gardening with nature

Lilium regale, front view

I’ll admit it.

I’ve bought lilies in the bag, on impulse. Just going by their looks, in the shallowest sort of relationship. But I’m also an eternal seeker after something more, something…it’s elusive, but I know it when I see it.

I tend to look among heirloom and species bulbs for that elusive something. Older bulbs were bred for gardeners, not the cut-flower trade. What that means for us is that heirloom bulbs are easier to grow into flower and  tend to last better in the garden.

Lilium regale, back view

 Species lilies can be trickier, as most are very particular about where they live, but some are forgiving, and others can be patiently cultivated in woodland settings. The best places to find these bulbs are the gardens and catalogues of people who are as nuts about bulbs as I am. The breeders, the preservers, the people who see something in the wild and have the patience to cultivate it from seed.

You can find good species and heirloom lilies in bigger catalogues, such as the venerable Scheepers/ Van Engelen  listings (Scheepers sells small amounts for home gardeners; Van Engelen sells larger, discounted quantities for professionals, and people like me who just don’t know when to stop).  In lilies, breeding seems to make older varieties obsolete sooner than in bulbs such as daffodils and tulips, so you don’t see many hybrid lilies that are more than about 30 years old in the mainstream catalogues.  But Scheepers has several species varieties, including the incredibly wonderful Lilium regale and Lilium regale album, trumpets that will exhale scent on your midsummer garden and, if you’re lucky, establish themselves in a glorious perennial clump.

‘Mrs R.O. Backhouse’, heirloom lily supreme. “Backhouse” is pronounced like the wine god, Bachhus.

Brent and Becky’s Bulbs  offers an enormous selection of hybrid lilies, but also includes some old favorites, such as ‘Golden Splendor’ ,  a Jan de Graaf hybrid which has itself been used extensively in breeding due to its beauty and good character. (Or at least they did have ‘Golden Splendor’; I just looked at their newly-issued fall catalogue and can’t find it. Never mind, they have tons of other wonderful heirloom bulbs). Brent and Becky’s has the largest lily selection I’ve seen in a regular bulb catalogue, including an excellent species lily section, with over a dozen offerings. You can always count on their bulbs to be good quality, unmarred and bursting with life. I often think Brent and Becky are doing a darn good job keeping lilies alive in US gardens, even though they are supposed to be daffodil specialists.

For heirlooms, there’s always Old House Gardens, a repository of many fine heirloom and species varieties. Of course, as always in the botanical world, there’s considerable arguing over which is which. For instance, ‘Citronella’, a Jan de Graaf hybrid, is often listed as a species lily in other, less knowledgeable catalogues, with ‘Citronella’ acting as the name of the species selection. Citronella is actually a cross between Lilium davidii var. unicolor and Lilium amabile var. luteum.

The lovely ‘Citronella’. Not fragrant, but I let it in my garden anyway.

‘Black Beauty’ (from 1957) is another lily that looks as if it should be a species – but it isn’t, although it’s often sold as one by less-knowledgeable vendors. ‘Black Beauty’ is a hybrid of Lilium speciosum and Lilium henryi, made by Leslie Woodriff.

One of my personal favorites, ‘African Queen‘(1958)  is also listed. I got my own ‘African Queen’ bulbs there. I also tried their version of Lilium formosanum (a species lily from Taiwan).

Elegant, fragrant ‘African Queen’

While the prices at Old House Gardens aren’t as cheap as some places, you get value for the money . The lavishly floriferous quality, and the huge, honking size of their bulbs – prove that Scott Kunst and company are dyed-in-the-wool bulbomaniacs. If the mouthwatering descriptions of  about twenty lilies hasn’t already proved that.

The Lily Garden  is a site (and catalogue) offered by someone who suffers the most serious condition of plant mania: a breeder. And not just any breeder, but Judith Freeman, whose ‘Silk Road’ is only the latest of her lilies to make the big time. Her ‘Tiger Babies’  lilies, a delicious confection of fragrant peach tigerlily lookalikes, has been on my list of desired ones for some time. Maybe you think I’m getting off the subject, talking about newer lilies. But ‘Tiger Babies‘, while relatively new,  have now been around for thirty years, as Freeman’s site informs us (and she should know).

