciated rain or city water disappears astonishingly rapidly.

Even so, phloxes bloom fluffy bunch after fluffy bunch, roses continue to open delicate cups of soft fragrance, Rudbeckia 'Henry Eihlers' still dazzles with spiky yellow stars of slender tube-shaped petals, doll's daisy (Boltonia asteroides) dances like a sliver of the milky way, and the ironweed's royal purple blooms sway in the slightest breeze.  Swallowtail butterflies flit from puff to puff of the joe pye weed (Eutrochium purpureum) while checkered skippers light on blooms of lantana and verbena-on-a-stick (Verbena bonariensis).  Every once in a while, the staccato chirp of a hummingbird is heard near any of several species of Salvia in the garden.  And that's just a small list of blooms to be enjoyed - by all garden visitors!

Visit Miss Lawrence's garden for a refreshing retreat from the draining heat of the dog days of summer.  Open Fridays and Saturdays, 10 - 5.   

Botanical Mystery Solved!

"I love being asked to identify plants, and I don’t know which gives me more pleasure: to know what they are or not to know what they are."

- Elizabeth Lawrence

Charlotte Observer

February 23, 1969 

As I stood in Miss Lawrence's garden on a sunny Saturday in early May, talking with Katie Mullen (former Elizabeth Lawrence Garden Associate and Marco Polo Stufano Fellow), I noticed blooms in the top of a narrowly conical evergreen tree on the east property line.  This is the first time I've seen any blooms on this tree since I've worked here.  I interrupted myself mid-sentence to point it out to Katie.  "I've been thinking that was some sort of Gordonia - loosely according to Miss Lawrence's records and not having seen a bloom ... but that's no Gordonia." I could feel the rush of adrenaline - I just adore solving a good botanical mystery.

We immediately went over to it and struggled to pull a branch down just far enough to snip off some small flowering branches.  We took the blooms into Miss Lawrence's studio for closer examination, and easier access to her index card database and bloom journals.  (That is usually the first place I go to solve botanical mysteries in her garden.)

Katie immediately whipped out her iPhone and started searching online.  She noted that the bark reminded her of a Prunus.  She followed her instincts, delving deeper into the cyberspace library as I, in true luddite fashion, flipped through Miss Lawrence's index cards.  No more than two minutes passed when Katie landed on a blog post and began reading the description given there of Prunus lyonii.  Sure enough, the flowers matched up beautifully to what was blooming here - a raceme of sweetly fragrant, white, wax-flower-esque blooms.  I imagine if I paid closer attention to an ever-present landscaper favorite go-to foundation shrub, Otto Luyken laurel, their flowers would be much the same.

So that helped narrow my search of Miss Lawrence's records, but I wasn't totally convinced of the tree's identity, yet.  I came across an index card describing Prunus illicifolia, which nearly perfectly fit the tree that stands like a rocket hiding behind two large Camellias.  But the evergreen leaves of the tree in the garden were only 2 1/2" long... shorter than those described.  I turned to Miss Lawrence's reference library for confirmation, plucking The Flowering Trees of California off the shelf.  There, I found exactly what I needed - the exact match of the plant before me: Prunus illicifolia ssp. lyonii.  Eureka!

Although I was a little sad that the internet seemed to initially trump a good old-fashioned paper search, it really only more quickly lighted the narrowing paper trail which ultimately led to the answer.  Regardless, the mystery is solved!  After years of admiring this fairly small but statuesque broad-leaved evergreen tree, now knowing its true identity is a small triumph - another small piece of the puzzle of Miss Lawrence's garden... this amazing garden that still provides plenty of inspiration, discovery, and botanical mysteries.

Until next time, I remain

Yours in Dirt,

Andrea

Are you cruel enough to be a gardener?

