Quiet Gifts in the Garden

I'm hoping by the time you read this, we've moved beyond the pre-Memorial Day cold, wet weather that can put even the most devoted gardener in a sour mood. I've got all my planters in their places for the summer season and topped off with fresh soil, but as yet another day goes by that's damp and with a high of 50 degrees here in Dublin, I decide to put off planting the annuals yet again. I relish the task when it's sunny and warm but today's not it. Instead, I took the dogs around the property and reminded myself of the many free plant wonders that grow without any assistance from me. First, we stop by a nice large patch of hay-scented fern that appears throughout my landscape. Eastern hay-scented fern (Sitobolium punctilobulum) is a soft, bright green native fern that grows in colonies. I love its feathery, light look and it makes a terrific ground cover when grown in masses. An article on the Blooms to Bees site, "A Troubling Native Fern for Troublesome Spots," explains that while it is a native to most of the eastern U.S., it can be aggressive and considered invasive due to our overpopulation of deer. Deer won't touch it so instead, they eat other native plants and young trees, allowing the fern to move in to the forest floor and prevent other native plants from growing. On the flip side, it can be a lifesaver to stabilize disturbed earth and slopes that tend to wash out. Thriving in shade or full sun, it indeed smells like fresh-cut hay when you crush a frond in your hand. Around the back of the small field at the rear of our property while I'm encouraging the dogs to do their "business," I next admire a little clump of lady's slippers. Cypripedium acaule is the pink lady's slipper or moccasin flower and is a member of the orchid family that's native to northeastern U.S. and Canada. It's the provincial flower of Prince Edward Island and the state wildflower of New Hampshire. Growing in open, upland woods and on the edges of bogs, lady's slippers take years to mature as well as specific bacterial soil requirements. It is not recommended to attempt to harvest these showy yet delicate plants as their survival upon transplanting is rarely successful. To make matters even tougher for the pink beauties, bees are only initially drawn into the slit on the front of the flower but quickly realize there's no nectar to be found and stop visiting altogether, making pollination of these plants difficult. We're lucky to have numerous clumps on the property and just admire their quiet, long bloom time. As the dogs and I headed through the wet grass back to the house I came upon a patch of Quaker ladies at the tail end of their bloom time. Lasting for weeks in May, the wildflower is technically Houstonia caerulea according to Wikipedia. Lots of people call them bluets. My dad had a much less artful name for them. He called them p**s in the grass. Every year, masses of them show up in the lawns around the house before we start mowing. Another native to the eastern U.S., bluets are technically a perennial herb with pale blue flower and a yellow center. Happy little volunteers in the landscape, I think they're joyful. Heading over to the chicken house, I was specifically looking for another very quiet native that's a favorite of mine — partridgeberry. Its Latin name is Mitchella repens and is a native vine for us here in New England. Not a vine in any robust, threatening way, partridgeberry is a mat-forming groundcover with very small, almost heart-shaped deep green leaves that grow in either dry or moist woods and is evergreen. I remember from childhood the little red berries it produces taste mildly like wintergreen. It is often used in little terrariums or "berry bowls" during the holidays. When speaking about the "humble, native partridgeberry," Keith Hansen on his East Texas Gardening blog said, "Just like a fine carpet or well-chosen tile flooring can dramatically enhance the appearance of any room in your home, so can a choice groundcover plant do for your home landscape." I thought that was a great sentiment. Speaking of sentiment though, I was a little chilled and my feet were wet when I got back to the house. Taking this little half-hour observation walk was just the tonic this gardener needed!