If many of Freeman’s progeny have become classics in the lily world, that’s not be so surprising: Freeman did her apprenticeship under Jan de Graaf in Oregon, and was once married to Ed McRae, another famous lily breeder. That makes her a sort of royalty in the lily-breeding world.  She’s still at it, and offers us the benefit of her labors, as well as cultural instructions (wouldn’t you rather get these from someone who’s actually been out in the field growing lilies for a long time?), lists of lily bloom times, plus some species offerings at reasonable prices. She even includes lilies that are easy from seed, a useful list for some of us who have fruitlessly tried with lily seeds over and over.

Telos Rare Bulbs is a site that specializes in species (which I always think of as the ultimate in an heirloom plant). They don’t have a large selection of lilies on their page of native bulbs from the Western USA – but they have two native lilies I have never seen offered in bulb form and have not been able to grow from seed. They have a lot of other native bulbs, too – both to the Western US, and to South America and South Africa. You’ll find a lot of selections here that you won’t see anywhere else.

Some of these catalogues offer spring-planted bulbs, and some fall-planted lily bulbs. Some offer both. Which is best? I suspect that has to do with where you live. For those who live in extreme climates or just want to get their bulbs in for that instant satisfaction, spring-planted bulbs seem to work well. But while I have spring-planted lily bulbs and had it turn out well (it was one of those shallow relationships I was talking about, with Nerone lily), I find that more often, my spring-planted lilies are stunted and tortured-looking. A fall and winter of establishing their roots and getting some good nutrition really works for them. Perhaps for some of you in other climates, it works differently?

And perhaps, as a contribution to the public weal, you can contribute other good lily sources? I’d  especially like to hear from people in other countries (although I’m always anxious to fuel my passion with more lily sources for my own use). When I was searching around for lily sites, I found myself becoming somewhat morose that I wasn’t living in Australia or New Zealand. They have some good-looking lily sites.

Emerging lily…

Why do I grow tulips in the woods?

I started growing tulips, and other spring bulbs, because I was living in a low-water situation. Ten people on a 2 ½ gpm well. For those of you not familiar with wells, that’s not a lot of water for ten people, especially if they have gardens. Several times a summer, the tank would run dry, leading to tight-lipped (sometimes not so tight) comments about whoever had let the hose run or the faucet leak. A snippy irascible atmosphere settled over the land. For half a day or more, we lived dirty, with dry faucets and hoses.

I was the last person to arrive, so I knew that any garden I had would have to be very low-water.

At first I planted natives and herbs, favorite friends of mine for a long time. Natives, of course, are bred for my rainfall  and climate. Mediterranean plants come from the same kind of climate,  where it doesn’t rain in summer. So they are also excellent allies in low-water gardens.

Herbs are great, but I began hankering after flowers. As usual, I turned to my stacks of catalogues and books to research. And what I found – one of the great “duh” revelations of my life – was that most of the popular spring bulbs were either Mediterranean, or California natives. Which meant they didn’t need any extra water from me.

What are the bulbs that fall in these categories?

Well, of couse, tulips

and narcissus (a daffodil is a narcissus, but not all narcissi are daffodils)

hyacinths

calochortus of various species, some of which are sold in major bulb catalogues, some of which can be found only in specialty catalogues, or grown from seed.

crocus (both the species and larger, showier kinds)

and a number of others, including alliums, ornithogalum, tritelia, and scilla.

There are some bulbs whose genus includes both bulbs that like moisture and bulbs that can handle a lot of drought (fritillaries, iris, and lilies are some), but you can’t go wrong with the ones I’ve pictured above. They love drainage and hate summer water, and if you grow them in pots, the way I do, you can move them out of the way when the foliage starts to wither.

There really are 1001+ ways to save water with spring bulbs, if you count all their different species, varieties, and cultivars. If you plan carefully, you can have a feast of beautiful, low- to no-water flowers for months, and get them back the next year.

