Kiss the Earth

It's been a busy week! Just when you think you're "done" buying plants, you do as I did and go to a plant sale to see what's what. Deadly. The month's MasterCard bill arrived yesterday and it's, as they say, awesome. And it doesn't even have what I spent last weekend on it.

Live and learn. This year I thought I'd be smart (first mistake) and order my spring plants online. I ordered some from a very well known seed and plant purveyor who sent them in a big box with arrows saying "This side up."

You know the rest of this story. They were delivered late last week this side down. All of the seedlings had tumbled out of their little plastic pots, potting mix all over the box and plant tags akimbo. "Never again!" I yelled.

Then, to make matters worse, someone at this famous seed and plant purveyor has invented a cardboard gizmo to hold each seedling. I don't know how else to describe this thing, except to say that it's impossible to get it open. They included a list of instructions for how to do it but I was in such a foul temper I couldn't be bothered to read it.

Since when is it a good idea to package stuff up in a way that requires a whole page of instructions to undo? And guess what! It didn't do the job anyway. My plants were a mess. Some heirloom tomato plants were snapped off.

NEVER AGAIN!

Next year, I'm going to do all my shopping at native plant sales and public garden sales, where the plants have been lovingly and carefully raised and people are on hand to tell you all about them. Our experience Saturday at the Schuylkill Center for Environmental Education couldn't have been more pleasant.

The plants looked really healthy, good size. Prices were very reasonable and the volunteers helpful and knowledgeable. We ended up buying some native sweetspire, blue wood asters, clematis and native honeysuckle vines. What on earth was I thinking, ordering online? The stuff arrives in impenetrable containers and the seedlings are small.

My clematis order from another company arrived late - and had one plant in the box, not the two I had ordered. And though these were classified as "medium" in size, all I can say is: I'd hate to see "small."

So there's my grouchy rant about online shopping. Here's a link to information about native plant sales coming up in the Philadelphia region and around the state, thanks to friends at the Pennsylvania Audubon Society, who went to the trouble to gather it: http://pa.audubon.org/PDFs/Spring2008_Events.pdf

... you'd figured out how to find this blog easily, the great minds that run the joint have decided to put it somewhere else: http://www.philly.com/philly/blogs/gardening/

So cut and paste that URL because Kiss the Earth will soon be found there, rather than here. For the time being, we'll be doing it in both places. If you go to the new site, you'll see I haven't quite figured out how to download photos into it.

I'm no fan of fads. Never been the kind of person who had to have the latest thing. So I've been quietly watching the Knockout rose phenomenon these last few years, waiting to see if the claims were true and if the single Knockout would evolve into a double.

From what I hear, these roses do live up to their billing. They bloom all summer into frost. They're disease-resistant. They thrive in full sun to part shade. And the single, whose look I didn't much care for, gave way to the double, which I like.

We recently pulled out some azaleas that were planted in a bed that gets full sun and never liked it, put them in a shadier spot and replaced them with six double Knockout pink roses. I have to say they look great. And I don't have to worry about this trouble-spot anymore. Knock me out!

Some days you're in love with the city. I had a day like that today, over at the Rittenhouse Square Flower Market, a charity event that continues tomorrow from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. I remember going to this as a child and as a young adult so it's been awhile, but they still sell the trademark lemon sticks - a lemon swizzle stick in a half-lemon that you suck on and suck on, while squeezing the lemon, until a little of that tart juice inches up into your mouth and gums up your fingers. Success!

They sell a lot of other stuff, too - annuals, herbs, hanging baskets, and even baby trees, along with food and jewelry. It's for a handful of great causes - the Anti-Violence Partnership, the Caring People Alliance, the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf, and Variety - The Children's Charity.

It's just fun. I was in the market association's flower booth answering questions about annuals. Thanks to everyone who indulged me. I knew most of the plants but Nemesia, which many folks apparently use in their small pots on balconies in the Square, I've never heard of. We had fun discussions about container planting and living walls and fertilizer or not and I thoughly enjoyed myself.