For the past four years, I have kept a close eye on Miss Lawrence's Camellia sasanqua hedge at the sidewalk. It was not uncommon to see evidence of scale in the hedge, which had been kept sheared. Scale is an insect pest that feeds on plants by piercing plant tissue and sucking sap... literally sucking the life out of a plant. All kinds of scale like close, dark, humid quarters. In an effort to create a less hospitable environment for it, I thinned out some of the densest parts of the hedge last year. The intention was to increase air circulation and light.  While performing an annual plant assessment this winter, I realized that the scale infestation was quite severe. This was confirmed by local experts and members of my garden committee, as well as my gardening colleagues, Ben, Damou, and Danny, who have been battling scale on the oldest camellias in the Clarkson Garden.

During the process of educating myself on these nasty little vampiric creatures, I learned that there are several different species - most of which were attacking the hedge. Most were on the undersides of the leaves, but a lot were also on the limbs. Not good. Some species of scale are "easier" to control than others, but none are exactly "easy" to completely eradicate. So what does one do in a case like this?

Scale on the undersides of the leaves...

...and on the limbs.  Yuck.

The most important thing: do whatever I can to keep existing plants happy and healthy.  I weighed all of my options, keeping firmly in mind that many of the plants in the hedge are nearly 70 years old. Behind door number one, the less radical treatment - a regimen of chemical drenches, periodic spraying and pruning - over the course of years - which may or may not be completely effective in the end. (Ugh) Behind door number two, the more radical approach - renovate the hedge by pruning it way back, giving it a chance to regenerate with clean, healthy foliage that can be strategically pruned as it grows. (Seems drastic) And finally, behind door number three, the most radical approach - completely remove the existing hedge and start over. (Can you say "last resort"?)

It wasn't an easy decision, but the best option - and definitely most environmentally-friendly - was behind door number two: rejuvenation pruning... or, as I like to think of it, pressing the "reset" button.  Older plants usually respond better to hard pruning; they have well-established root systems that enable quicker regeneration. Plant maturity is definitely on my side for this one!

So Ben, Damou, Danny and I set to work, and in one afternoon, completed the first pass.  It's best to start off a pruning project like this by being a bit conservative with your cuts... you can always prune off more later. And I did.

After the first pass of rejuvenation pruning

Rejuvenation pruning complete!

Sometimes older gardens present difficult situations.  Hard decisions must be made.  Such was the case with the sudden death of most of Miss Lawrence's witch hazel, Hamamelis x intermedia 'Jelena', which required the same type of severe pruning.  Thankfully, that turned out to be a success story.  I remain ever-hopeful (crossing my fingers, toes, and nose hairs) that rejuvenating Miss Lawrence's Camellia sasanqua hedge will reap similar results.  I suppose I am, after all, cruel enough to be a gardener.

It's a Blooming Winter!

"It seems to me that there is never a time when some living thing is not pushing up from the ground, and that at the beginning of the year there is a more vital stirring."

- Elizabeth Lawrence, Gardens in Winter

There are many wonderful winter blooms in Miss Lawrence's Garden right now. A few that she loved have become ones I, too, most cherish.  I thought I'd better capture their images today - before the rain and colder temperatures set in tomorrow.

Amur Adonis (Adonis amurensis 'Fuku Jukai')  Rare, nearly impossible to establish, this is not a plant for the faint of heart. The blooms remain perfect for weeks on end, come rain, snow, or below freezing temps. Every year that it begins to bloom tells me I haven't killed it, yet. Pshew!

Snowdrops (Galanthus sp.)  These easily-cultivated woodland charmers are a pristine delight no matter the weather, and, as with many little bulbs, are best planted en masse.  I can't talk enough about how awesome these are!

Roman Hyacinths (Hyacinthus orientalis)  These are not your run-of-the-mill hyacinths; these are the true original white hyacinths still blooming early every year in old southern gardens.  They come close to blooming on New Year's Day.  And the fragrance... oh, such sweet aroma!  They are the first hyacinths to bloom in Miss Lawrence's Garden.

Chinese Witchhazel (Hamamelis mollis 'Wisley Supreme')  A feast to the nose and the eye, this witchhazel greets me near the front door of Miss Lawrence's house with the cheeriest yellow blooms, and a delicate clean scent.  It's a great way to start the work day.  This was one of Elizabeth Lawrence's favorite winter blooming plants.

