by Meg Lynch, editor

Yes, it’s August, but I’m looking for Christmas gifts. Oh, not to actually buy—I’m definitely not that organized—but to show in our December/January issue, which we’re working on right now. Each year we run a page of holiday gift ideas, to help you shop for the gardeners in your life (or to help you write your own wish list!).

I think the best gift to give is one you’ve enjoyed receiving yourself. Last year my mother gave me this miniature greenhouse. She knows I’d love to have a full-size one someday. Moms are great at helping you dream!

I’d love to hear about your favorite gardening gifts. What has someone given you because you’re a gardener? Let me know and I’ll look for it or something similar to put on the gift-idea page in our winter issue. Leave a comment below, or join the thread I'm starting in our Forum.

And here’s one store that carries a mini greenhouse like mine.

Looking forward to seeing your ideas. Thanks!

by Meg Lynch, editor

At the start of the summer I moved all of my houseplants outdoors. It’s a vacation for them—they can enjoy the fresh air. I admit it’s a welcome vacation for me, too! I basically let them fend for themselves while they’re out there, though I do water them now and then. (Most are under trees, so they don’t get much rain.)

Don’t get me wrong. I love my houseplants. I like what they do for my décor and I like taking care of them. I find it rewarding and fun and generally a good way to unwind. But I have an awful lot of plants! Putting them outside lets me (a) open/close the windows more easily and (b) spend my “plant time” in the outdoor garden. This is its season, after all.

I do keep a few plants inside though. I guess I’m playing favorites. Besides my living stones, which would surely rot outside, I held back these two pots of succulents. The round pot has Aloe ‘Blue Elf’ (rear), some sort of haworthia (left) and Haworthia attenuata ‘Variegata’ (right), which is a pup of the plant in the other pot. Something about this little group makes me want to keep it close.

Do you have plants that you baby? I'd love to hear about them. Leave a comment here or join us in the Forum.

by Meg Lynch, Editor

My friend Lynn gave me a prickly pear cactus last year after we attended a lecture by a cactus and succulent expert. We had been surprised to learn that there are cactus, chiefly the Eastern prickly pear (Opuntia humifusa), that will grow in our area (northern Massachusetts), and when she came across a couple for sale at a farm stand she bought them so we could see for ourselves.

I planted mine in a frost-proof terra-cotta pot. For extra insurance against the pot cracking or the plant dying, I shoved it under the deck last fall, where it would be protected over the winter by the latticework, blown leaves and snowdrifts.

This past spring I pulled it out again, and the plant looked like a deflated balloon but as the temperature climbed it filled out again. In the meantime a few big weeds sprouted in the pot, which I pulled out with some effort. They were sturdy weeds!

Well, this past weekend I noticed a chipmunk sitting with the prickly pear, munching something. Then it dove down into the pot and came up munching again. My sister was over here and she snapped a photo. Later we looked in the pot. There were acorn shells all over the soil surface, and a deep hole full of more acorn shells. Apparently the chipmunk had buried some nuts in the pot last fall, probably when it was under the deck. I wonder if he has been looking for his stash all summer.

Those big weeds that sprouted make sense now—they were oak seedlings.

Share your animal adventures in our Forum.

by Meg Lynch, Editor

I have a couple perennials in my small front garden, but mostly I like to use this space to experiment with annuals. This year I designed my plan around sherbet flavors—lemon, orange, raspberry, watermelon. I ordered seeds of annuals that fit this color scheme.

But this year the garden just didn’t work out as I planned. (I mentioned that to my co-worker Jill yesterday and she said, “Well isn’t that what happens in gardening?” Good point!) It started out well. I won’t get into my excuses for why it all went downhill. They’re pretty typical—maybe you’ve used them too.

At this point, all I have is the pair of perennials (Helenium ‘Mardi Gras’ and Coreopsis ‘Limerock Dream’) and the Johnny-jump-ups that self-sowed.