And now is a great time to buy bulbs. (If you don’t know where to buy them, check out my Spring Bulb Shopping series for some of the places I think are the best.) Some catalogues are still offering discounts for early orders, and the selection is the fullest it will ever be.

Low-water gardens can be beautiful, floriferous and yes, even lush. Bulbs will lighten your mood, enchant children and neighbors, and put tiny bits of glorious other dimensions into your life. Get bulbs. You’ll be glad you did.

A lot of you already know the secret to good, water-conserving soil: compost.

But there may be a few of you who don’t know that you can cheat.

Oh, you can’t cheat if you want that black, crumbly stuff all gardeners crave; it takes time to make that rich, humusy-smelling substance. Compost like this is the grade A+ soil amendment. It provides nutrients, enzymes, attraction for earthworms, aeration – and it holds water like a charm.

Any organic matter can help your soil do that, though, even if it’s not in the absolute top-notch way completely composted organic matter does. And  a lot of the time, you can scavenge the materials to do it. Which means it’s saving you money, too. (Priced out a load of delivered compost lately?)

If you live in a more rural area, scavenging’s easier, but cities have their own rich supplies.

First, there are the chopped branches and leaves often offered at both city and rural dumps or other sites. After crews clear away branches for power lines, or finish schwoomping up leaves, all that stuff has to go somewhere. In many places, they grind it up in civic grinders and offer it for free. Some places even deliver it.

A few cautions: First, you’d want to be sure you weren’t taking leaves from trees heavily sprayed with pesticides.

And, since it has a lot of woody matter in it, this sort of organic matter is better as mulch. (A friend of mine actually used it for a sort of soft playground surface for her kids.)

Wood takes a while to break down. Some people claim that this changes the acid balance of the soil, or takes up more nitrogen than it offers. I tend to believe the people who say they don’t see much effect from that, and that the value of the organic matter far outweighs any deficits. I feel the same about pine, fir, and cedar needles, other materials that need to stay as a mulch on top until they rot entirely.

If you gather your own leaves, you can pick and choose. In open areas, just go for a spot where there are a bunch of fallen leaves, and start gathering.

Underneath the leaves you will find a darker, moister layer of falling-apart leaves. This is called leaf-mold, and used to be taken into gardens not only for its organic matter, but for its enzymes and mycorrhizal activity, the things that make soil come alive.

Be thoughtful to the trees who are so kindly providing this rich substance: they can spare some of it, but they need it to thrive, too, as does the rest of the plant and fungal community around them. When I gather leaves, I move from spot to spot, and I don’t go all the way down to the soil.

Of course, there are always the leaves from our own gardens, left when the season’s done. All my tulip foliage (after it’s really brown) and dead leaves go into the compost.

And there are the leaves from trees which fall on our own gardens, rotting quietly through the winter, contributing rich, water-saving organic material without any work on our part.

In the city, you might find people who want you to take their leaves – after all, many people pay gardeners to blow or rake or burn their leaves away. Another source of leaves is restaurants. If you can establish a good relationship with a restaurant, and prove yourself reliable in taking away their compost and bringing back buckets, you will have a rich source of leaves. Restaurants that serve a lot of salads or soups are more likely to have leafage, but any place will have some.

Other sources? Horse stables will have plenty of horse manure, which is basically grass or alfalfa held together by other matter, and not at all obnoxious to handle, especially when dry (it’s lighter and easier to haul when it’s dry, too). If you’re willing to shovel it out, the stable owners will often let you have it for free. I’ve also gathered dried horse manure from the fields. Cow manure, too: I’ve found that when cows graze, or are fed alfalfa, their manure is not as hot, especially after it’s been baking in the sun for awhile. You still have to be more careful of it than horse manure, though.

Sometimes feed stores or farms have spoiled hay, hay that’s been out in the rain, and is sold for a pittance. Grass clippings work, but they are so high in nitrogen that they need to be put in a bin so they can burn their heat out. (My grandfather once had me put my arm into one of his triple grass-composting bins. I was shocked at how hot it burned. He proudly showed me the thermometer reading.) You also want to be sure about the provenance of your grass clippings: for some reason, at least in the US, we put our most deadly poisons down where we like our little children to play. Conventional lawn care involves a lot of toxins.

