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Talking Tools

5/24/2016

This past weekend was Bedrock Gardens first Open House for 2016, and you can bet there was a fair amount of work done in preparation for it. In case you are wondering how many professional crew members armed with heavy equipment swarmed the gardens in advance, the answer is none. Instead, owner and keeper-of-the-beds Jill Nooney credits much of the work to her two favorite tools, a hand hoe and and old army spade.

On a recent spring volunteer clean-up day, the only time the little hoe left Jill's hand was to poise briefly, hooked by its blade in her back pocket, while she paused to answer questions or made her way along to the next unwitting garden bed.

A hand tool with a metal shaft and a sharp triangular blade, the hoe is literally Jill's right hand for weeding and cultivating, offering the control and precision that you can't get with a long-handled hoe. It can also dig ("in a pinch," says Jill), furrow, and cover seed. Best of all, its sharp edge cuts weed roots right below the soil line. (She keeps hers sharpened on a grinding wheel.)

"I like it because it allows you to extend your arm under shrubs," she says. "I tend to weed fast and furiously, disturbing the top inch or so of soil by scraping it. My habit is to leave the uprooted weeds in the bed--if they are not full of seeds, that is--or I toss them on the grass to dry out. They get finished off with the mower next time around."

In the photo, you can see Jill's less-expensive, right- and left-handed models, as well as a pricier stainless steel one. "All work well, but the head has come off the cheaper ones more than once," says Jill. "Luckily I have a welding shop."

Whatever the little-hoe-that-could can't handle, the dogged, if droll, army shovel can. "It's perfect for small and medium jobs," Jill explains. "I find trowels annoyingly small and do not use them. When kneeling I can plunge the shovel with the blade facing me and pull it toward me to make a sizable hole. I can step on the sides to pry out a fairly deep rooted phlox. Since I garden a lot on my hands and knees, it is perfect."

The right tools don't just make a gardener; used with Jill's expertise, creativity, and wit, they also help make stunning gardens. ~ Lisa O'Brien

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Putrid Pollination

5/9/2016

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Okay, native plant aficionados: What member of the large Annonaceae family of tropical trees is a temperate native of the eastern United States? Hint: It produces a delicate, custard-like, banana-apple-ish fruit that’s almost guaranteed not to be found in commercial markets.

Answer: the indigenous American pawpaw, Asimina triloba, and it is in residence at Bedrock Gardens. The pawpaw is native to the eastern U.S., from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes. It's a favorite of kayakers, who pluck its fruit from riverbanks, and rural folk who know where to find its stands. But although it’s been snacked on by mankind for centuries (it was a favorite of both Thomas Jefferson and Lewis and Clark), it’s rarely cultivated.

One reason for this may be that its fruits fall to the ground when ripe, bruise easily, and are highly perishable. (Pick them too early though, and they’ll refuse to ripen.) Another, as discovered by Bedrock’s Jill Nooney, is that pollination is tricky, so yearly fruit set is not guaranteed: “Two years ago I had so much fruit I was giving it away at the fall Open House,” she says. “Last year there were a couple flowers but no fruit.”

Portent of good things to come?

Along with the tricky fruit set comes the disagreeably fetid smell of the pawpaw’s blooms. It’s so reminiscent of rotting flesh that the only pollinators it attracts are carnivorous flies and beetles. To increase pollination and ensure fruit production, Jill has decided to employ the old-time, hard-boiled method: that of hanging a decomposing animal carcass in the tree to attract the bluebottle carrion fly. The unwitting subject hanging in Bedrock’s pawpaw is a rather gnarly, road-killed squirrel.

You can find the pawpaw by the Baxis at Bedrock. Its fruits ripen in September. If it proves successful, squirrel’s death will cede exotic (and magically delicious) new life.

Oh, and no worries: We promise to take the little feller down by May’s Open House!
-- Lisa Peters O'Brien

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Now You See It...

5/2/2016

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Mother Nature is at her most playful in early Spring, as if the euphoria of regreening the earth is more than she can contain. Her exuberance spills over into impishness: “Pay attention to me or you’ll miss it!,” she says, often producing flights of fancy that last mere days. Here are some highlights from Bedrock Gardens, lest you miss the mischief:

The Syneilesis family of long-stemmed, spiky-leafed perennials from East Asia is one such flash-in-the-pan, pushing up little fuzzy, ghost-like creatures that seemingly float across late April’s lackluster landscape. Only days later, the plants herald the coming season of sun-soaked leisure, turning into little cocktail umbrellas that could adorn the best frozen drinks of summer.

The umbrella plant pictured with the mayapple, above right, can be found in the Petit Pond area of Bedrock Gardens. Spring appearances can be deceiving, however, as the umbrella plant will, by late spring, tower over the large-lobed mayapple, creating a two-foot-high flat-topped canopy, best viewed in all its serrated splendor from the Tea House above.

Spring is the magical snake charmer of the stunning ephemeral, Arisaema ringens (cobra lily), coaxing the stalk and glossy green trifoliate leaves from their protective, dun-colored sheath. The cobra is the Japanese relation to the eastern North American native, A. triphyllum (Jack-in-the-pulpit)--the one that, if you were lucky enough to roam the woods as a child, was a delightful treasure when discovered. The cobra is as much as a foot larger though, emerging “much like a foal from a mare,” says Bedrock owner Jill Nooney. “You can’t imagine that all of that leggy plant could come out” of the delicate, dotted leaf base.
Next, from the center of the leaf stalk ascends the cobra head: a purple-and-green or green-and-white striped spathe with a black-purple hood. Most of the cobra lilies observe their predatory postures through May, only to emerge again for a glimpse the following spring. In yet another farcical twist, some Arisaema become hermaphroditic, producing a cluster of red berries in mid- to late-summer which become visible as the spathe withers.

Another woodland sprite featured at Bedrock is Helleborus foetidus, an evergreen perennial whose chartreuse blossoms are actually long-lived. The trick to witnessing it is to be in the garden in late winter through April.

Like it’s cousin, the Lenten Rose (H. orientalis), H. foetidus often pokes through a blanket of snow, it’s bell-shaped flowers trumpeting the coming of spring. Unlike it, its leaves are spectacular: dark green, deeply lobed, and lance-shaped, even overwintering in milder zone 5 winters. Foetidus refers to “fetid,” but we can find no malodorous smell. Blooms can be cut for an early spring floral arrangement, but be sure to leave some faded flower stalks in place till early summer: “H. foetidus self seeds respectfully,” says Jill, ensuring nearly year-round interest for generations to come. -- Lisa Peters O'Brien

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Talking Tools

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Now You See It...

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