June: It's not a weed until I say it's a weed

Anyone know what this is? It appears to be in Polygonaceae, maybe a Polygonum or Persicaria. I'm letting it stay in the butterfly garden until I have a good reason to pull it out. It's cute!

Also on this nasty, sticky, hot day...

Clematis 'Jackmanii', being amazing on the coachlight for over a decade

Lysimachia punctata, yellow loosestrife; and proof that the shade garden does get some sun, around solstice-time

Daffodil and tulip greens are cut back to give more sun to the butterfly garden. The new plants are all in: Salvia nemerosa 'May Night', and the annuals: lantana, portulaca, gazania, ageratum, cosmos. Keep looking out window, impatient for butterflies to show up. Couldn't find any daisies (Leucanthemum vulgaris) but will look again later. The mix of purple salvia and white daisy outside the Garfield Park conservatory is still on my mind.

I'm leaving soon for a few days in the field, collecting American basswood leaves and visiting the UNC herbarium in Chapel Hill. For anyone I might have promised to visit on the way, I'm sorry but I don't think I'm going to have much spare time, since I absolutely have to get back home by a certain day. These trips are anything but lazy and relaxing, and I am a monomaniacal crazywoman on the road. In a good way of course! I intend to post pictures from the road so watch this space. Soon you will be as sick of basswood as I am!

June: Brookfield Zoo

My husband and I went to the Brookfield Zoo for the first time a few days ago. We had a great time although we had to skip the reptiles and frogs because we ran out of time. We spent a lot of time in the butterfly house, where I was inspired to buy lantana and ageratum and turn my patio garden into a butterfly garden.

If you'd like to see the pictures, the Flickr set is here!

June: Boojum!

The Hunting of the Snark is an epic poem by Lewis Carroll. If you recognize the title of this blog, you can probably guess that I have some love for Carroll, who did more than write the Alice books and have inappropriate relationships with little girls. The Hunting of the Snark outlines a hunting trip in which a motley band of misfits whose titles begin with B hunt the elusive Snark in some far-off land. Some Snarks are rumored also to be Boojums, a horrifying possibility that the band is unwilling to accept. None of this makes any sense of course; like Jabberwocky, you just roll with it, relish the language and rhymes, and say "wtf??" to yourself once in a while. Carroll reputedly wrote the entire epic after the final line popped into his head out of the blue one day. He may or may not have been stoned on absinthe and laudanum as well. (I made that last part up but hey, if Coleridge can write Kubla Khan after an opium-induced hallucination, anything is possible!)

And thus I have a special fondness for the Boojum Tree at the Desert House of the Garfield Park Conservatory in Chicago. It's a crazy-looking tree endemic to the Baja Peninsula and state of Sonora in Mexico. Fouquieria (or Idria) columnaris is related to the ocotillo, a spiny plant familiar to anyone who has spent time in Arizona. I wouldn't say the Boojum is attractive, exactly, but it's rare and interesting and dangerous-looking and through the magic of conservatories it's growing right here in Chicago.

What does our intrepid hero, the Baker, have to say about it?

"But if ever I meet with a Boojum, that day,
In a moment (of this I am sure),
I shall softly and suddenly vanish away--
And the notion I cannot endure!"

Luckily for us, this Boojum is entirely non-lethal and does not cause involuntary vanishification.

The Baker unfortunately met with a less friendly instance of Boojumness...

In the midst of the word he was trying to say,
In the midst of his laughter and glee,
He had softly and suddenly vanished away---
For the Snark *was* a Boojum, you see.

June: Oh, Stormy, bring back that sunny day

The sun is out at the moment but I woke up to a thunderstorm (or, more correctly, I woke up to a trembling dog who heard the storm long before I could have). Does anyone know a good website or news article that says how many inches over normal rainfall we've had each month?

It is so wet that I'm pretty sure I spied an ark under construction under the viburnum. I dread the powdery mildew that will surely come later in the season, and the mosquitoes are already turning my morning garden walk into a slap-fest.

On the plus side, I have more greenery than most Central American countries...

Would you believe, this is my prairie garden? Just because plants are adapted to heat and dry soil doesn't mean they won't grow like gangbusters given frequent rain and cool temps. It's getting so overgrown I don't even know where to start fixing it. Oh wait, yes I do. I'm looking at YOU, Mr. Dogwood.

I would never purposely plant a pink rosebush. I don't much like roses and I don't much like pink, but this bush came with the house and for a couple of weeks each June it is impressive. The rosebuds are my favorite part.

Mr. Goatsbeard says "Ugh, please stop the rain!!"

So does the garnet laceleaf Japanese maple, Acer palmatum dissectum. I think I need to move this fella before the burning bush eats it.

Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue); Dicentra spectabilis (bleeding heart) in fruit for what is I think the first time ever. Are the seeds easy to germinate?

Thalictrum dasycarpum (meadowrue), which was covered in fluffy stamens just yesterday, today is a sodden mess; Clematis 'Rouge Cardinal' and Phytolacca americana (American pokeweed). The pokeweed is a weed, yes, but it's also a native plant that I think is gorgeous and tropical-looking so I let it be. However, I diligently pull out any seedlings I find. One per yard is enough.

My Lemon Queen sunflowers for the Great Sunflower Project, and my Blue Lake beans for One Seed Chicago, are making progress. Don't make fun of the tomato cage; I still haven't made it to the store for a sturdier support.

This weekend: douse self in bug repellant and tackle the prairie garden. I can't wait!

June: Time to get Cereus

It was the big banquet dinner on Friday night at the Garden Bloggers' Spring Fling. I'd been thinking about Carol from May Dreams Gardens and her night-blooming cereus plants all day. She had said the first three people to tell her the Secret Phrase would take a plant home! I was in agonies. How could I possibly receive one of these coveted plants when I was at work all day?! But then Carol, after dinner, miraculously holds up one of the plants and says to the room in general, "Does anyone want this?" I confess I may have embarrassed myself by jumping up and down but acting 8 years old sometimes pays off and this crazy charmer is now living in my dining room. I'm praying to the patron saint of houseplants to keep it alive and happy so I can 1) not disappoint Carol and 2) actually see it bloom one of these years. Carol, thank you!!!!



Here's some inspiration for it from Garfield Park: