Swanky Birdfeeder, Wild Quinine, Decent Coneflowers

Let's define decent coneflowers: none of those freaks with fluffy pom poms where the seed head should be, but the geneticists put the thing too close to radiation and well, you know, strange things started happening. Do NOT get me started on this.

Below we shall enjoy, shall shall shall, views of the garden--now grown to twice its girth in the last two weeks. We shall partake in the lovely colors, and more importantly, textures. We shall ignore the portion by the fence on the small hill where not much works yet (dry in summer, wet in winter / spring where it's shaded and ice lingers while other parts of the garden are greening up).

And oh, do we have a birdfeeder for you hip cats....


















I usually have terrible luck with these new cone cultivars, but 'Sundown' came back with vigor for me this year. 'Swan' and 'Sunrise' are two dependable ones, but I always figured that's because they weren't uber modified like these more recent and weaker ones.


















I'm too lazy to look up, and therefore can't remember, what this cultivar is named--but I do enjoy it.



















I thought this was nice. So do you, by the way.



















A close up of Queen of the Prairie in bloom. Smells like roses. You have to have this native plant. This year it, like most everything else, has grown massively. The filipendula is now about 6' tall and 4' wide and shading a turtlehead and meadow rue.















Wild Quinine. When I first picked up this medium to large native perennial I was iffy--looked kinda boring. And it is. But look at these unique 'blooms.' Reminds me of cauliflower (click to expand). This plant is currently at about 4' tall by 3' wide, slouching a bit because we recently had 5-6" of rain in two weeks after nothing the whole spring.














I really enjoy the different textures in this photo. And again, so do you. Liatris up front with sumac to the left, cones and monarda behind, then wild quinine, eupatorium and ironweed along the fence. Meeeoooowww.


















A suprise for me this year in how I like this combo of 'Black Lace' elderberry and Amsonia hubrichtii. The amsonia is finally at about full height and spread, but the elderberry is still settling in--growing too much out instead of up, so I've begun contorting (staking) it to turn upwards. Doing far too much staking this year, mostly that pesky deluge of 3" last week which finished off most tall things.



















Last year's garden art acquisition. Pretty at sunset. Right?



















And our new birdfeeder. We really debated purchasing this as it was out of our budget. But the wife said "hey, this can be our anniversary present." And fortunately, something good happened only days later that made the purchase affordable. Help the economy (eh), help artists (yes!). My mom says only fashionable birds would use this feeder, but so far it's just pretty much grackles. 10 at a time. They darken the sky.



















I ADORE my Rudbeckia maxima (and the birdfeeder behind it in this photo, just in case you hadn't noticed). I have this giant--6 feet--black-eyed susan set where two paths diverge in the garden, and it is at the point of a bed of red monarda and chocolate joe pye weed. The height at this spot is just perfect, it seems to me, and adds so much interest with its big blue leaves (again not shown here, so google it and buy one). I first discovered this plant over at View From Federal Twist, then bought it at Ambergate Gardens in Minnesota--two very cool places you should visit.

On BS

So my wife dragged me to a packed bookstore last night to see David Sedaris, who is mighty funny. As I was waiting for my wife to get her book signed (took exactly 2 hours because Sedaris likes to yuck it up), I roamed the bookstore. I read every title in the poetry section, the terribly paltry nature / garden section, Nebraska and Nebraska Press sections, University of Nebraska faculty section, and the philosophy section.

The philosophy titles interested me immensely--at first. There's a trend in relating philosophy to the masses via pop culture: chat rooms, dating websites, Battlestar Gallactica, philosophy for dummies. Some of the titles, which I can't remember, sounded too deep / mercurial for me. Then I starting thinking not deep, self involved. Then not self involved, just sorrowful. I felt pity for the authors. All that time invested in what really amounts to nothing--circular words and arguments based on smoke and mirrors. Is all writing ultimately like this?

I think philosophy and, in general, "philosophizing" is fun and interesting, but it creates a very, very small world indeed--one that is exclusionary of experience in my opinion. And in many ways, I've just finished 9 years of a life that was this, but maybe it set me up to not live anything like that kind of life ever again. But I cheered up a bit when I hit the title on the bookshelf that read "On Bullshit." A small, thin book, and based on my flipping through its pages, discusses dictionary definitions and real wold manifestations of BS.

And I realized that, being self effacing but not really self effacing in a self effacing way, it was BS, too.

So I bought a 50% off garden book which seems to hold far more philosophy in one page than all that other BS. Which made me sad. Is all language just a form of BS?

So I started thinking about starting my own business--making change purses. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized there's just not that much money in them.

Green Cows?