What a day, too. Perfect weather for a people parade, which is what this is. There were line-dancing seniors, young singers from a charter school, a jazz group and more characters than you could count. It was a great display of the city in all its (good) crazy diversity. This is why we live here.

If you get a chance to go to the Square, or can slip out on your lunch break, do. And spend lots of money.

That's what they're calling it over at Morris Arboretum till the end of June. Artist Gary G. Miller has created an exhibit called "Papaver Rubrum Giganteum" in the front meadow consisting of - what else - 300 giant red poppies that sway and bow in the wind. It's quite dramatic, especially if you're just driving along Northwestern Avenue minding your own business and used to seeing absolutely nothing in the field there.

The "poppies" are 10 feet tall, made of red aluminum. The "blooms" are 20 inches across, standing atop PVC pipe stems. I've seen them twice now, once on a cold, rainy evening and once yesterday, when it was 80-plus degrees and bright sunshine. They're fun to watch in any weather, really, looping and circling in the breeze or the rain like little kids whirling around.

Speaking of kids, the arboretum, in conjunction with nearby Woodmere Art Museum, has scheduled a family event June 7 (1-3 p.m.) where kids can make their own poppies. Guarantee they'll be cooler than the Kleenex bouquets we used to make back in the day with tissues and bobby pins.

So what is this, poppy appreciation week? I see the poppy art over at Morris about 10 days ago, and then I go to Colorado and stay in a nifty bed-and-breakfast in Denver built by an architect who's also been working, for the last 20 years, on his invention: a faucet you can talk to and boss around. I know you think I'm making this up but it's so wacky, there's no way. Anyway, the concierge at this B&B - called the Gregory Inn, check it out - tells us the story with real enthusiasm, I guess thinking that everyone believes, as her boss obviously does, that this invention will take the home furnishings and plumbing supply businesses by storm. Maybe it will. I've been wrong before.

We observe that the suite we're given is full of gizmos - TV screens that unroll from the ceiling, piped-in music we control and fancy fixtures in the bathroom. The curtain on one side of the huge tub, which has the fixings for a Longwood fountain display, opens to a fireplace. How romantic! And then there's the toilet, which flushes in about 1/10th of a second. Not so romantic, but - having been a couple for a very long time - we find it fascinating.

Anyway, once this faucet is on the market, you'll be able to tell it to make the water warmer or cooler, to take a letter or tell you you're beautiful. Who knows. If it came free, I might be interested!

After playing around with all our gizmos, we venture outside and discover a lovely garden that included - the point of this ramble - the most amazing Oriental poppies I've ever seen. Very tall, saucer-sized blossoms of rich orange-y red with deep black-purple centers and markings. Stunning.

Though our garden at home is about as "done" as I'm prepared to confess at this moment, we resolve to buy poppies when we return to Philadelphia.

Which, of course, we do. One bloomed this morning, a raspberry-pink one, though it didn't stand up tall on a regal stem as I'd hoped. It was nestled in the foliage, on the ground. The plant tag says 30 inches tall and I want every inch. Stay tuned.

While still on vacation, we went to Chanticleer, a place I never tire of visiting. It was my husband's first trip there and he seemed to love each discovery. He especially enjoyed the gardens created around water or the lack of water, beautiful plants that thrive in hot, dry weather. We took note. This year in our gardens we're trying to be water-wise, planting as many natives and succulents as we can. The idea is to save water, yes, but also to plant things that can take the heat and still look OK in August, when it turns to the Dust Bowl around here.

It's always a hard time in the garden, even though everyone suffers and most gardens look like hell. Everyone suffers except the folks with sprinklers and no objection to war-debt water bills. I'd like to think there's a better way to get through this season, and since much of gardening entails experimentation, we're game. This is our experiment this summer.

But wouldn't you know. Almost at every turn as we cruised around Chanticleer, we were greeted by ... poppies! (I feel like I'm in a gnome movie, where every place I visit I somehow run into gnomes.)

No gnomes at Chanticleer. Please! There are limits to its sense of humor. But plenty of poppies, their cheerful round heads bobbing demurely. Better than gnomes any day, if you ask me.