Red, Blue and . . .

Blue catmint (Nepeta 'Walker's Low') swirling around red Asiatic lilies. (A white peony is nearby....)

Happy Fourth of July !

Rosemary Before

I suppose I should give us one last look at this rosemary (Rosemarinus officinalis 'Tuscan Blue') in its current state, as it's scheduled for radical surgery Thursday of next week. It's another one of those plants bought cheaply in a one-gallon pot that grew in four years to about its current size, which is about 7 feet high by 10 feet wide. That's after I whack the heck out of it twice a year. I mean about a pickup-load's worth.

Lots of gardeners grow rosemary here, and lavender too, and we're all amazed at how magnificent they are. This plant is on the west-north side of the garden, so gets pummeled by winds and colds -- and doesn't care a bit. Every year luscious growth over and down to the sidewalk, sweet clear-blue flowers, and a deep aromatic scent.

Jessica told me three years ago that I should prune it heavily before it got out of hand, but I've hardly ever listened to anybody and I suppose I'm too old to start now. The biggest problem, which you can barely see in the third photo, is that it's taking over the Rosa glauca -- in fact has stunted its growth for a couple years now -- and I LOVE the Rosa glauca and want it to flourish.

So, major surgery it is. Tuscan Blue won't mind at all; it's one of those land starfish. Lost a limb? No problem! It'll grow back!

The only thing rosemary needs is excellent drainage, which everything on the West Bank gets.

Which reminds me: I need to finish watering.

Graham Thomas

This gorgeous black pussy willow (Salix gracilistyla v. melanostachys) started out eight years ago as a one-gallon multi-branched twig and now look at it: about 20 feet wide by maybe 12 feet high. It sweeps out over the sidewalk, with the lowest branches kept pruned to stay about 5-1/2 feet off the ground. The younger kids love to walk underneath it, "like an umbrella," they say, and run their hands on the soft golden oregano (Oreganum vulgare 'Aureum') that carpets its feet.

In this photo you are looking east, which means the willow and the oregano face west, and the drainage is superb because the area behind the foundation wall is filled nearly to the brim with rocks. Even so, this willow, which I'll write more about in the winter when you can see why it's called the black pussy willow and when I'll really need something to write about, doesn't need much additional water when the rains stop. What does need water is the plant that grows within it (one of the flowers just barely shows within the white square).

It is THIS:::::

Rosa Graham Thomas, named after the horticulturalist and former Gardens Advisor to the British (minus Scotland, which has its own) National Trust. Mr. Thomas was planted here when the willow was a wee twig and I didn't believe things that started that small would ever get this big in my garden. Three or four years ago Mr. Thomas got completely lost in the willow and I figured that was it. The next year I was hauling something down those steps to the garage and -- whoa! -- lookat that!

The chance encounter with the willow has saved Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas is otherwise rather spindly and has trouble holding up his apricot-flesh-colored flowers. (The buds open an even deeper apricot and the flowers eventually fade to a buttery yellow. A proper gentleman, Mr. Thomas never shows any harshness in color.) The willow acts a bit like an umbrella for Mr. Thomas, too, otherwise his 30+ petals would turn to mush like every other. And the willow hides the lousy foliage that'll be coming along soon. As Mr. Thomas is a David Austin rose, it has a terrific (fresh tea) scent but gets blackspot as soon as you say the word out loud.

This is the only rose left in my garden that didn't come from Heirloom Nursery, but you can find it there and grow it through something of your own. It blooms continuously from mid/late June through frost here and I give it a prune just to get rid of any dead parts after the leaves fall from the willow. Otherwise, regular water and the usual treatment of organic 5-5-5 a couple times a year plus an inch or two of soil-building compost.

Do you believe that plants just get lucky, as Mr. Thomas did in being overtaken by the willow? Or, look at the question another way: Is it possible that there are no coincidences? (Hat tip to M. Night Shyamalan.)