I’m addicted to pots! I love container gardening because like putting a frame around a painting, a plant in the right pot is suddenly especially special. I started working yesterday with Julie Morris (Blithewold’s Dir. of Hort.) on our container bed. And I just read this morning on Garden Rant that mixed containers are “out” and one plant to a pot is totally the new “in” thing. I’m not sure where I’ve been because after years of resisting mixed containers and only grudgingly making a few weak attempts at combinations now and again, I’m finally into mixing it up. I’m so woefully behind the times!

One plant per pot is definitely the easier way to go. Each plant receives exactly the kind of attention it needs and pots can be placed in artful combinations and shifted according to whim and whimsy or whenever something starts to look scrunky. I may be a frustrated interior decorator (my house is so small that everything has a place - one place - it can go) because I really enjoy rearranging the “furniture” in the container bed.

A mixed container is a challenge. Just like planting a garden with the right plant for the right spot, for a mixed container one must at least consider putting plants with similar needs together. I broke that rule with the pot combo of million bells (Calibrachoa) and blue chalk fingers (Senecio vitalis) but I’m hoping that improving the drainage around the Senecios with turfus will keep them happy even though I’ll be watering the pot whenever the Calibrachoas are thirsty. If either plant fails to thrive (another way of saying “shows signs of dying slowly but surely”) we’ll have to punt and repot. A good imagination is helpful too for being able to picture what your combo will look like when it “grows up”. What will overtake? What will fill in the gaps? My giant Ferry Rd. pot has filled in quite nicely with only one casualty so far (a lobelia). Now I wonder how much longer it will last before competition does them all in… Mixed containers always have the element of experiment - which if you have the time, patience and budget for it, isn’t a bad thing at all.

So I got a little bit into it yesterday and although my first attempts don’t excite me (probably because they haven’t “grown up” yet) I’m kind of loving my last pot combo of the day. I actually almost ripped everything out thinking it was a terrible combination but then looked at it from another angle and decided quirky works too and if these plants were together in a garden I’d probably love it. Once again though I made a hash of the cultural requirements and will have to watch the pot hawk-like to make sure that nobody dies from benign neglect or compulsive over watering…

On a practical note, we use one part (ish) compost to two parts (ish) of soilless potting mix (dampened!) and we’ve just started throwing a handful of Espoma triple phosphate into our mixing bin - we used to use Electra so we’ll have to wait and see if there’s a big difference. For the two entrance pots, which I don’t want to have to check every day, I also added SoilMoist and that seems to have helped keep the pots from drying out completely between waterings. When we fertilize we usually use Neptune’s Harvest fish emulsion but occasionally use blue stuff blossom booster (only on the pots).

Are you a pot addict too? Do you have favorite combinations, tips or tricks? (For those of you who already participated in the conversation at Garden Rant, feel free to say it again here!)

Gail doesn’t want me to admit this but we’ve both hit The Wall. It’s a June wall and I think we hit it every year as we finish planting and every year we think there’s something really the matter with us. We’ve been so wiped out for the past couple of weeks that Gail’s convinced that she has the flu and I’m so prone to inappropriately timed naps that I’m pretty sure I’ve developed narcolepsy. But what ails us is probably nothing more than “the slows”. Our slows generally coincide with summer humidity to which we haven’t yet acclimatized and that has made the blood in our veins turn to fluffernutter. And we’re ready to be done with the digging, heavy lifting and mental strain of design and placing plants. The good news is we’ve almost finished planting and moving out of the greenhouse. We just have one… more… new bed in the Display Garden to plant up as soon as Fred, Dan and Matt (their summer intern) finish creating something magical. Look out, kiddos - this one’s for you!

And we’re starting to move on to the next phase of garden chores that are perennially romanticized for being therapeutic: We’re weeding and deadheading! The Cutting Garden got a thorough going over this morning by the Deadheads who made their way at a steady pace through the beds.

