Digging RI

This post is long on photos and short on chit chat.  I went on a garden tour in southern RI this weekend and spent about an hour in one of the most gorgeous gardens I have EVER seen.

What makes it so special? A combination of thoughtful plantings, spectacular views of the ocean, intriguing glacial moraine and the good taste of the homeowners, who, by the way, have done the work themselves over 25 years. OK I’ll stop yakking now.

We entered by the “shade garden.” That’s one of the two houses, way up at the top.

This is one of the huge millstones that was on the property when the owner bought it. He turned it into a fountain.

There are several ponds in the garden. The gardener has strung monofilament over the water to prevent the predations of blue herons, who will eat every single fish, given the opportunity. Can’t blame them for trying….

A 100-step staircase takes you to the top of the garden and the main house. There’s also a more gentle path up.

This is your reward for the climb.

You can see the lawn of the shade garden in the lower right corner. Gives you an idea of the change in elevation.

More views: Here’s the rocky moraine section of the property, proof that like Earth, RI is not  flat.

We paused to drool (discreetly) over the deck.

And the pool.

We proceeded to the guest house, which also has a lovely pool.

You can get a great view of Block Island through a thoughtfully-placed scope.

Looking at the main house from the trail leading back down to the shade garden.

Mountain laurel, at peak bloom, covered the hillside.

Bird nesting boxes and hummingbird feeders, all well-maintained, were placed throughout the property.

There were so many places to sit and relax, I don’t know how I would choose a favorite. I’ll close with a shot of another enticing spot: a fireplace with a view.

A few years ago, someone gave me the white planter in the above photo. I tried growing all kinds of things in it, but it is just too shallow for most plants. I noticed that the one thing that seemed to thrive was moss, which I find attractive. Then a friend gave me a few alyssum and I put those in with the moss.

One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I had added a small pig, some beach pebbles, a shell or two, and several pieces of driftwood. It was beginning to look rather charming.

Now, marigold seedlings from last year’s failed planting are popping up and I’m letting them grow, just to see what happens. It all began with that moss.

Spot the sheep!

Hiking in an Audubon refuge recently, my friend and I came across this stunning sight. The large, thriving patch of aquiliegia canadensis, or Canadian – or Wild –  columbine. These native wildflowers were growing in light shade near a pond.

We have seen this plant before, of course, growing in damp but well-drained soil. It blooms here in late May. But we agreed that these were particularly stunning because of the very red sepals and bright yellow, contrasting petals. The foliage is also attractive – delicate and fern-like.

The red spur is filled with nectar, and these plants are visited by pollinators such as butterflies and hummingbirds.

I would not try to grow this plant in my border. It’s just too hot and dry here. But I understand it does very well in the garden, under the right conditions.

How about this wild azalea? Don’t you just want to pollinate it? We have seen several growing in the woods lately. They are classic understory plants, preferring the partial shade of the forest canopy. The foliage is rather sparse, but the blooms speak for themselves.

I have never seen as many Lady Slipper orchids as I have this spring. We come across them on almost every hike. The cypripedium acaule, also known as “moccasin flower,” grows in what must be rather acidic soil with all those pine needles. I have even seen one growing in a tiny cavity in a rock.

We had what many people call a “hard” winter here in RI. I think it was normal, and that recent winters here have been too mild. The spring has also been cool, which is what these orchids (and I ) like.

I did a little research and found out that there are forty species of orchids growing wild here in RI. All but one are natives, and eight species are probably extinct. Our wild orchids bloom from May to October in a wide variety of habitats. “Rhode Island Orchids” is a great source of information.

Here’s a final shot of Lady Slippers growing on a moss-covered boulder. So lovely in the dappled forest light.

The above photo was taken on Orrs Island.

We have just returned from another short but sweet couple of days in Maine. The coast is so different from ours here in RI. We don’t have that ruggedness – or the tidal range.

Speaking of tidal range, we walked our dog down to the shore at low tide, and she sank up to her elbows in stinky muck, which stayed on her paws when she got back in the car. Here she is, heading for the mud. Such are the joys of traveling with dogs.

We stopped for lunch near Bath, home of the Bath Iron Works shipyard. This is where the famous – or infamous – Zumwalt class destroyers are being built. We caught a glimpse of the first one, the USS Zumwalt. Two more are planned.

It is a strange-looking ship, narrow at the top and wide below, designed for maximum stealth, with a very low radar profile. However, there are also concerns about its vulnerability to capsizing in certain conditions. That’s it, at the end of the pier.

