Category: The Gardening Guy

It’s not too late to plant your orchard this year

I love the saying that something is “As American as apple pie.” I love apple pie and would have some for breakfast every day if I could. But oddly enough, apples are not native to the United States. They came from Kazakhstan, in central Asia east of the Caspian Sea.

I recently received a review copy of a great book about apples, Hardy Apples: Growing Apples in Cold Climates, by Bob Osborne with lots of fabulous photos by Beth Powning and published by Firefly Books (hardback, $35). It covers how to grow apples, and also has 140 pages of photos and descriptions of the best apples we can grow.

I spoke to Bob Osborne by phone at his home in New Brunswick, Canada. Bob has been planting apple trees in his orchard for over 40 years, mainly for scions (shoots) used for grafting by other orchardists. That required him to grow many, many different cultivars (varieties) of apples.

Bob is an organic grower and has paid attention to his soil as the key to healthy growth. In his book he gives a fine explanation of the soils that best support healthy apple trees. He recommends doing a soil test before planting apples.

A soil pH lower than 6.3, he notes, will not allow a tree to access the nutrients necessary for optimal growth and fruit quality. Calcium, magnesium and phosphorus can be bound up and unavailable even if present in the soil. He writes that in areas with naturally acidic soils, it is good to add lime every six years to keep the soil pH in the correct range.

Chemical fertilizer, he writes, provides nitrogen that when dissolved in water is highly acidic and can destroy much of the soil life that provides nitrogen naturally. Instead he recommends adding compost, blood meal, feather meal, fish meal or bone meal. He explains that you should not use fresh manures even though they are good sources of nitrogen. They can carry disease-carrying bacteria that can sicken you if you pick up dropped apples.

Potassium is important for good-quality fruit. Low potassium “may result in small fruit size, low sugar content and poor storability.” A soil test from your local state extension service or a commercial lab will tell you if you have adequate potassium, but if your fruit size is small, you may need to add some. Wood ash, he writes, is a good source of potassium, having about six percent potassium. I have read elsewhere that ash from charcoal grills should not be used in the garden.

Choosing a good site for your apple trees is important. For the home orchardist, apples will grow most anywhere, but full sun is best. Late spring frosts can damage blossoms and reduce fruit yields, so planting on a hillside is best. Cold air flows downhill and settles in low spots, which should be avoided. A hillside generally drains water better, which promotes healthy roots. Roots can rot in areas with year-round soggy soils.

Apple tree size is determined by the rootstock a scion is grafted to. There are four basic sizes: dwarf, semi-dwarf, semi-standard and standard. A few apples come on their own roots and tend to be full-sized trees. Bob recommends semi-dwarf or semi-standard for the home gardener. Dwarf trees, he told me, need support all their lives as the root systems are not adequate to hold them up in a storm.

I asked Bob for his recommendations for the best apples to grow in a home garden. The best, he said, is Liberty. It is resistant to many common diseases, tastes great and stores well. But he warned, you need to pick it when it is ready, not too early or too late. He picks his on Oct. 6, but farther south picking is earlier.

Next he recommended Novamac. It is resistant to scab, fireblight and cedar apple rust; it does not attract codling moths. It is tasty, it keeps well, and its form is open and easy to prune. It can be picked early if you like a tart apple. Other apples he likes include Sandow, Greensleeves and Pristine. See his book for more details on them and many others.

It’s not too late to plant an apple tree this year if you find one in a pot that you like. Or you can start planting next spring. In any case, having Bob Osborne’s book will guide you through the process.

Featured photo: Courtesy photo.

Try asters, Joe Pye or turtlehead for autumn color

Many gardeners go to the plant nurseries in June, and buy things in bloom for their gardens — and rarely go back until the next year. But that means that now, as summer winds down, they have few flowers in bloom. Not me. I buy perennials in all seasons. Fall flowers are important not only for me, but for those monarch butterflies that need to have plenty of hefty meals before taking off for Mexico.

Many of the flowers that bloom in fall are tall wild flowers that have been tamed and made into garden flowers: Many of the fall asters, Joe Pye weed and rudbeckias (black-eyed susans) sold in nurseries were just selected and bred to be more “garden worthy.”

According to entomologists in the know, the best plant for pollinators in fall is the goldenrod (Solidago spp.). This tall beauty has a bad reputation in some circles as a few species of goldenrod are a bit aggressive, arriving uninvited and spreading like crazy by root. And since they have massive root systems, they are not easy to remove. But not all are like that, and some are being sold in nurseries.