It’s also time to do battle with the bugs - Dick’s veggie garden has a bad case of potato beetles - shown here in the larval stage. He finds drowning them slowly to be wickedly cathartic (though back breaking). Some of the Deadheads who helped him did not get the same degree of enjoyment out of plucking and drowning…

And the gardens are looking amazing - everyone says so - not just me! It’s good for us to take a minute to really gaze at them and enjoy them at their June peak (so long as we don’t take stopping for a minute as a nap’portunity). In the next week we’ll be lost in deadheading the roses and Lady’s mantle (Alchemilla mollis) but right now, this moment, they’re pretty perfect.

We’ve been entertained by a rather exciting electrical rainstorm this afternoon that has brought back some chilly breezes and I’m feeling a titch more energetic all of a sudden (which isn’t to say I couldn’t nap on the bench right now). Do you hit a Wall or get “the slows” this time of year? What do you do to get over it?

It’s so convenient that our busiest days of the year are also the longest! There’s so much fun stuff to do in - and out of - our gardens. Tomorrow is the very longest day of the year. What are you going to do?

Number 1 on my list is to get up early - might as well make the most of it, right? You know by now that I prefer early light for pictures of my walk around the gardens - by mid morning this time of year, the sunlight is already bleachy and squint inducing. If only I had sunglasses for my camera too…

It’s also evidently a perfect time to do a little yoga in the great outdoors. Everyone who took this class looked fresh and lively as they were leaving. I heard one yogi say, “That was a great way to start the day!” (This was the first of a six week class in the North Garden: Thursdays from 8 - 9am. Click here for info!)

There are plenty of garden chores to go around - keep planting if you haven’t finished. We set a deadline of July 4th for finishing our major planting projects. We’re in pretty good shape this year and are almost done already! (I still have a lot to plant at home though…)

Cut back your autumn bloomers (like asters, montauk daisies and chrysanthemums) now if you want them to be full, bushy and a little less floppish come fall. They’ll start to set buds in early July so that’s another task with a July 4th-ish deadline. We cut ours back by half or at least a third.

Check out and be impressed by how enormous your plants are already. The teasel (Dipsacus) and the cardoons (Cynara cardunculus) - both biennials - are budded up and nearly as tall as me (not that I’m a giant - but that’s pretty tall for this early in the season!)

Stop and smell the roses and while you’re at it, you might as well deadhead them. The Rose Garden was thickly perfumed today and full of spent blooms. Good thing it’s a long day - Lilah and Ellie worked on these roses (un-named — anyone recognize it??) for hours!

Keep your eyes out for wildlife - the baby katydids are out and about. Have you seen a baby praying mantis yet? Look for problem children too. I spotted spots on our Tupelo (Nyssa sylvatica) but have been unable to identify it. (Looks like a bad case of acne to me.)

There’s probably still time in the day to do a little weeding and perhaps after that you might go for a sail… Or at least sit back and think about how nice it would be to have a sunset tour on a boat like the one moored beyond the blooming tamarix…

The most important thing to do on these longest days is enjoy the heck out of them dawn to dusk! And have a very happy solstice. (Some say it’s the start of summer but I’m pretty sure it marks the start of winter’s shortening days. I know that sounds pessimistic now, but come winter solstice - my official start of summer - you’ll see I’m an optimist all over again!)

I have been trying for a couple of weeks to find words to express my sadness - my blues, as a matter of fact - that Mary Philbrick, one of the people who makes this place so special, won’t be walking up the greenhouse steps today saying “Yoo hoo” and “Never get old, Kris” with a smile so bright she really made “old” even more worth shooting for. Yesterday a memorial service was held for her in the tent here at Blithewold. I haven’t seen Mary since before my Paris trip in March (while I was following her advice and visiting God in Ste. Chapelle, she was being diagnosed with leukemia) and it really only started to register that I won’t be gardening with her again as I scanned the crowd (S.R.O - this woman was beloved!) to see where she was sitting. For those of you who don’t know Mary, for 22 years she was a volunteer gardener with the Deadheads on Tuesday mornings (her best friend/husband Dick plants and tends the vegetable garden) and she dug and weeded through the third floor archives for about 21 of those years as well.

