The Hazel Bloom

Lamb's Ear

I know this is primarily a food blog, and so if you see the title of this post, you may have already "ewwwww"ed. No worries. Today I'm talking about a plant.

 
Photo Credit: Moosey's Country Garden from This Old House's Best Plants for Colorful Foliage

Lamb's Ear (Stachys byzantina) is one of the cutie patooties of the plant world. What makes it so cute, you ask? Its thick silvery leaves are so fuzzy, they're practically hairy. In a good way. We're not talking man's scary back hair hairy. We're talking, I don't know, baby head hairy. Abundant peach fuzz hairy. Good hairy.

But as we all know, looks aren't everything. The groundcover grows easily and nearly maintenance-free in carefree mounds anywhere from 6 - 18 inches high. Those hairy silver leaves provide great contrast in the garden, both in texture and in color. The flowers? Admittedly unimpressive. Lamb's Ear is all about the cute, contrasting foliage - its fuzzy spikes with little pink flowers are an afterthought, though the bees do love 'em.

Here we see Lamb's Ear bordering the gravel circle in a New York garden. Neat, huh?

Photo credit: Matthew Benson, from Country Living's "Explore a Cloistered Garden"

Why am I all about the Lamb's Ear right now, you ask? Well, just a few days ago, I was thumbing through one of many home and garden magazines scattered around here. When I came across a mention of Lamb's Ear, and I felt a little sad. See, when I moved out of my little cottage a year ago to get all domestic with my guy at his house, we brought a bunch of my plants with us. But for some silly reason, we left behind all the Lamb's Ears. Wah.

And so, just a couple of days after mourning the Lamb's Ears left behind, I was out front weeding when I came across this.

A little bitty Lamb's Ear plant! I guess the stubborn little bugger piggybacked over on one of the other perennials last year.

And so I took him around to the backyard and planted him in the spot I was thinking of back when I was bemoaning our lack of Lamb's Ears.

If he survives the transplant, it'll take him awhile to fill the space. But I'm willing to wait.

Want to learn more? 

There are a few different varieties of Lamb's Ears. Learn more on one of these terrific web sites.

• Fine Gardening Plant Guide
  
• Sunset Plant Finder
• Martha Stewart
• HGTV
  
• GardenWeb.com Forums: "Help I can't get rid of my lamb's ear and I don't really like it"
  Equal opportunity linking, here. Lamb's Ear can be considered invasive. If you like tight control over your garden, it may not be for you.

Chives and Bees, Chives and Bees!

A couple of months ago, I got my big girl camera. A Canon Rebel T1i and oh, people. This thing is fun.

I haven't done much with it yet. I can tweak here and there, but mostly I put my budget-friendly and so-worth-the-money 50mm f/1.8 lens on and just snap away.

I can't wait to learn more, and oh my, there is so much to learn.

Today I thought I'd share some photos I took in my herb garden, of my beautiful blooming chives and the cute little fuzzy honey bees attracted to it.

Kind of boring, I know, but I couldn't help myself.

One picture:

Next picture:

Are you bored yet? Reminded of that time at Aunt Edna's when she just kept pulling out photo album after photo album packed with football pictures of Dad? (If you actually have an Aunt Edna with sports-themed photo albums, that's really going to wig me out, because I just whipped that out of nowhere.)

More:

He looked like a fuzzy little bee-bunny there!

More:

Oh, and check this out. There aren't any bees in this one, and it was a complete accident. I love it, though.

That's it for today. Please do come back and visit The Hazel Bloom again, y'all. I'm usually far more exciting than this.

(At least, I hope I am.)

A Cat and His Nip

Allow me to introduce you, officially, to Tigger.

Tigger is high.

 

Tigger has officially discovered the catnip in the herb garden. He's even been fighting off other cats for the rights to his stash.

(He's discovered that it's not easy to fight off doped up cats, however, so the key is to guard proactively instead of chase off reactively. High cats don't seem to get the usual signals. He hisses, they purr. He lunges, they stand there dumbly, head tilted.)

Tigger's packed down a round little hard patch of dirt in front of his drug of choice. I'm pretty sure if I try to plant anything there, it'll meet an extremely early demise.

Maybe I should just try planting more catnip in his laying spot, so that he can have an entire bed of it and not just a catnip pillow.

Wait. Can a cat OD on catnip?

Never mind. We've got plenty of catnip here.

Enough to keep the kitty happy.

Very happy. And quite possibly seeing things.

But mostly I'm pretty sure he's just happy.

(In case you're wondering: This perennial that grew very easily from seed in my well-drained, sunny herb garden, and though I'd personally rather not eat it, it's certainly worth the entertainment factor if nothing else.)

My Veggie Garden: A Love Story

It's not every day a guy offers to build a gal a full-blown garden in his backyard. Sure, it'd gotten to the point where the dogs and I were at his house more often than I was at my own, and clearly we were headed in the direction where eventually I'd be there full time (considering my little cottage barely fit one human and two dogs, let alone more). But I was blown away, thrilled, giddy, and a little freaked out by what started out as "you can plant a few vegetables here if you want," and ended up an amazing vegetable and herb garden complete with arbor, gate, and picket fence.

It was about a year ago at this time that Spring Fever and its close relative Gardening Virus hit me, hard. But I was pretty much living in two places since my guy entered my life and rocked my world a year previous - and I knew a garden at my little cottage would die a neglected death. A garden at his place may fare a little better, but wouldn't get 24/7 attention, either. Conundrum.

After weeks of watching me pine over HGTV and gardening magazines and listening to me fret about how I could possibly have a successful garden in this state of flux, he offered up his yard. I could build a little bed in a sunny spot, if I wanted - he promised to take care of it when I wasn't there. Plus, he has a sprinkler system and this may just be a terrific opportunity for him to geek out over systems, soaker hoses, and timers... it'd work.