One of my favorite goldenrods is Fireworks. I’ve had it about 10 years. The original plant has gotten bigger every year, but never to the point of causing problems. It blooms in September with sprays of dainty yellow flowers in a vase-like arrangement. It is readily available in nurseries. It stands 3 to 4 feet tall.

I also grow one called blue-stemmed goldenrod (Solidago caesia) that is a shade-loving, diminutive goldenrod that I bought at the Garden in the Woods in Framingham, Mass., many years ago. It is perfectly well-behaved: It stays in a tidy clump and blooms late in the fall. It’s only about 16 inches tall.

New York ironweed (Vernonia noveboracensis) is a great pollinator plant that stands 4 to 6 feet tall or more with purple aster-like blossoms in big clusters. It does best in full sun and moist soil. Because it is such a tall plant once established, it is recommended that you cut it back to the ground when it is 2 feet tall in early summer to get a more manageable size. I wouldn’t do that until Year 2 or 3. And don’t give it fertilizer at planting time, or it may flop. Monarchs just love this plant, as do a myriad of bees.

New England asters (now no longer with the scientific genus name of aster, but Symphyotrichum) come in many sizes and a few colors. The wild ones are great. I have them alongside my stream in a light lavender. But commercially available ones come in pink and purple, too. They vary in height from quite short (often sold in bloom with the chrysanthemums) to over 5 feet tall. The mum-sized ones get taller in Year 2 and after, as they are cut back repeatedly to increase the number of blossoms and to keep them short. Full sun is best for these; they will grow in ordinary garden soil.

Joe Pye weed (Eutrochium spp., formerly Eupatorium) is also beloved by monarchs and pollinators of all kinds. The native Joe Pye grows wild along my stream, but I also have it growing in a garden bed I call the “Darwin bed.” The Darwin bed never gets weeded, and tall flowers fight for space. That bed contains Joe Pye, turtle head, asters, goldenrod and giant fleece flower, among others.

The variety in the Darwin bed is one called Gateway. Instead of greenish stems, it has dark purple-black stems, and it grows even taller than the native species. Mine is nearly 8 feet tall growing in moist, rich soil. All kinds have pink-to-purple flowers in large panicles at the tops of stems, sometimes a foot or more across.

There is a smaller version of Joe Pye weed, one called Baby Joe, that has been bred to be smaller, allegedly 2 to 3 feet tall. But I hear it is more like 3 to 4 feet tall if pleased with where it is situated. All have very tenacious root systems, so plant it where you want it.

Of my favorites is loved by bumblebees but the nectar and pollen is unavailable to monarchs because the blossoms are tightly closed. Turtlehead (Chelone lyonii) has clusters of delightful pink blossoms atop 4-foot stems. The flowers are unlike anything else I grow. They resemble the head of a turtle, and bumblebees force their way in through the ”mouth” of the turtle. If you listen, sometimes you can hear the bees inside — almost growling. Or are they purring? I don’t know.

Turtlehead has a long bloom time and is a great cut flower. They start blooming in August and bloom through much of September. They do best with rich, moist soil but I have them in full sun as well as full shade. There is another turtlehead that is white, but much less vigorous for me. Its Latin name is C. glabra and I have rarely seen it for sale in a nursery.

A real delight for me is to have a few bulb plants that bloom in the fall. Fall crocus is actually not a crocus at all, but a species known as Colchicum autumnale. It has leaves in the spring that disappear in summer, then it surprises us with big crocus-like blossoms on 4-inch stems. The flowers come in singles and doubles in colors from white to pink to purple. Expensive, but worth it. Most reliable in Zone 5 or warmer, though I have it in Zone 4. The flowers are on dainty stems, and often flop over unless planted in a ground cover like vinca that helps hold the flowers up.

So go to your plant nursery now and see what you can get that blooms in the fall. Our pollinators need food now, too.

Featured photo: Turtlehead is loved by bumblebees. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

Water deep if you can, and mulch properly

Many of my readers are suffering from a serious drought, enough so that plants are losing leaves and going dormant long before they should. Most well-established plants will recover from the effects of drought, even if they lose their leaves now. And new things? If you have not been giving them water weekly or more often, some may die.

Added to the problem is the fact that many places have enacted watering bans or limitations. And wells may not have enough to water everything. And of course watering takes time — time away from family, dogs and recreation.