I think Mary is waiting for her euloblogy - tapping her feet and saying, “C’mon, Kris!” - (she was one of the first to enthuse about my writing) but she was the writer and wordsmith - not me by a longshot. I wish she would hurry up and write this because it would be wicked funny and probably even rhyme. Alas I’m having trouble channeling her…

No matter. The thing is I don’t think she’s gone far. This was her place and she’s still here encouraging us to make it more gorgeous and more interesting and have a laugh riot while we’re at it. I think we’ll all see her in the color blue she wore almost every day and think of her while we deadhead the mind numbing Balloon flower (Platycodon) and when go in for tea we’ll always have to pour her a cup. She’s still here. She who laughs, lasts.

The heat broke yesterday and I think we’re all enjoying today’s reminder about why it’s worth every cent to live in or at least visit coastal New England - it’s all about the sea breeze! The wind off the water is deliciously cool and perfumed right now with salty beach roses (Rosa rugosa), the awfully invasive yet lovely-when-it-blooms Rosa multiflora and little sips of one of our other favorites invasives - Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica). I feel like I’m walking around nose first. Even during our record breaking heat wave, when inhaling was physically uncomfortable I wanted to be sniffing and smelling and breathing deeply. I have a feeling that the term “Dog days” refers to wanting to lie on the floor with tongues lolling but it’s just occurred to me that it could be about catching summer scents the way my new editorial assistant noses around when we go for walkies (Everyone, meet Nino! Nino, this is everyone). I feel like I could close my eyes as we walk and know exactly where I am:

Under the Japanese snowbell (Styrax japonicum ‘Pink Chimes’)

Strolling by the Fringe tree (Chionanthus virginicus)

Passing by the sweet peas (slowly)

Resting near the Sundrops (Oenothera fruticosa)

And working in the (peaking!) Rose Garden - today we put down a layer of buckwheat hull mulch - it’s looking very elegant and smells divine!

All of this olfactory stimulation is stirring my desire for more-more-more scents galore in my own garden (I have a R. rugosa and a lot of lavender coming into bloom soon but most of the rest is for looks so far). But I wonder can there ever be too much? What have you planted for scent this time of year in your garden? Do you have any clashes or is it a symphony of sniffs?

And the plants are too. For the last few days we’ve been hit by summer like a sucker punch to the gut with no chance to acclimate - one day it was chilly sweater weather; the next sent us gasping to our storage closets to find a pair of shorts that still fit. Even though we had a good soaking rain at the end of last week, plants are wilted. New growth on things like daphnes (this is Daphne ‘Carol Mackie’ on the right) hasn’t had time to “harden off” and is too wimpy to stand up to early onset hot washcloth summer weather. And the beach roses (Rosa rugosa) are in a floppy full bloom - their scent mingled in the heavy salty air makes breathing deeply seem like a really good idea.

There are weather advisories to stay indoors but at Blithewold the work is outside no matter what the weather - because it’s planting time! We gave the volunteers the day off though to seek A/C and Gail, Joel, Cathy, Lilah and I finished (almost) planting the newest Display Garden bed and then we spread a cool shady layer of shredded leaves. And I pondered on all the ways we give our annuals a fighting chance (even when we plant during a heat wave). Spreading mulch on newly planted beds really gives new plants a leg up by cooling the soil (you might think a thick blanket would warm it, but no…) and slowing evaporation.

And then there’s care-full planting: Have you ever popped an annual out of the ground at the end of the season and noticed that, like canned cranberry sauce, its root ball is still in the shape of a pot? Teasing root bound roots seems like abuse but most of the time it’s a good idea (there are a few things that resent root disturbance - when in doubt, best to look it up). I start by loosening roots from the top down to encourage the spiraling feeders to go south and depending on just how bound the plant was, I scuff the sides and bottom until there’s little evidence the plant was ever in container jail.

I’ve also noticed that some plants fail to thrive when they haven’t been planted deeply enough. If you can feel the edge of the root zone above the level of the soil, it’s been planted too high. Dig again! No cheaters either - if you just pile soil on top and hope for the best, what you’ll probably get is a wash out and an dried husk of a snapdragon. As a matter of fact, if you plant deeply enough to create a pocket all around the plant for catching water you’ll save yourself the disappointment of runoff when you water. My last tip of the day (I’m full of them today, aren’t I?) is to cut back your annuals when you plant them especially if they’re in full forced bloom. I know it’s tough but I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate the gusto of branching and new blooms later.

