The Breathtaking Blues

I do not discriminate when it comes to color in the garden.  I plant pinks, reds, yellows, blues, purples, oranges, whites, and foliage of every color and texture.  But, nothing seems to take my breath away like the blues.

Snapshot does not do justice to the plants

I’ve got a variety of blues in the garden – creeping phlox, Johnson’s Blue geranium, Baptisia Australis, Cornflower, catmint, salvia, lupines, bearded Iris, and Siberian iris.  Many of them are on the west hill, and when I come down the walk from the garage to the front of the house, the sea of blue gets me every time!  So, I guess even though I plant all colors, I’d have to say that the blues are my favorite.  No other color affects me like the blues.

I like to have bouquets from the garden – for myself and to take with me when I visit people during the growing season.  I keep a variety of inexpensive vases and a collection of ribbon.  Here’s a blue bouquet I made the other night to take to a walleye and wine evening with some friends.

Do you have a favorite color in the garden?  Or, do you plant and appreciate all colors equally?

Sorting Seeds

Right before Labor Day, I took a couple days of vacation to build a compost bin and install the stone steps in the west hill. I didn’t accomplish either of those projects. The weather didn’t cooperate fully. And, truthfully, although my heart was in it, my body just wasn’t up to it. So, I puttered. I planted here; I weeded there. I moved things around and mulched.

And, a funny thing happened when I was puttering here and there--I noticed the seed pods and seed heads. When I was mulching the lupine hill, I noticed the coreopsis had set seeds. When I was weeding the rose corner, I notice the stellas had seed pods. And, when I was watering the herbs, I noticed that the cilantro had turned to coriander.

So, I got out my seed sorting equipment and spent the afternoon sifting and sorting seeds. I like my plastic Tupperware colander for the first round of coriander and lupine seeds. The chaff and stems stick to the plastic rim and I can clear it off with my finger. After most of the chaff and stems are gone, I can pour them into the smaller strainer. Then, they can go into the baggies. The coreopsis was harder to sift and sort. And, if you’ve ever seen a coreopsis seed, you don’t have to wonder why one of the common names is tick-seed.

Stellas don’t really need any sifting, you just pour them out of the seed pods into your hand (or the baggie)—unless, an earwig comes out of the seed pod with the seeds, in which case, the seeds get scattered from here to kingdom come while you’re doing the ookie bug dance on the sidewalk. Thankfully, they’re big, shiny diamond shaped seeds that are pretty easy to see. So, I was able to recover some of them.

Seeds made an appearance at our neighborhood plant swap today, too. More on that tomorrow. Carol brought Baptisia seeds. Mary Kaye brought 4 o’clock seeds, and Theresa brought perennial hibiscus seeds. The hibiscus pods are so interesting, I asked her to hold them in her hand for a snapshot before giving them away!

I guess the point of my meandering, puttering tale is that if I had stuck to the plan and built the compost bin and installed the stone steps, I most likely would have missed the opportunity to collect and save the seeds from some of my favorite plants!

Accidental Archaeologist

I can’t remember the first time I thought it would be cool to be an archaeologist. I know it was by time I was in junior high school, because that’s when Lucy was found in Ethiopia. The fact that people and buildings and whole villages were buried beneath the ground we were walking around on interested me immensely. The fact that archaeologists could look at fragments found at these sites and tell stories about what those people looked like and ate and used for tools was even more interesting to me. I never became an archaeologist, but was interested enough to take several years of courses at university.

The other day, I was digging a hole so I could move the baptisia, and came across this nail. It’s round and about 6 inches long. I’ve seen similar nails in Norway, but not here in the US. The nails I found in Norway were from a construction about a century earlier than my house.



A few years ago, I did some research on my house and know it was built in 1916. But, I don’t know anything about construction materials that would have been used at that time. Could a nail like this have been used in the construction of my house?! I guess my next research project is going to be about early 20th century construction materials!

Have you found anything interesting or surprising in your gardens? Post a comment and share your story!