If you have not been thinking about the drought, you should. Start by looking at your plants. Are leaves limp, withered or turning brown? If so, you need to water them well — today! They need a good deep watering.

Deep watering is not easy. If you take your hose and spray the base of the tree for a minute, you are not actually giving it much water. Wait 10 minutes after watering and go back to the new tree or shrub that you planted last spring. Use your finger or a tool like the CobraHead weeder (a weeding tool with a single tine) to dig down 4 inches or more. Is the soil moist? It should be. Most roots are in the top foot of soil. Add more water as needed.

If your soil is like powder, it is not easy to get water to penetrate the soil. If your tree is on a hillside, water you apply will run away almost immediately and not soak in at all. Even a gentle slope will allow water to run off. You will need to make a ring of soil or mulch around the tree or shrub to contain water.

If you are using a hose, use a watering wand to apply water rather than a spray nozzle held in your hand. These wands are usually 24 inches long with a nice “rose” on the end that makes the water flow in a gentle spray and have a valve to turn the water on, off or part way on. Since the tip of the wand is near the ground, it is less likely to wash away the soil. And it allows you to direct the water just where you want it. Soaker hoses on timers are good if you travel a lot, or vacation when it’s hot and dry.

Before you start watering, learn how much water your hose delivers. Do this by timing how long it takes to fill up a 5-gallon pail. Two or three minutes is usually long enough, but it depends on the diameter of your hose and the water pressure. Half-inch hoses are worthless. Five-eighths-inch hoses are adequate, and three-quarter-inch hoses are good for long-distance runs. Five gallons is the minimum quantity of water needed by a thirsty shrub or newly installed tree.

Most new woody plants need five gallons every week, but it does depend on the soil type. Sandy soil dries out the quickest and needs the most water. Clay soil holds water, but is hard to get thoroughly moist. Even though I have good soil, I always add compost to the soil when I plant anything. Not only does it add biological activity; it also holds water in sandy soil and loosens up clay soils. I buy it by the truckload. Most garden centers sell it in bulk, which is cheaper than buying it by the bag. Of the bagged compost, I like Moo-Doo and Coast of Maine brands.

Grasses and weeds suck moisture out of the soil, so dig them out around your trees. Weed a ring around new or struggling trees that is 3 to 4 feet wide. Then get some fine mulch (double-ground mulch, not wood chips). An inch and a half of mulch is about right, or two inches. Deeper than that and short rain showers will never get moisture to your plants’ roots.

Don’t buy bagged wood chips based on price — or if you do, buy the most expensive. Cheap mulch may be ground up and shredded construction debris and pallets. “Color enhanced” mulch is stained or dyed with something and may spread chemicals in the garden — and fade with time.

Never let the mulch touch the bark of your tree, or worse yet, make a faux-volcano of mulch. Mulch can harbor fungi that will rot the bark of your tree, killing it in six to 10 years. Once the cambium layer under the bark gets rotted, the tree will die. If you have mulch against any of your trees, please fix it right away.

Years ago I visited my friend Sydney Eddison at her home in Newtown, Connecticut. Sydney is a garden designer, author of many fine gardening books and a poet with terrific gardens. They were in the midst of a terrible drought — so bad that mature oaks were losing their leaves in the forest by August. A water ban was in place, but her gardens looked great.

“Sydney,” I said, “You’ve been cheating and watering your plants.” No, she explained, “It’s all about the mulch.” Each fall her husband, Martin, mowed over all the leaves that fell on the lawns and bagged them. He stored them in the barn until spring, and after all her plants woke up in the spring, she added a layer of chopped leaves. Not only did they hold in moisture, as they broke down they added organic matter to the soil — making it better each year.

This fall, do the same. Collect your leaves, or have the lawn service collect them for you. I don’t bag them up, I just add them to a pile and use as mulch in the spring. It really works. A 2-inch layer is perfect.

Don’t be disheartened if some of your plants go dormant now. It is their way of protecting themselves. But do water if you can — and get it down deep. Your plants will bless you!

Featured photo: A straw used to remove air from a bag of cherry tomatoes. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

Is that a squash under the bed?

Now is the time when gardeners often have too much fresh produce. People joke about locking their cars to keep neighbors from placing unneeded zucchinis in them. Our mothers and grandmothers labored over hot stoves on hot days to put up tomatoes in jars for winter, or to make jam. Now there are better, easier ways to preserve the harvest. Let’s have a look.