Come by soon to see what else is blooming; contrary to popular opinion, winter is a fantastic time to see flowers in Miss Lawrence's Garden.  (It's so great, she even wrote a whole book about Gardens in Winter.  It's my favorite of her manuscripts.  Grab a copy if you find one; it's out of print.)

Yours in Dirt,

Andrea

A Month in Pictures

In more ways than one, it is so much easier to be in Elizabeth Lawrence's garden than it is to be on the computer.  When I'm on the computer, my ADD kicks into high gear.  I head into "Wonderland" with one focus: search for sources of different new (and old) plant material to test in the garden.  Before I know it, I've perused no fewer than 10 blogs, 15 nursery websites, 4 public garden databases, 6 flickr image galleries, 8 gardening forums ... and the list goes on.  At the end of it all, I've spent two hours inside, nearly feeling as if I've wasted time but all the while reminding myself this is part of researching plant material.

Don't get me wrong: I have found some GREAT plants this way.  Lots of great plants, actually.  And I have learned a ton of great information... about most of which I remain somewhat skeptical because it is, after all, the internet.  I also gain a lot of inspiration, which is a wonderful thing that keeps me engaged on so many levels.  But at the end of it, I am a bit exhausted.  A bit spent.  A bit in need of serenity.

When I'm in the garden, time seems to stand still.  Nothing else matters except that visceral connection I feel to Elizabeth and her world.  I take time to really study the garden.  I get down on the ground to appreciate a new perspective.  I hold a bruised leaf to my nose to see if I can discern any fragrance.  I weed an area - always carefully - searching for freshly uncovered bulbs emerging from dormancy.  I have found SO much in this garden.  Countless discoveries have come above the ground, but equally as many beneath the soil... partially rusted plant tags still boasting Elizabeth's handwritten identification, gnarled plant stakes, stone edging long covered over with layers of soil, mulch and leaf litter.  Even bulbs that hadn't seen the light of day in years.  There's always cool stuff to see here.  And the best way to see it, if you're not sitting on my shoulder while I'm digging around in the garden, is through a camera lens.

I take a LOT of pictures.  Since November 2010, I have taken 3,307 in this garden.  All of those pictures do no one but myself any good if I don't share.  But don't expect the garden to look the same when you come to visit.  Elizabeth was fond of saying, "You have not seen my garden.  You have only seen it TODAY."

So here is a month in pictures in the Elizabeth Lawrence Garden.  Enjoy.

Yours in Dirt,
Andrea Sprott

The original door knocker, adorned with holiday greenery, welcomes me to work every day.

December 3
This Camellia sasanqua has been blooming since September.

The feathery texture of the foliage of Spiraea x arguta (garland spirea) still original to Miss Lawrence

I wish you could smell this Chimonanthus praecox - winter sweet.  Intoxicatingly wonderful fragrance!

Illicium anisatum - Japanese anise
This one blooms more than 6 months of the year!

A camellia seedling I want to register with the American Camellia Society as Camellia 'Lindie Wilson',
in honor of the woman who saved this garden and loved it for 23 years.

Helleborus torquatus (species Hellebore) generously donated to the garden by Pine Knot Farms. 

A fun plant combination: Acorus gramineus 'Ogon', Lychnis coronaria, and Tanacetum parthenium 'Aureum'

My very favorite species camellia, Camellia saluenensis, still original to Miss Lawrence.

The path is bordered by Camellia saluenensis blooms. This camellia blooms from late October through March.

Physostegia virginiana 'Vivid' (obedient plant) still strutting her stuff in December.

Gentiana andrewsii (bottle gentian)

December 31A recently transplanted clump of Adonis amurensis 'Fuku Jukai' is preparing to say "Hello Winter!"

Helleborus niger 'HGC' (Christmas Rose)

It's snowdrops season!

I've been working to beef up this mass of Galanthus elwesii, and it's paying off.

Groups of cyclamen and the "Lindie Wilson" camellia to the left, snowdrops to the right

A fun discovery: a reverse-variegated Alstroemeria psittacina (peruvian lily)

A bloom of Camellia japonica 'White Empress' that escaped the frost.