Mini Herefords, that is. Produce less methane, don't overgaze, help with erosion, don't compact / disturb the soil as much, and still produce a lot of beef and milk.

So, maybe when you go out this evening you should ask about a free range, growth hormone-less, ethically processed (possible?) mini cows.

Copper Iris, Lysimachia, Sanguisorba, Sculpture

Perhaps my posts will become more lyrical late in the summer, but I'm tired-of thinking, talking, thinking, reading (for shame!). Pictures have been soothing my soul lately, and pictures ye shall have. The second full summer has been good to the garden, leaf-ripping hail storm not included.














I'll never tire of this window from the side garden into the main garden.














Main garden, beginning to fill in this year thanks to iris, monarda, and eupatorium. Unfortunately, the more numerous perennials are outpacing the strategically placed shrubs, which makes them appear not so strategically placed because you can't see them: dogwood, chokeberry, viburnum, itea, ninebark.














The side garden was in the shade, the fountain was reflecting copper in the sun.


















I was thrilled that my native copper iris (LA) actually bloomed this first year after having been planted late last fall. The only shade of orange I can stomach.















Viva the tiger eyes sumac framed by the newly installed 'Summer Wine' ninebark.














Sanguisorba looks best, in my opinion, after its pink blooms fade to red and hold most of the summer. Stunning.


















A nice foliar / color texture I thought: sanguisorba blooming up front, with swamp milkweed behind, then monarda, then rudbeckia maxima, with lysimachia and geranium blooming behind that.















Lysimachia 'Alexander' in bloom. Lovely plant from the first glimpse in spring to freeze in October. I do, however, need to find more May blooming things--it's mostly a foliage show in May, which, actually, is a pretty good one.














Mom emails me one day and says "I bought this on Ebay, do you maybe want it?" Fo-shizzle! Put it over the rarely-used sprinkler system access panel so as not to kill any grass. Though, less grass wouldn't bug me one bit--that's why I like planting trees, in part. And if I hear one more neighbor mowing their lawn when I'm trying to enjoy my garden--mowing pretty much all the time now--I will have to call my friend Steve, who now works in explosives for the FBI, and call in some old college favors.

On Sending Out a Memoir

Ok, I'm not fooling anyone--I've no idea what I'm doing. I've never done this before. Still, when the first press says no to a proposal (of a book already done, but certainly in need of tweaking and smoothing out and an eye other than my own), it's similar to getting a rejection from a literary journal. Wait, no it's not. I think journals are worse. Though the letters read the same, I think there's the idea that this essay or this poem is far more perfected. Some would say then why are you trying to get your book published--because every single person who reads or hears about the book says "that's such a unique idea and story!"

Look, it's a good book, but I have no clue (or bravado) on how to prostitute myself. I've read some books and many, many websites on how to write and organize proposal packages, but I've never been good at fellowship or job letters (well, maybe job letters). What is anyone looking for? Is a book proposal nearly as much a lottery, darts at the board, lightening strike as publishing a poem? An essay? Is it like finding good pastries?

Look, I want to say, let's stop beating around the bush. I'll drive out to wherever you are, buy you coffee or dinner, and we can just talk. If after 10 minutes we can't stand the other person, let's have a safe word so we can exit and be mutually understanding. My safe word is "ni." Prior to our date, you could have stalked me on Google, read a chapter or two from my book, and that way we'd know if this relationship could even have a chance.

Promising hybrid memoir on hot topic that spans many niches and markets looking for press / editor to fill in the mortar joints. Author is congenial and will listen to anything, not terribly demanding (except for the cover perhaps). Book just wants to be held close on a rainy afternoon in mid summer and given a chance to become something more. Looking forward to taking a chance with the right person.

Who Pooped?

You can go to the Minnesota Zoo and find out, or play the interactive quiz and match the African animal to its poop. You even get to help them poop by lifting their tails and watching it come out. It's like being an employee!!

In the garden I touch poop all the time: rabbits, squirrels, birds, mine....

Flooding Disaster, Baptisia, Staking the Betula Youngii

I've been away, psychologically, from this blog for a while now. Wanna guess why? Ever since the chaos and intensity of this last, final term of grad school, I'm still in the process of coming down, though the smallest things seem so large. My sleep pattern is all haywire, most likely still stemming from my 8-10 hour workdays to finish my book in January. But I feel glimpses of normalcy again. And then things happen to disrupt them. Read on.

First, it's been a while since I posted garden shots. I dislike close ups of flowers on other blogs, usually, because I want to see the garden--but you can't see the garden in a picture. You can't move and focus in on something that catches your eye (or nose, or pant leg). Like, look at this 2.5 year old baptisia finally blooming, and blooming like gangbusters.


