I keep tomato products for later use in a number of ways. First and easiest, I freeze tomatoes whole. I put clean tomatoes in zipper bags and freeze them whole. Later, when I want tomatoes for a soup or stew, I just run hot water from the tap into a big bowl and drop in a few tomatoes. That softens them up so I can easily chop them, but it also loosens the skins. I just rub the skins with my fingers, and the skin comes off. A few minutes later I chop them and they are just like canned tomatoes.

Want tomatoes for winter sandwiches? Cut them in thick slices and roast them on a sheet pan at 350 degrees until most of the moisture has gone. Then cool and place in zipper bags for storage in the freezer. When you need a tasty tomato in your sandwich, take a few slices out, and cook slightly in a toaster oven to thaw it.

I grow many hundreds of cherry tomatoes each summer. I plant a dozen or more ‘Sun Gold’ cherry tomato plants each year, and each produces a bounty of rich, golden nuggets of flavor. What do I do with all those? I cut them in half and dry them in a food dehydrator, cut side up. When dry they will keep well in the pantry (or the freezer) in a wide-mouth quart jar. I toss a handful into every soup or stew I make.

Of course you can slice and dehydrate any kind of tomato. I have a friend who slices tomatoes, dries them until they are very crisp, and then grinds them in a food processor to make dried tomato flakes. She sprinkles the flakes into or on to a wide range of dishes. And she usually gives me a pint of them each year, which I treasure — I use it to add that mystical “umami” flavor to a dish.

A few words about food dehydrators. I have lots of experience with two good ones: NESCO American Harvest is a round dehydrator that will allow you to add many extra trays (up to 30, but with much increased drying time). NESCO dehydrators come with either top or bottom heat, so drying time is a bit uneven. The other is Excalibur, a square one with nine trays. These blow air across the trays, and everything gets dry at once. They both have thermostats and timers that will turn them off when desired.

I use my dehydrators for drying apples and pears that are great for snacking. I cut slices about 3/8 inch thick and bag them up for snacking while they are still chewy. It looks like I will have a great grape harvest this year, and I may try making raisins. Set temperature at 125 to 135 degrees so you don’t break down vitamins.

I also use a dehydrator for drying hot peppers until they are brittle, then I grind them up in my coffee grinder to make hot pepper powder. That way I can sprinkle a little or a lot into a recipe, depending on who will be sharing dinner with me — I like food spicy.

I make tomato paste each summer, but that is more like the hard work my grandmother did. I core the tomatoes and squeeze out excess juice and seeds, then cut them in half and drop into the Cuisinart. I run it until the tomatoes are a slurry. Then I pour the slurry into a heavy enameled cook pot. I heat it slowly, allowing the mixture to just slowly simmer (to avoid burning it).

It takes a couple of hours to fill the big kettle, and all evening for it to boil off the excess liquid. When I can literally stand up a soup spoon in the mix, I know it is thick enough. I leave the pot on the counter all night to let it cool and evaporate some more, and then in the morning I spoon the paste into ice cube trays and freeze. I put the cubes in bags or jars. It is nice to never need to remember to buy tomato paste — and to have a good use for damaged tomatoes that might otherwise end up in the compost. I cut out the bad spots, and use every one.

I have never gotten excited about making jams or jellies. But if you have a dedicated freezer for storage, you can cook your raspberries or blueberries with sugar and spices, then freeze them. The canning process is lengthy and messy, so I generally avoid it. If you just want a little jam, make three or four jars and store in the fridge. It will be as tasty and it gives you an excuse to spread some on ice cream, using it up before it gets moldy.

Of course, storing food is the easiest, cheapest way to eat the harvest long after it. Winter squashes like butternut and blue Hubbard store for months in a cool, dry location. They store well for months under the bed in a guest bedroom with the radiators turned off.

When digging potatoes or pulling onions, try to do it in a dry time (not hard this summer). Lower moisture levels are better for storage. Cure them for a few days in a breezy place out of the sun. Store potatoes, carrots, celeriac and rutabagas in a place between 35 and 50 degrees with high humidity. Garlic and onions like lower humidity with cool temperatures. Sweet potatoes should never go in the fridge; they need to be stored in a warm room like the kitchen.

I try to eat something I grew every day of the year, and mostly I do that. Dried herbs, garlic and frozen foods are always there for me to use, so I do.

