Rhinebeck is tiptoeing into Phase 2 of New York State’s plan to reopen the economy. Within a matter of hours on June 10th tents mushroomed over any parcel of restaurant-owned space -- parking lots, hotel lawns, slivers of sidewalks. At the same time the nation was convulsed in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd and the extraordinary ongoing public outrage. It’s hard to imagine consumer confidence returning in the midst of the pandemic and such widespread social unrest, but shops and restaurants are opening nonetheless and, I hope, carefully.
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| Rhinebeck Reopens |
I’m giving this phase of the experiment a pass. Instead, I have more visitors in the garden, socially distancing of course. I’m running out of chairs, and have a few folding chairs coming from LawnChairUSA -- the Charleston Classic, pretty basic and unexciting but they settle comfortably into the garden. Available in a myriad of color combinations, more than you might want to scroll through, but if you stay with it till the very end, the last one is a cool minimalist black, perfect for the modernist gardener.
When the visitors leave and conversation ends, I get back to work in the garden. I’m building the “conspicuous failures” category this spring. The peonies and Siberian iris did not bloom -- not a bud, not a sign. There is always the worry of the black walnut association, but Siberian iris are supposedly foolproof, while peonies are a matter of opinion among those who keep watch on walnut toxicity. On the other hand, across the street a neighbor has a single peony growing against a house wall and sheltered from any visible light source by a fence and trees. Her peony is blooming it’s heart out with giant blossoms lashed to the house for support.
The mock orange, now in its 4th year is approaching giant size with not a sign of flowering. Otherwise everything else is behaving well. The black walnuts are in full leaf, providing beautiful dappled shade to make up for its punishing toxins. The single stand of Solomon Seal (11 according to my plant list) was so stately I’m adding two more groupings of 11 each in the same border.
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| Solomon Seal |
Star of Bethlehem (either a lovely bulb or your worst invasive weed nightmare, depending on your temperament) is taking up too much territory. Theoretically, it browns out about now and disappears, but so far it is just lying down on its side.
The dyphilleia is sensational, but partially and unfortunately crowded by a new red-twigged dogwood. Dyphilleia’s palmate-shaped leaves are huge and dramatic, outshining its more modest neighbor, the mayapple. Scott Blair introduced it to me but I could never remember its name and was forever asking him to repeat it. Retaliating, he wrote it on a number of 3x5 cards, hiding them around the house – in the freezer, a stationery drawer, inside pots, tucked behind the coffee grinder. I’ve not forgotten the name since.
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| Diphylleia |
The blue phlox divaricata has finished blooming. Usually I cut it back as I used to ruthlessly cut everything when it finished blooming. But I’m more laissez-faire this year; since I’m letting myself go with no haircut or makeup and wearing only work clothes, I’m letting the plants loosen up as well.
I’ve had a few small miracles. In the last newsletter I wrote about the white potentilla deemed dead by all, but which I continued to water. They are beginning to sprout, but you have to get awfully close to the ground to see it. Most miracles start out like this. A seedling from the devastated Japanese maples has surfaced. If I don’t lose sight of it, or if it’s not weeded out by mistake, I’ll pot it up and nurse it along for a few years and then keep it going in a large container.
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| Potentilla |
Several years ago I lost two very old climbing hydrangea brought over from the old garden in Olive Bridge. They were not happy, they expired, and were eventually cut down. Two years later, there are tiny shoots emerging from underground, where I can only imagine what the subterranean rest period must have been like. Small miracles, but they touch the heart in these trying times. If you want to catch them, keep your nose to the ground.