I’m sure there are many more clever places to scavenge organic matter (stuff that isn’t quite, yet, compost).

Wherever you get it, there are a few things you can do with organic matter when you bring it home to the garden.

Of course you can put it in a compost pile and compost it properly, but that isn’t cheating. I’m here to provide you with the easy, cheating ways.

One is to use your organic material as mulch, and let it gradually rot, improving your soil. The barrier of mulch on top is a great way to keep water from evaporating. And the microbial activity of the mulch breaking down feeds your soil, as the mulch gradually turns into lovely, fluffy, composty soil. Soil that holds water just right.

Another method (especially good for soggy stuff like restaurant leavings) is to tuck your organic matter under mulch.

This is the Ruth Stout method, politely called “sheet composting”. (When she first started composting this way, she didn’t hide the garbage under the compost, and concerned friends started wondering if she’d got a screw loose.)

Of course you can’t use the Ruth Stout method unless you have some mulch to begin with. If you used municipal wood chippings, for instance, the mushier vegetable leavings would start to condition your soil immediately for better water retention, while the wood chippings made a barrier, keeping moisture in.

The most labor-intensive method of dealing with compost is, of course, the one that gets the quickest results: tilling it in.  Tilling in requires muscle power and/or machinery, plus being picky about your compostables, so you don’t end of with chunky, hard-to-work soil.

If you have reasonably decent soil, you can also use the compost to build a new bed, using the cardboard method described in the last post.

Whichever method you use,  your soil will hold more water, and get better at holding water (and delivering nutrients) with each passing year.

 Well-aerated humus-filled container soil makes it easy for this tulip to emerge and flourish

It’s not a glamorous subject. But sometimes, you just have to get down to dirt.

The kind of soil you have is a big decider in how much water you use. Not to mention how well your plants do. Last June, I gave out ideas on how to make container soil ideal for conserving water. I still use those methods, and they still work.

But if you have a big garden, in the ground, a lot of those container methods just aren’t practical, unless you want to pay the big bucks to have your entire garden’s soil trucked in, pre-mixed. Or do it yourself, a task that puts you in superhero league.

Some container methods might work in a big garden: for instance, adding earthworms to your soil is an excellent idea in containers and out. By running it through their digestive tracts, earthworms turn soil into something more humusy, nutritious, and aerated. Humusy and aerated is ideal for conserving water; it means your soil structure is the perfect structure for holding water and delivering it to plants.

If you have time, you can actually accomplish a lot of this by earthworms alone. One way of making a garden bed is to lay cardboard, covered with straw or leaves or whatever organic matter you have a lot of, over the patch of ground you want to work next year. In our warm-winter climates, it’s best to do this in the fall; by spring, the ground is likely to be workable, unless it’s a patch of decomposed granite. Even earthworms can’t perform miracles.

This high mountain soil is pretty much all decomposed granite. No earthworm action here, and laying on cardboard wouldn’t make it different

The cardboard forms a moisture barrier, the rotting straw or hay provides organic material, and all this is like hanging out a free lunch sign for the earthworms, who come from far and near to compost and digest.

How can you tell whether this method will work in your soil? The easiest, most ancient test, is to pick up a moist (not wet) handful, and squeeze.When you open your hand, the soil will do one of two things. It can break up, which means you’ve got sand or other types of decomposed rock. That means earthworms are not likely to gather around unless you give them more encouragement than a little cardboard and straw.

If the soil stays in a palm-shaped clod, that means there’s clay or silt in there, in which case, you go on to the second test.

The second test is just to take your thumb and tease out a ribbon from the soil in your palm. If the ribbon is shorter than an inch (2.5 cm) when it breaks, that means you have a lot of sand. If it makes a ribbon 1-2 inches (2.5-5cm) long before breaking, you’ve got soil with some clay and some organic matter. Longer ribbons mean clay combined with sand or silt (the very fine soil from waterways).

There are many more variations and shades to this test, but this is enough to let you know how much water your soil will use.