Featured photo: A straw used to remove air from a bag of cherry tomatoes. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

Sensitive fern, interrupted fern, ostrich fern — take your pick

Many gardeners who focus on flowers and flowering shrubs are missing out on a beautiful and easy addition to their landscape: ferns. A few ferns are a bit aggressive and can elbow their way into flower beds uninvited, but most are polite and offer different textures and colors of foliage with little work.

One of my favorite ferns is the ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris). This is a big fern, with fronds up to 5 feet tall. Each fern tapers at both ends, and they arrange themselves like the feathers of a badminton birdie. Its most distinguishing characteristic is a groove like you see in a stalk of celery, up the middle of each frond on the topside. It also produces fronds that turn brown and produce the spores.

In the wild, the ostrich fern prefers moist, shady places, but it will grow almost anywhere that is not bone dry or in full sun. It will tolerate some sun and ordinary garden soil, but rich, moist soil is where it thrives. Ostrich fern will spread by rhizomes, adding about a square foot of territory to each plant per year. They also produce spores that can fly in the wind to expand their territory.

Although you can buy ostrich ferns, you may be able to transplant some from your own property, moving them in from the woods or field to a garden bed. I have successfully transplanted ostrich ferns using a long, narrow shovel called a drain spade or transplant shovel. I push the spade into the soil on a 45-degree angle to cut roots and loosen the soil in four places around it, then push down on the spade to pop the plant, roots and all, from the ground. Best to do on a cool day after a rain, if we ever see one!

Another great fern is the maidenhair fern (Adiantum pedatum). In the spring it comes up on what look like black wires, then produces almost horizontal fronds that are fan-shaped. In the wild it indicates good rich soil. Books say it does well in moist, shady soil, but I’ve had it for more than 20 years in dry shade. I think once established it is fine in dry shade, but I’d water it for the first year if in dry shade, or in drought times.

Maidenhair fern is commonly sold in nurseries. I have also grown it in a pot on our north-facing deck. In our garden, a plant (or three?) has created a clump that is 8 feet by 4 feet in 20 years, so it’s not a fast spreader.

Christmas fern (Polystichum acrostichoides): Unlike nearly all others, this fern stays green all winter and has very dark green leaves. It grows in free-form clusters and has simple leaves. The leaflets have a little bump (ear) near the base of each frond and are 1 to 3 feet long. In past times, it was commonly used by florists as a green to add to flower arrangements in winter, though that practice is no longer common as whole colonies were used up.

Sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis): This fern has light green leaves that are quite wide. Leaflet pairs are opposite each other (like a bow tie). Top-most leaflets are smooth; others have wavy edges. It is very frost-sensitive, hence the name. It often grows in big colonies, either in sun or shade. Can be a pest in the garden as it spreads by root. It is the only fern that I always pull out if it shows up in my garden as it spreads fast.

Interrupted fern (Osmunda claytoniana): This is a big fern with fronds up to 5 feet long in a vase-like arrangement. It will grow in wet or dry shade. When spores are produced, they interrupt the arrangement of leaflets with smaller spore-producing sections that are not like the other leaflets. But not all plants will have an interrupted section, so look at a colony to find some that do to confirm the I.D. The little leaflets that produce spores get dry and turn brown in mid-summer.

Another fern I like is the hay-scented fern (Dennstaedtia punctilobula). If you have crushed this fern and sniffed it, it smells like fresh-cut hay. It is finely cut and stays just 1 to 3 feet tall. It is one of the few that will grow in a hot, sunny spot such as a west-facing, sandy hillside, though it does grow in shade. It spreads quickly and will fill in an area, making a large colony. It will out-compete weeds and grasses in sunny locations.

Are you interested in learning about ferns? Many guides use lots of technical language that only fern scientists understand. One exception is Identifying Ferns the Easy Way: A Pocket Guide to Common Ferns of the Northeast by Lynn Levine. There are just 28 common ferns in the book, and there are silhouettes of each at the beginning of the book. The silhouettes are divided into six groups based on how the leaves are “cut.” So a quick look will identify most ferns, and the straightforward descriptions quickly confirm which fern you are looking at.

Observe where ferns grow in your woodlands, and try digging up some to put in a shady garden in your cultivated areas. Stop discriminating against ferns and give some a try!

Featured photo: Sensitive Fern. Photo by Henry Homeyer.

Quiet the first year, spectacular the second

Biennials are some of the least planted flowers we can grow. Why? The year they are planted by seed, they generally do not flower. They only have a clump of low-growing leaves. The second year, they send up a flower spike, bloom, and then die. That’s right. They have done their job of producing seeds, and then die. Gardeners prefer quick-blooming annuals, or long-lived perennials. Biennials are the least favored puppies of the litter.

On the other hand, some are worth the effort, or the wait. I love purple foxgloves (Digitalis purpurea). In the past, I was able to buy first-year plants in six-packs at a nursery, and planted them two years in a row. After they were finished blooming, I cut down the tall stems and shook out tiny black seeds over a flower bed that had been weeded, loosened and raked smooth. I patted down the seeds but did not cover them with soil. The tiny seeds just fell into crevices and waited for spring, when they started the growing cycle again.

It is important to know what the leaves of a first-year biennial look like so that seedlings do not get weeded out before getting established. I do that by trying to remember the color, texture or shape of the leaves. Often, color is my cue. So, for example, the biennial rose campion (Lychnis coronaria) has a distinctive gray leaf. I recognize the first-year plants, often growing in a cluster, and dig up some to divide and plant where I want them the following year, and to give them more space to grow.

Rose campion flowers are deep magenta, a truly spectacular color. The blossoms are an inch wide and are very profusely produced. Well worth planting if you can find plants for sale, or buy some seeds and wait for second-year blossoms.

Often biennial flowers are in the same genus as perennial plants. Closely related plants are grouped in the same genus (equivalent to your last name). The second name is the species (equivalent to your first name). So Lychnis is like “Jones” and coronaria is like “Susan.”

So for example, our common purple and pink foxglove (Digitalis purpurea) has relatives in the Digitalis genus. I grow two kinds, D. grandiflora and D. lutea. Both are yellow and both often start new plants by seed, so I have plenty. The latter one has smaller blossoms than the former one.

A biennial wildflower I just love is Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota). As the species name, carota, implies, it is in the carrot family. The tap roots are not as big as carrots, but the fragrance is about the same. But the root is white, while most carrots we eat are orange, though white, yellow, purple and red varieties are available. Anyhow, Queen Anne’s lace stands up tall (to 3 feet) and has an umbel or flat-topped cluster of tiny white blossoms, with purple ones in the center. It is a great cut flower in a vase. Young second-year plants are occasionally sold in six-packs in garden centers, and some of those are pink or even dark purple. Lovely.

Another way to get Queen Anne’s lace is to dig up first-year plants and transplant them on your property. They are commonly seen along the roadside and are free for the taking on rural roads. Mature Queen Anne’s lace has a tap root and is difficult to transplant.

Please note that poison hemlock is a related carrot-family plant. But unlike Queen Anne’s lace, it has smooth stems, not fuzzy ones, and has no purple center to the flower. It has purple blotches on the stems. The sap of hemlock can cause rashes when exposed to sunlight.

Perhaps my favorite biennial is angelica. Again there are biennial and perennial forms, but the biennial is the best. Its scientific name is Angelica gigas. It has huge purple or burgundy globes of small flowers, each globe 4 to 8 inches across. The plant stands up 4 to 6 feet tall with strong stems and big leaves.

The best thing about the plant is this: It is an absolute gem of a pollinator plant. When I last grew it, it often had three or more bees on it at once. Unfortunately, it is hard to find in plant nurseries, and when I have found it, it was a big second-year plant in a 2-gallon pot that cost me at least $15. Yikes. I tried planting seeds after blooming, but did not save any for spring planting. I got no plants from my meager efforts, but I will buy seeds now and try starting some plants next spring.

Most plant books list hollyhocks (Alcea rosea) as biennials, though some consider them half-hardy perennials. One plantsman told me that the plants with leaves the shape of fig leaves are more perennial than others. This is a tall plant, sometimes 6 to 8 feet tall, that has open-throated 2- to 3-inch blossoms that come in a variety of colors from white to pink, red, yellow and nearly black, often with a yellow center.

Hollyhocks do best in rich, moist soil in full sun. But they will also grow in part shade. They open their buds in sequence up the stem over a period of four to six weeks. When they’re done blooming, cut them to the ground immediately. I believe that makes them wonder if they have produced seeds, and come back the next year to finish the job. They do show up uninvited in the garden, and I always welcome them.

Featured photo: Purple Foxgloves bloom from bottom of the stem to the top. Photo by Henry Homeyer.