Bargain Shrub

Because I'm always looking for a steal when I shop for garden plants, sometimes I don't get what I bargained for. The above plant is one such "bargain." I ordered it online from a website I read about last year that offered "free" plants. The site offered several items that I wished to incorporate into my garden, so I took the bait. I had checked out the site to see if it was scam and the only complaints that I could find were that the items were very small. I didn't care about that--after all they were "free." Of course, the shipping and handling were monstrous. Still, I reasoned, I'd be getting a lot of material for my buck.

Much of what I ordered did not "take" in my garden. I sort of figured it was a gamble, so I was disappointed but not overly so. The nanking cherries survived and blossomed this year, so that was good. One of the two echinops ritro survived and looks great. Two New England asters are coming up gangbusters--I guess those are practically foolproof. I found the baby's breath while I was weeding, and it survived winter only to take a serious hit when I inadvertantly whacked it with a hoe. I hope it recovers.

The above plants--there are two, and the heartiest of them is in bloom now--thrived. But what are they? I have absolutely no idea. I ordered American highbush cranberry. I don't think that's what this is. Don't they bloom white and have a different shape of leaf? Whatever this is, it's very attractive, and I'm pleased with it. I just wonder if it will bear fruit and what size it will get to be? Does anyone out there know? If so, enlighten me, please! Mystery Shrub photos by JulenaJo.

Unsolved Mystery

Speaking of the mysterious squill of two posts ago reminded me of another mystery that occurred in my garden. Years ago an acquaintance asked me if I would like to have some of her barnyard roses. She did not know what kind they were as they came with the property when they bought it. All she knew was they were the most beautiful white roses she'd ever seen. They were spring blooming only, she said, but they had an exquisite fragrance. I went to her house and was delighted to see the most gorgeous white roses--very large and blowsy. She was right: the fragrance was divine. I happily accepted her kind offer, and she dug up a nice clump of them for me.
I planted them in my rose garden among the pedigreed and named heirloom roses and the David Austins, and I looked forward to seeing them bloom the following spring. And bloom they did, with fragrant abandon. However, they were not white at all, but a sensuous clear pink. I was delighted as I prefer pink roses to white, generally.
When I told my benefactor that the roses were pink at my house, she looked baffled and said, "No, they are pure white." I believe she thought I'd lost my mind. It's an unsolved mystery. The only hypothesis I have is that the soil in my yard somehow affected the flowers, perhaps much in the way soil pH affects the color of hydrangeas. The mysteries of gardening are all part of the appeal, for me. Who knows what surprises the Garden of 2009 will bring? I can't wait to find out! Pink Bud photo by JulenaJo.

Solitary Squill

I have in my garden a solitary squill. That's not the name of it. It's Scilla siberica by name. I mean there is only one. I originally obtained it from an elderly neighbor, Alice, who lived in a farmhouse half a mile down the road. The clump of squill never had a chance to proliferate in my garden before the Great Relandscaping Disaster of 2002, and after, a solitary squill would show up in the new lawn every spring, but eventually it petered out.
Two years ago, however, I noticed a few blades of "grass" growing where I had the dog run. As the grass hadn't really broken dormancy, I investigated more closely, and decided it was a bulb of some sort. I moved the dog so she wouldn't crush it and kept close tabs on it. When the clump finally bloomed, I was thrilled to see it was a solitary squill. How did it get from under the locust trees in front of the old house, where I originally planted it, to the side of the old barn, where the dogs run? I had no idea. Rodents, maybe? Seed? It is a mystery.
Before the plant could die off into oblivion, I transplanted it into my flower bed. It bloomed last spring, weakly, but it's coming up strong this year. I'm so happy! The photo above doesn't quite capture the true shade of electric blue of it. I hope it spreads wildly.
I saw a grassy field of them blooming at St. Charles Seminary near the cemetery and it seemed such an appropriate final resting place for saints. Fragrant, sighing conifers above, and a heavenly blue carpet of scilla below--very serene and peaceful. I'm sure there's scilla in heaven, and I could have a bit of heaven on earth in my garden if I could just get this solitary squill to be fruitful and multiply. I'll let you know how it goes. Scilla Siberica photo by John Crellin.