But I also have nasturtiums! Indian cress nasturtiums, or Tropaeolum majus, the only part of my seed order to survive the summer (knock on wood). I think I sowed three seeds to a hole. I know I didn’t thin the seedlings when they sprouted, as I should have. But that seems a happy thing now, because the plants take up a good amount of space that would otherwise be empty. Their big leaves, which I love, hide a lot of bare ground. And they just started blooming over the weekend.

Some of the flowers are bright orange and some are golden orange, with nice markings in their throats. Nasturtiums are edible but I won’t be trying these because they grow right at the edge of the road. Tropaeolum majus is a climbing type of nasturtium, but I’ve been letting mine ramble instead of tying it up.

Voluptuousness abounds in my container garden this summer. The Proven Winnersplants we received as trials for next year's growing season are amazing. Here are a couple shots—one of my favorites is the lantana (Citrus Blend). How does your garden grow? Come to the forum and share your summer stories and photos.

Now that the dust has settled after the move of the Horticulture home office from Boston to Cincinnati, I’ll be here on the blog and in our forum more frequently. I’m looking forward to getting to know you, and hope you’ll help us build our online community. You, our readers, are our #1 priority, and we want to facilitate greater dialog among us.

I invite you to write to me when you have a concern about the magazine, an idea for a story, a complaint or kudos. Tell me what you want to see more or less of, or not at all. Open and honest communication is one of my passions, and I’ll make every effort to respond to your emails in a timely fashion. Here’s my email: edit@hortmag.com

By way of introduction:

•I blog, therefore I am

•My wings are made of words

•I’m a yogini, hiker, reader, gardener—these keep me grounded

•I’m a seeker of truth, an agent for change

•I’m a mother (one daughter, age 25, who’s married and happy—what a blessing)

•I’m happily single, still live in my hometown, own a condo (which gives me time to hike, read and practice yoga!)

•I’m wild about muscle cars (odd addition to the list, but true—give me a ’69 Chevy SS and an open road and I’m gone!)

•I believe in the power of peace and love

We’re hard at work on the October/November issue and duty calls. Thank you for being here.

Peace and love to you and yours.

Patty Craft

 managing editor

by Meg Lynch, Editor

Last year I planted Johnny-jumps-ups (Viola cornuta) in my front garden. This year, true to their common name, these annuals have reappeared, “jumping up” from seed last year’s plants dropped.

Or at least I thought their common name referred to their tendency to self-sow and reappear. Now I’m wondering if it has anything to do with their ability to climb. See, the plants in my garden this year have grown much taller than the 6 or 8 inches typical of Viola cornuta. They are using my perennial sneezeweed (Helenium ‘Mardi Gras’) as a ladder. The tallest bloom is about 16 inches high.

The sneezeweed won’t bloom for a couple more weeks, and neither will the nearby coreopsis and nasturtiums. The Johnny-jump-ups have been a great filler, with their purple and yellow blooms.  

I didn’t plan on this – I wasn’t even sure the little violets would come up at all. So it’s a great example of the way plants can add to a garden’s design all on their own.

How have plants surprised you in your garden? Leave a comment below or chime in at our Forum.

by Jessie Gridley, Associate Editor

I fell in love with the botanical world while working in a flower shop as a water girl eight years ago. The job was simple: water, deadhead and try not to kill anything while the florists were away.

Prom time came with Mother’s Day the very next day. For those of you not in the floral business, Mother’s Day is the pinnacle of busy days—trailing in sons and daughters of every age. An extra set of hands was needed to patch together tardy corsage orders for brace-faced boys. I did OK, which meant that it was time for me to be taught the florist’s trade.

From that point on, I looked forward to spending my holidays home from college, where I switched majors from plant biology to journalism, working creatively as a florist.  I discovered that every fresh-flower customer had a story, which I know is the same for all of you avid gardeners.

There was the widower, a kind crouching old man who came in at the same time and day every week to by a single red rose to lay on the grave of his wife. The regulars did not need an occasion to decorate their homes with fresh blooms. And of course there were the celebrators, grievers and countless lovers, whose special moments (good and bad) I was able to be a part of.

Being around flowers and those with similar passions enlivened me, just as I know working with Horticulture as an associate editor, and with all of its passionate readers (yes, you), will too. Time has passed, and although I’ve switched to the journalism field, I’ll always be a water girl.

What is your story? How did you become enamored with the botanical world? Leave a comment below, or post your thoughts in our Forum.

by Meg Lynch, Editor

We had a few colder-than-average, rainy days (over the weekend, naturally) but now the weather is sunny and warm here. We are past the last-expected-frost date in my area, but the nights are still chilly. I'm looking forward to planting annuals out front in a couple weeks. In the meantime I have some seeds to sow out there. I went out today to get the area ready—weed seedlings are popping up everywhere and I wanted to clear them out.

Our "Organic Approach" columnist, Peter Garnham, recommends attacking weeds with a sharp hoe while they are young and still resemble little threads with tiny leaves. At that stage they can't reroot themselves after you simply dislodge them from the soil with your hoe. I followed Peter's advice and went out this morning, when there were plenty of freshly sprouted weeds after the weekend's rain. The earth was still a bit damp, but not soggy—the best conditions for easily pulling bigger weeds' roots up out of the soil.

Instead of a hoe, I used a tool that's new to me but popular among some of Horticulture's readers: the Cobrahead. I quickly found out why it has so many fans. The makers describe its sharp head as a "steel fingernail," which is really accurate. You just grip the handle and pick away, as if you are scraping something with your nail. I was surprised at how precisely I could maneuver it. I zeroed right in on weeds big and small and scooped them up by their roots. I just severed the really tiny ones and scratched them back into the soil.

And it seems like the Cobrahead will be a good tool to use when I plant my seeds and seedlings later—it works as a digger, too.

Visit the Cobrahead website

Our May issue features an article on chickens and their place in the garden, by Peter Garnham. The photos with the article show Barbara Emerson's hens, which she got last spring. Barb will be blogging about her chickens over the next several weeks. Last week she welcomed some new chicks to her flock. Below is her report.—Meg

So far six of the eight baby chicks I am expecting have reached their new home….joining their adult “cousins” that are featured in the May issue of Horticulture. It had been quite a journey for them, but surprisingly they were quite boisterous when I put them in the cardboard box they will call home until they feather out and can move outside. All are heritage breeds. There are two Polish and two Rose-Combed Leghorns chickens for me, and two Rhode Island Reds for my friend and chicken-raising mentor, Dave. Soon to come are two Barred Rock chicks for Dave.

Here is a bit about the trip they made. Fertile eggs take about 20 days to hatch. These chicks were born on Friday, April 4, in Iowa (at Murray McMurray Hatchery). They were mailed through the USPS on Saturday, April 5, to my friend Norm on the South Shore of Massachusetts. (The majority of mail-order poultry companies require a minimum order of 25—our eight chicks were part of a larger order Norm made.)

When they are mailed, all the chicks are crowded into a smallish box and this keeps them warm for the trip from the hatchery. They aren’t meant to eat or drink for two days after hatching, so they can use up the remaining yolk that has been feeding them during the hatching process. So not having food and water while they are in the mail system is OK.

Early last Monday morning, Norm got a call to pick them up at his local post office. As soon as he got home from the post office, Norm dipped each chick’s beak in water to clue her in about how to drink. Norm is an experienced chicken raiser and he said this is the most active group he has ever seen and they all survived the trip. It is not unusual to lose one or two.

I picked up our chicks from him on Wednesday and drove them to my home on the North Shore. We asked for my and Dave's eight to come labeled so that we could tell them apart from Norm's chicks, which are a different breed. But there was a miscommunication and two were not labeled. No problem there—we’ll call Murray McMurray and get details about how the Barred Rock chicks look, and Norm will i.d. them and bring them to me this week to join the others.

Lots of travel for anyone, let alone a baby chick!—Barb

by Meg Lynch, Editor

I sowed seeds of cosmos, marigold, and love-in-a-puff last weekend (indoors).