That's Baptisia 'Twilight Prarieblues.' Although it's so smoky you can't see it from far away, seeing it up close is way neat.














'Black Stockings' Meadow Rue. Very seductive and kinky. Right? Hello?














I've no idea which of my Iris sibirica this is, but it's cool.


















First year in the ground and blue flag iris is growing fast and blooming beaucoup.














Globemaster allium tearing itself open. Reminds me of this blister I had last week....














Globemaster. (A possible name for a GI Joe or HeMan character?)














Amsonia hubrichtii about to bloom. Freaky. Click on the pic to expand it and see the hairs.

And below, please find the nightmare I've had this week. Most everything was going well this year, much less loss than the previous spring. Although I'm about to rip out the two 'Ruby Spice' Clethra which are languishing (what do I replace them with? 'Winterthur' Viburnum where it's damp clay, yet more dogwood shrubs?).

So, I woke up one morning this week to find I left the water hose on. No big deal, except the hose sprung a leak--the threads, with nozzle attached, ripped out of the hose. I bet 100s of gallons of precious water were lost. The ensuing stream went to the dry stream bed I have for the gutter downspout, out under the fence, along 40 feet of my neighbor's yet-to-be-sodded yard, and vanished underground in a waterfall. My clay soil was nothing but mush as far as I could dig.

So I rushed in and yanked out two shrubs and a perennial before they drowned. The dwarf arctic blue willow should be fine, but not sure about my wife's clematis or an itea. She said the whole area looks like someone was searching for a body. I was. Mine. My heart sunk into that muck, and I hope it dries out (the soil) in the 90 degree weather to come this weekend, but doesn't kill the potted shrubs (like the 'Ogon' spiraea, which after 2 years was FINALLY getting going).
































But, I did accomplish one goal I set out to do 12 months ago: stake up the contorting young's weeping white birch that I got dirt cheep at Home Depot in 2007 (it pays to look). Some things just take a while to think about. You be the judge on my work. The bottom part of the trunk is so heavy it shouldn't go anywhere, and the top part (about 6' off the ground) seems snug against the hose and the velcro tape.

Trim Your Vagina Topiary

I just saw this commercial tonight and couldn't believe it. There are other, more blatant commercials for this product, but this one seems trim enough to me. And here I am helping them promote their product. Argh.

ISLE is Publishing My Dandelion Essay

Wooooo freaking hoooooooooooo! You should wait to buy a copy, but you can read it here.

Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment (ISLE) is, in my opinion, one of the top journals on critical and creative environmental writing. It's published by / through ASLE, The Association for the Study of Literature and Environment.

Watch for "The Lion's Tooth" at an invisible bookstore near you.

Here I Am Graduatin' With My PhD

I can't believe I have a PhD. Then again, it's the most natural thing in the world. I have two arms, a nose, brown hair, and a PhD.

Commencement (May 8) was pretty quick, and my advisor stuck it out with me--such a good sport. We cracked sarcastic jokes with one another for 2 hours as my family made faces at me from the stands. One caveat to those who come after me: the doctoral hooding used to be more intimate, both in setting and fan fair, and this commencement felt too undergraduate-ish to me (the basketball stadium, and the chancellor, tongue in cheek every year, asking for alumni donations?). Plus the address stunk. But I digress--have some pictures of the joyous day. Can't believe it's over.













Gettin' hooded, yo.


















After commencement I immediately began "PhDing" to my family. This is my new word for "complaining."













I felt like a model having to strike too many poses. Then at one point my family felt like paparazzi, so I fought back with my own flashy camera.













My parents on the left, me, my wife, and my wife's parents on the right.













Mmmmm doctoral cake.

I received so many gifts from my family it felt like it was my 12th birthday or something. A rain barrel. Clever t-shirts. Personalized M&Ms. Garden journal. Commissioned artwork (more to come on that in 3 months). Good books. Monarch rearing thingy dealy. Trip to the nursery. I got spoiled.

Check out the post below with video from my wife's flip camera.

Now, can I catch up with blogs and emails and my breath?

Graduation May 2009

With a hood I feel like the dark knight.

Status of a Writer

Let's review the last, oh, two weeks:

-- Three major literary journals, one that starts with an O, absolutely love my nonfiction time after time, but once more it's still a no.
-- Place as a finalist in a poetry chapbook contest after years of trying to get some love for my manuscript, and many re-orgs. Maybe I finally got it.
-- One poem places as an honorable mention, another a finalist, in a contest.
-- Four rejection notes.
-- Three poems accepted for publication.

