New Blooms and a New Path

My favorite iris opened this morning...




















and remember that Baptisia that I moved last year, in willful violation of all the Garden Rules???
It bloomed yesterday.



I picked up some more stepping stones and made a path through the butterfly garden. I need to be careful, though, about publicizing all these projects. Barbara at Wild Birds Unlimited is beginning to wonder how I can accomplish so much in my garden and so little at work. My wife has expressed similar amazement.

I Accidentally Feng Shuied My Butterfly Garden

(Thanks to Gina for the post title!)


I've been working on my butterfly garden this weekend. This is the first time that I've created a bed the right way: marking out the contours of the bed first, digging up the sod, amending the soil, and then...and only then...planting my shrubs. Usually what happens is that my car will be full of plants and I'm wandering around with a shovel thinking "Where can I put these things before I have to go to work Monday morning?" I end up digging holes wherever there is space just to get them in the ground, and invariably a month later, I decide that they would look much better over there.

That system was the chief problem with the butterfly garden. Things were jammed too close together, colors clashed, the bench was in the wrong place, the feng shui was all screwed up, and it just wasn't working.

I dug up two lantana, three spirea, a butterfly bush, and a hummingbird mint. To these I added two more butterfly bushes which have been sitting in pots on the deck all summer, some coneflowers from the bargain table, and started positioning and repositioning everything. It felt rather like trying a large ring of keys to find the one to open a door. At last, the tumblers fell into place, and the garden seemed to say to me, "Yes. This will be beautiful." Then I started digging.

I plunged my pitchfork deep into the bottom of the compost pile and came up with a trove of crumbly brown compost that I mixed in with topsoil and the native red clay, set my plants down into this mixture, and gave them a drink of our precious water. (From the watering can.)

The last element to place was the garden bench. I tried it in several spots until I found one that felt right.

You know, I used to snicker at people who did all that feng shui stuff, worrying about whether the energy was escaping from their garden or getting blocked in a corner or whatever it's not supposed to do. But I'll tell you this. The old butterfly garden never was a very inviting or relaxing place to sit. The bench was there, but I never settled in for any length of time. It was almost like "something" in the garden was nervous. In the last two days, though, even with all we have to do, Teresa and I have spent more time there than we ever have before. Maybe there is something to those ancient Chinese principles. After all, the Chinese had already developed an advanced civilization while my Celtic ancestors were bashing each other over the head with clubs, so I'm not going to scoff at something just because I don't understand it.

Pretending to be a Type A Gardener

Some gardeners, I've been told, before moving the first shovelful of dirt, take a hose and mark out the perimeter of the area to be planted. Then they consider the amount of sunlight the area receives, make a list of suitable plants, taking into account the sequence of blooms and the sizes of the mature plants, decide exactly where to place them, and then...and only then...do they go to the nursery and purchase the plants on their list.

Then there are people like me. And maybe you, if you have time to read this. We go to the nursery for one thing, stumble upon a sale table, and find a cartload of things that suddenly we must have. We get them home, and our significant other (who thought we were going to the grocery store for milk...oh yeah...milk...be right back...) asks a ridiculous question like, "Where are you going to plant those?"

Only then does it occur to us that we have absolutely no more room in any of the existing beds.

"Oh, these are for that new (fill in your own descriptor here) bed that I've been planning." We do not mention that we have been planning it for exactly five seconds; we have the plants, and a new bed must be made.

This morning, in an effort to avoid any actual work, I decided to see how the other half lives. I disconnected the hose, hauled it over to the butterfly bed, and marked out the dimensions of the butterfly bed that I would like to have one day. Then I went under the house (the crawl space is quite high and doubles as a shed) and emerged with a couple dozen plastic pots.

"Boy, I'm glad I saved these," I thought, placing the pots around the inside of the bed to show the location of future plantings. I even used the green ones to denote evergreen plants! How Type A is that! While I was dreaming, I got a trashcan lid and set it in the middle for a goldfish pond. I've been coveting the water garden at On the Shores of Lake Chicago. (Check it out--if I'm ever in Oak Park, I'm going to show up with a book and a glass of tea.)

My neighbor, who is not a gardener, came home about this time and observed me taking photos of empty black flowerpots, and no doubt wondered when we were going to fix the fence so he doesn't have to know about all the craziness that goes on at our house.

So now I have the layout for my dream butterfly garden (and a good answer for the next time the boss asks me if I need all those plastic pots under the house).

What do you think I should plant? I've already got lantana, butterfly bushes, butterfly weed, yarrow, hummingbird mint (agastache rupestris) and a red crape myrtle. Oh yes, and the pumpkin vine, which got a serious cutting back today. I'd love to hear your suggestions--it's full sun, hot & dry, zone 7.