Phew. If I hadn’t already retreated to the (dis)comfort of home, I might be inclined to stretch out on the guys’ latest creation. (It’s another Fred Perry original.) You’ve heard of stepables? What about sitables?! The herbs they planted in their hypertufa bench will be an overstuffed cushion in no thyme.

Marjorie Shaw Jeffries, recipient of the Marjorie Van Wickle Lyon Award at Wednesday night’s Annual Meeting said that it has taken her a long time to figure out why everyone feels so strongly about Blithewold. And she grew up loving this place! Marjorie Jeffries is Marjorie Van Wickle Lyon’s niece, Augustine Van Wickle Shaw’s daughter and Bessie and Augustus Van Wickle’s grand-daughter (Click for the Blithewold family history). She summered here as a child and since her aunt died and Blithewold was opened to the public, Marjorie has been making priceless contributions of stories, letters and family articles to the archives as well as musical performances and her own art for visitors’ enjoyment. In her award acceptance speech she talked about her attachment to the property through her family ties and her astonishment that this place could mean so much to others. She said she’s come to realize that “it’s the people that make Blithewold so special”. And it’s true. Just look at this pack of gorgeous and filthy people who gave their all yesterday planting the Rose Garden and tell me it’s not true!

It’s a beautiful property, ideally situated with stunning and unusual specimen plants but that’s not what resonates the most for those of us who are attached to it. “It’s the people.”

Blithewold is well loved and in a way like the velveteen rabbit - it is “Real” and somehow comforting. I think even first-time visitors get a sense of its soul. Not every landscape has a soul - you know the ones that don’t - they hardly bear a wander and a pause. But any garden created with love and attention can stop us in our tracks and make us wish we knew its people. Are there gardens (besides your own) that are “Real” in this way for you?

- make light work, so the saying goes. I totally agree! I just read a blog post here by veggie garden guru Barbara Damrosch in which she shares a how-to put your houseguests to work in the garden. What a great idea! I can imagine plying my friends with promises of a super refreshing beverage if only that bed over there got weeded and mulched… But would they still want to stay at chez nous? (As it is now, g&ts and pots of tea are doled out with no strings attached.) Nearly every visitor to Blithewold that catches a group of us working says “Can you come weed at my house too?” I always want to say, “Hold your horses - my house first!” When the volunteers are all happily weeding and chatting and planting and chatting and having a tea break and chatting I wonder why I never hear about garden work parties. Just think: like a bookclub or movie group you could meet every month at someone’s house and help them plant a bed, build a wall, weed the back forty or dead head the zinnias. The host could be expected to provide something delicious from the garden or the local pizza place. Sounds ideal, doesn’t it? Or do you prefer a solitary putter? When I work on my own I like not having to worry about being organized. I can shooting-gallery-bear back and forth to the shed for tools and get lost in a catatonic gaze now and then. But on the other hand, when I have help things actually get done!

Today we had many many hands helping at each end of the property. Some of the Deadheads went to the Rose Garden to spiff it up before our annual meeting tomorrow night. I think attendees attention will be stolen from the volunteers’ efforts though by the Clematis ‘Nelly Moser’ that is poised to engulf the Visitor Center and the sublime and luminous Clematis ‘Guernsey Cream’ as well as all the roses that are bursting to bust into bloom.

At this end of the property we motored right through planting more (more! more!) in the new bed. For the record, I am LOVING the new bed. We placed groves of basils (Pistou, Minette, Boxwood, African Blue and Queenette), rivers of Swiss Chard (Flamingo Pink, Vulcan, Oriole Orange, Canary Yellow) and acres of grasses and Dahlias among other things too numerous to mention on this page. And after tea the entire group of Deadheads converged on the Cutting Bed - another layer of which was planted in about 10 minutes. It’s amazing how quickly it all comes together with so many hands to help!

p.s. Remember the plant we weren’t sure was a weed? It’s my new favorite! Turns out it’s Rudbeckia ‘Green Wizard’ finally in bloom (yes, that’s a bloom you betcha) and we planted it on purpose last year.