On the way home, we stopped at Kettle Cove in Cape Elizabeth. It was relatively uncrowded for a holiday weekend. This is a lovely, relaxing place to sit and watch the ocean. You can hang out on the grass, or go down to the beach. Either way it’s a mellow spot.

I smile every time I see a happy dog in a car or truck – and no, not when they’re INSIDE parked cars on hot days – only when they are on the move. Sometimes I can grab a photo.

Some are behind the wheel, looking serious and focused, while others are simply passengers enjoying the ride. No plant talk in this post – just cuteness.

I was struck by an article in the May 10 edition of the New York Times, in which the author, Diane Lewis, describes the growing dangers and consequences of the myriad of toxic chemicals we apply to our gardens, and especially our lawns. And just for the record, Lewis isn’t some well-intentioned hippie chick trying to get us all to “go green.” She is a physician, and the founder of the Great Healthy Yard Project.

The evidence is growing that these chemicals, which we don’t even need to apply, are entering our groundwater –  and therefore our drinking water –  and messing with our endocrine systems. It’s the cumulative effect that scientists are focusing on now. Endocrine disrupters have been linked to cancers and infertility, among other things. And bottled water isn’t any safer, because it, too, comes from groundwater.

But the chemical marketing is relentless and, unfortunately successful. The Roundup commercial equating the eradication of dandelions from a driveway to the manly defense of home and family is absurd, but the dudes are buying it. Glyphosate, the chemical in Roundup, is one of the most widely-used chemicals in American homes today.

The article in the Times quotes the US Fish and Wildlife Service as saying that “homeowners use up to 10 times more chemicals than farmers do.” And we don’t need to. Simply growing clover in your lawn fixes nitrogen and makes it greener. Letting the lawn grow a bit longer before mowing it and leaving the clippings to nourish the turf are also effective. And as for finicky plants like hybrid tea roses or fruits such as apples that require spraying in order to perform, I am done with those.

This is a growing public health issue, and something we should be paying very close attention to.

I have been asked not to say exactly where this trail is. I can tell you that it’s in RI, it’s absolutely gorgeous, and we didn’t see anyone else until we were nearly done.

We were hiking for three hours, up rocky outcroppings, over streams, and around stunning ponds, all with a backdrop of tender green.

The leaves are just beginning to emerge now, on the trees and on the forest floor. We’ve had a lot of rain lately, so the streams are quite vigorous. This one flows over the rocks and down into a lake.

The warblers are returning. I hope they gorge on the blackflies, which were just annoying enough to require a dose of repellent.

Here’s another lovely pond, so peaceful and unspoiled.

I  can’t think of a better way to spend a Sunday morning than exploring a beautiful place with a trusted hiking companion. It’s always so physically and mentally refreshing. The garden chores were waiting for me when I got home, and I got them done, too.

My only complaint is that weekends are so short! Before I know it, it’s Monday and time to get to work. But I didn’t waste a minute.

I came out of the house one morning last week and found this on our lawn. It is a rather substantial hole, with a few bits of fur at the entrance. I believe it’s an Eastern Cottontail nest – or was. It seems that it was  plundered by a predator, either a fox or a coyote, because there’s nothing in it now. Here’s a closer view. I am a very observant person and I am amazed I missed this entire drama: the nest, the kits, and the carnage. I must be losing my edge. Until last summer, our neighborhood had a healthy (and charming) population of foxes that kept the squirrel and rabbit populations in check. Then the foxes left for some reason and we were overrun with rabbits. Maybe the foxes have returned. Being low on the food chain must really suck for the bunnies.  Stay tuned.

I do believe I am becoming a wee bit ruthless as I grow older and more crotchety. This winter, I tossed a couple of underperforming orchids and a grapefruit that I had started from seed because it had scale and I couldn’t get rid of it. I felt no remorse, only relief. What’s happening to me?????

A couple of years ago, I planted two Buddleia “Blue Chip” because they were supposed to stay relatively small. They didn’t really, but the pollinators and I enjoyed them anyway. I planted one in each bed, on either side of the stairs. One of them got a little out of  control and I kept meaning to move it, but I never got around to it.

Here’s a look at the Buddliea in question, on the far left of the bed near the stairs.

This week, while preparing my beds for the season, I took a closer look at it and it appeared for all the world to have died. And it was much too big for its spot. So out it went. The second Buddliea is less intrusive, and looks a little more alive, so it can stay –  for now.

Here is The Doomed One, awaiting the truck which will take it far away.

Bye bye.