I like to start my seeds in individual pots, instead of flats. I’ve found that the cardboard cases that juice and tonic bottles come in make good trays for the pots. I can easily move them all at once to the sink for watering and to a brighter position once the seedlings sprout.

The cardboard is very sturdy, since it is meant to carry glass bottles. The plastic liner that wraps around it makes it even sturdier and somewhat waterproof.

This was a 12-pack of Snapple iced tea, and 9 three-inch pots fit well in it. Last year I used a 24-pack to hold 48 one-inch pots.

by Meg Lynch, Editor

First, thanks to all for the comments on my previous post about Gerard the living stone. I do have seedlings as well as Gerard, which I started last summer. I'll try to get a picture of them—but they are still really tiny, so I'm not sure how the picture will come out.

In the meantime . . . the New England Spring Flower Show is going on in Boston this week. Sara and I were at the show last night, when the theme was "Plant Geeks." (That's us, I guess—and proud of it!)

At our table, we ran the "Plant Geeks Olympics," a 10-question quiz. Halfway through the night we decided it was a bit on the too-hard side, but everybody was a great sport about it and had fun, which is really what the show, our quiz, and gardening is all about. We had a good time talking to fellow gardeners and taking in the beautiful garden displays. (And the music of the player piano stationed near our table. Will I ever get "Margaritaville" out of my head?)

Here are the questions on our quiz. Answers appear at the bottom of this post.

1.    Agapanthus is native to which country:

a.    Egypt
b.    Algeria
c.    South Africa
d.    India

2.    There are over 3,000 registered named varieties of which plant:

a.    hosta
b.    astilbe
c.    clematis
d.    daisy

3.    The genus name of flowering tobacco is _________________.

4.    Aronia arbutifolia, Fothergilla major, Itea virginica, Rhus copallina are good native alternatives for this invasive ornamental plant: __________________

5.    Cape fuchsia is the common name for:

a.    Fuchsia magellenica
b.    Phygelius capensis
c.    Oenoethera canadensis
d.    Dicentra spectabilis

6.    There is a blue impatiens. True or False?

7.    What is the new genus name for coleus? ______________

8.    How can a gardener identify a plant in the Mint family? __________________

9.    ‘Cosmic Purple’ is a cultivar of what kind of vegetable? ______________________

10.    Botanically pronounced, Cotoneaster rhymes with “Easter” or “Faster”?

ANSWERS:
1. c, South Africa
2. a, Hosta
3. Nicotiana
4. We were looking for burning bush (Euonymous alatus)
5. b, Phygelius capensis
6. True
7. Solenostemon
8. The plant has square stems
9. Carrot
10. Faster (co-tone-ee-AST-er)

by Meg Lynch, Editor

Another sure sign of spring, for me, is when my living stone (Lithops sp.) begins to shed its old body—which is really just pairs of water-filled leaves.

This is a succulent plant native to South Africa, where it sits low in the ground, protected from grazing animals by its pebble-like appearance. I had wanted a living stone for a couple years before I finally found a local greenhouse that had some.  It was July 15, 2002, to be exact—I noted it in the cactus and succulent diary that I kept at the time:

“LIVING STONES!!!     !!!     !!! Very excited! One is greenish and the other grayish/peachish—they look good and I will take careful care of them!”

At some point soon thereafter the gray one died, though I don’t seem to have noted it.

On March 1, 2003, I mention that lately the still-living living stone, the green one, which I dubbed Gerard, “started to open a pinhole and that turned into a large oval-shaped separation and inside there are what look like tiny Gerards.” I had been hoping it was going to flower. But it was just going through the routine of a living stone: to shed its leaves each year, revealing new leaves inside. Sometimes they open to show more pairs than the last year, and form large clumps this way. (Gerard has held steady at two pairs.)

It has done this right around the middle of February every year since. It takes a couple months for the old leaves to completely shrivel away. All of my references say not to water a living stone at all until it has finished this routine, but toward the end I do give it a little water. I think it helps to move the process along—the new leaves swell up with water, and as they do they shrug the old leaves farther off.

Read more about living stones

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