Basically, it works like this: sand has the biggest particles. Unless those particles are filled with clay (the dread cement-like sandy clay), the spaces between the particles form air chutes that water runs right through. That means plants barely get a taste of water before it runs on by, down into the secret crevices of the earth. Nutrients get washed down, too.

Silt’s particles are medium-sized. Silt is formed by  water-worn minerals, and acts a lot like sand in the soil – except that its particles are smaller and it has more available nutrients. In your garden, silt will hold water and nourish plants, but it will also form flat plates which resist water by forming a barrier.

Clay has the smallest particles, which means water seeps through slowly. Clay also has a negatively-charged ions that hold on to water and nutrients, giving your plants a wide range to absorb. The problem there is that plants need air as well as water, and the small clay particles don’t allow that. While some plants are adapted to grow in clay, a lot of garden plants get stunted in pure clay, and it’s very hard to work.

The ideal soil, which almost no one has, is a combination of all three, called loam. This is the soil that can feed your plants, and retain water without turning into a swamp. Everyone wants loam, and few people have it.

But wait – there is a solution. A savior. A panacea.

Organic matter.

Tune in for our next post: Paydirt: Organic Matters

Last year, I talked about the joys of self-watering planters, the types I use (including one especially for water plants) , and the enormous amounts of water (and plants) you can save with them.

This year, I’m going to broaden my self-watering horizons a little, and introduce more ways to have affordable water-saving containers for different garden purposes. All the photographs here are from my own self-watering containers, to give you some ideas on how you can use them in the garden.

Even those of you who mostly plant in the ground could take advantage of self-waterers.

What about all those seedlings and small plants that need constant watering to make it to the point where you plant them? If you have a timed watering system, great, but if you can’t afford one, or you want something more water-conservative than a sprinkler going off four times a day, you might want to consider these humble self-waterers, made out of old 2-liter plastic bottles.

The simplest big self-waterer are the kinds I’ve described in past posts: put a large pot in a large bowl, or put a short bucket in a longer bucket.

A little more sophisticated, but along these humble lines, is this amusing, fast-paced video on making self-watering containers out of 5-gallon buckets.

A system that  some refinements, not to mention more space to plant, is the tote-box-container method at Josho.com, laid out in text, with good clear instructions and photos.   One writeup I saw on this method extolled self-watering tote boxes for their greatness for tomatoes. They would also work well with other large plants, as well as being good containers for a crowd of plants instead of single specimens.

If you prefer a more stately approach, try this video from Tom Cole, head of department at a horticultural college in London.  (If you’d rather read directions that watch a video, there’s a list of instructions on the same page. ) It’s a more elaborate video on the same topic, with a careful and thought-out approach. You could use the same 5-gallon pails, or you could use the garden container of your choice, as long as it doesn’t have a hole in the bottom.

This page  shows the two-pot method, where you put two pots together to create one self-watering container. In the photos, they show terracotta pots, though, and these pots are heavy water-users, since they diffuse water through their porous walls. They do show one painted, which helps, but if you’re really looking to save water, don’t use terracotta. Unless you’ve got some plant, like a succulent or Mediterranean herb, that really doesn’t want much water – just some.

Mike Lieberman gives a low-key, low-price approach to making self-watering containers: the container-in-container method, the container-with-a-pipe method, and the vinyl tile method, which was new to me.  This is just a guy sitting in his basement, but he really knows his stuff, and shows it to you clearly.

In these videos, the urban organic gardener (as Mike Lieberman styles himself) gives you everything, including his tips on where he gets free materials for containers, how to keep track of your containers, so you know which proportions of tank to plant work best, the principles of self-watering containers – plus really good directions on how to actually make them. He gives written material lists, to make it easy. Even I, challenged in handiness skills, was not intimidated by his anyone-can-make-it-dirty style.

With a little ingenuity, most of these DIY versions can be adapted to use scavenged containers that are a little more appealing than a 5-gallon bucket. Flea markets, garage sales, dumps, trash for removal on the street can all be rich fields for mining container material. The essence of DIY is to open your eyes and use what’s around you. DIY can save more resources than water. We just have to use our imaginations more than our pocketbooks.