Some times I have to remind myself that, as bipedal humans, we perceive and experience the world as up and down. That is, as we walk we constantly rise and fall. This is maybe why I often feel dizzy if I'm not paying attention to where I am and where I'm going. Or, why I almost faint to and from the mailbox every day as I eagerly rip open SASEs.

Go read this little piece on rejections by Judith Kitchen--fun, true, sad, nice.

By the way, in two days I will have a cute little diploma I will sleep with. You can take that any way you want.

Of Crabs, Eupatorium, Smokebush, and Garden Vistas

May the pictures commence (as I will be doing in just a few days!).














The new bridge.















My maybe favorite plant, Eupatorium altissium 'Prairie Jewel.' Lovely golden spring foliage turns into speckled cream and green turns into thousands of white flowers insects adore.














'Prairiefire' crabapple blooms are actually more purple than this in sunlight.













'Coralburst' crabapple is growing left.













Corlaburst blooms begin red, turn rose, end in pink.















The only color of tulips I will ever have.














Can't remember the name of this smokebush, but the spring and summer leaves are gold, and in fall they turn to most of the colors in the rainbow.













'Autumn Brilliance' Serviceberry blooms and buds.


























If I had fewer perennials I wouldn't have to wait until fall for things to look magical. But I can wait. It's worth it. Boy is it worth it.

Last Day of Grad School

It's ironic that the last month of grad school, and now last day, simply involve me being a TA, teaching two classes. It makes 9 years sorta anti climactic. Grading finals isn't much of a celebration.

Thursday will be my last day as a TA. 8 years teaching at:

Ohio State -- 9 classes (TA, 3 yrs)
Doane College -- 3 classes (Adjunct, 1.5yrs)
University of Nebraska -- 15 classes (TA, 4 years)

I've met some incredible students, nay, writers in that time. It's been a privilege to work with them, to spot diamonds in the rough, to convert some to English majors, to be a hard ass and push others to where they should be. Nothing pleases me more than being a thorn in their side--if I got paid more maybe I wouldn't be as "encouraging."

And in all this time I wrote three books, which was the main goal of grad school:

Indelible Marks (poetry) -- 32p
Afterimage (poetry) -- 62p
Morning Glory (memoir) -- 241p

This is as sentimental as I can get before a crazy weekend of grading, house cleaning, and general preparation of visiting family. Maybe it'll hit me harder in September. But I'm ready to move on, be all I can be (or an army of one), so it might not hit me at all.

I need a 10' tall ironweed. Now. But Plant Delights is out of them.

Tree Chilling Hours

Learn something new every month. This from Jeff Gillman out of the University of Minnesota:

"Trees have developed a tool to tell them that winter has passed and it's safe for them to open their delicate buds. Here's how it works: Although trees may look dormant in winter, certain important chemical reactions are taking place inside them. When the temperature is between 45 and 33 degrees, certain chemicals are produced in most trees. The longer the tree spends between these temperatures, the more of these chemicals are produced. Only when the chemicals reach the right level is the tree ready to respond to the warm air rushing through its branches.

People who grow fruit refer to the time the tree spends in this narrow temperature range as "chilling hours," and they select trees to plant based on their requirement for chilling hours. For example, a tree grown in Minnesota might require 1,200 chilling hours, while a tree in Florida might require 150....

To avoid late frosts, some trees also use what's called warm days. Even after they've met their chilling requirements, trees such as oaks wait until we've had plenty of warm days before opening their buds. This ensures that oaks almost always avoid late frosts. That's a good thing because oaks are not good at producing new buds. Other trees, such as maples, break bud soon after their chilling requirements are satisfied. If maples lose leaves to a late frost, they can produce more."

http://www.startribune.com/lifestyle/homegarden/42192267.html?page=1&c=y

Of Tams and Blossoms

Did you know academic caps are called tams? And that if you want a PhD one it'll cost you $70, plus shipping? I do not want to look like the other riffraff so I bought it--no 4 square mortar board for me, luxurious octagonal velvet here I come.

And since it's too hot outside to garden, I took some pics. Stuff is growing by leaps and bounds even though we're well over 3" short on rainfall this spring.













The neighbor's seven pears are abloom













All kinds of insects, lady bugs especially, are enjoying the 'Prairie Cascade' willow blooms













'Prairie Fire' crab leaves emerged maroon, but are already fading to green, alas













At least the NWA planes don't say Delta yet













'Coralburst' crab about to burst













Lysimachia ciliata 'Firecracker' has spread from its now-dead center













Lysimachia punctata 'Alexander' spreading nicely this year













Aronia arbutifolia 'Brilliantissima' (Red Chokeberry) looks more like milkweed about to bloom













Ninebark 'Coppertina' looks the best this time of year