So with very little hesitation, I scoped out the sunniest areas of the yard and started thinking about how we could build a 3x6 or so raised bed against the fence. As I tend to do, I obsessed and surfed the Web (Google image search is a wonderful, dangerous thing), and obsessed even more so when he mentioned that we should think of some way to protect the bed with edging or a small fence so my dogs couldn't run through it. And what about leveraging an entire corner instead of just placing it against the fence?

Say, this sunny corner?

With a little more obsessing, mulling, and surfing, a "few vegetables" turned into a sketch of a 12x12 plot complete with picket fence and arbor entrance. Having never built such a thing before, my guy, showing signs of being only slightly overwhelmed, did some mulling and surfing and researching of his own. And then he was ready to transform my lofty design into reality.

Visions of HGTV two-day transformations in mind, we set aside the three-day Memorial Day weekend as an all-work all-garden-building set of days. My guy and his saintly roommate did most of the hard labor.

 

As a (usually) pretty dang independent chick, I wanted to be in there doing everything along with the guys - digging the two-foot-deep post holes in rock-filled, hard pan soil and sawing lumber ("I can do it too!") - but more often than not, my chivalrous guy insisted on doing the super tough stuff while I looked on with sandwiches and trays of lemonade (and plenty of beer). And I didn't totally mind that. Scary.

My wonderful guy built my garden complete with picket fence to keep the doggies out (except, um, when I invite them in), and a massive, wonderful arbor marking the entrance. Inside are two raised beds - an 11 foot by 3.5 foot bed for vegetables, and a 5 foot by 3.5 foot bed for herbs. There's room for a couple of containers, too - a half wine barrel, and a galvanized tub perfect for peppermint. And I crammed a garden bench in there, too. We mulched around the beds and containers with several bags of eco-friendly hazelnut shells.

We bought two cubic yards of the wonderful Bailey's compost out of Snohomish, Washington (two cubic yards was a HUGE amount, by the way!). And then I planted, and planted, and planted.

 

 
It was a crazy, but productive, Memorial Day weekend.

My guy suddenly had a full-blown garden in his bachelor backyard.

But as it turned out, he really didn't need to watch over the garden when I wasn't there, and he wasn't going to be a bachelor much longer. The next morning, he asked me to move in with him. I think he knows I would have said yes, garden or no, but I suspect he felt a little better bringing it up when he'd just done the most romantic (and permanent!) thing anyone has done for me - built me the most amazing suburban backyard garden I've seen. This year, we're getting married. Not under the arbor, mind you - that would have been perfect, no? But we're having our wedding rehearsal under it.

And I - the luckiest girl in the world, I'm pretty sure - am looking forward to many happy veggie, herb, and flower-filled years ahead.

 

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Hungry for more about gardening? Check out the new GrowCookEat weekly feature over on the wonderful goodLife{eats}.

Window Shelf - Think Outside the Box!

Spring has sprung in Seattle. In fact, spring has been springing for the better part of a month now. Daffs have been blooming for weeks, rhodies are starting to show some colors, and the cherry blossoms are full-on.

While last year, we had the rarest blizzard ever and were snowed in by a good two feet of the white stuff, this year has been, well, the polar opposite. No snow to speak of, very few freezing days, and now, when we should be in the thick of winter, there's nary a snowflake or patch of black ice to be seen.

I shouldn't complain. I hate the bone-chilling, ever-damp, dark gray Seattle winters. 

But the truth is, I haven't been ready for spring. It's just not the right time. I mean, what if I accept it and let spring fever overcome me and then, wham, two months of gloom?  What a cruel joke.

This week, though, I let a couple people convince me. "I think spring just came early this year!" "Winter? We already had it."

They better be right, because now I'm feeling the inklings. I bought some lettuce seeds. I whipped out the plans for our backyard after months of disinterest (now there will be a project). I'm ready to weed, plant, mulch, and bask in the sun with a nice margarita.

I do have a point, other than the fact that Mother Nature has suckered me and she's undoubtedly up there laughing her ass off right about now.

Here's my point: I was going through some old photos and found these from a couple of years ago. At the time, I lived in a tiny old cottage that lent itself super well to shabby thrift-store chic. So naturally, I went with it. It was so fun.

One year, I redid the backyard on $100 of plants, a bunch of repurposed thrift store stuff, and a serious case of spring fever. The back of the house was a little bare, so one of the things I did was pick up a gold metal shelf for a quarter, gave it a shot of white paint, screwed it to the house right below a window, and gathered a few plants in some old terra cotta pots on it for a makeshift window box.

Not only was it way easier to assemble and install than a full blown window box, it was so easy to switch pots and plants around with the seasons and my whims. Super flexible.

Look closely - see it under the umbrella? Note: This was not an excuse to show you, yet again, my cute dogs. Really. Truly. But aren't Angel and Lizzie cute?

Anyway, I loved my little window shelf. Still do, when I see these photos. So I thought I'd share the idea, and maybe also share a little spring fever. I mean, even if it isn't officially here, it's right around the corner.

I hope.

I Was a Winner in the December Fine Gardening Photo Challenge!

I won! I won! I won Fine Gardening's December WInter Gardens Photo Contest! I’m very excited, can you tell?

Okay, so I was one of four winners, but still. And the other three winners’ photos were far better than mine, but still.

My winning photo? This one.

“Forgotten Tomato.”

When I wrote about My Frosty Garden, this was one of the pics I included.

I miss my garden. Soon, garden, soon, I’ll be back.

Thanks to the wonderful folks over at Fine Gardening for your terrific website, for selecting my photo, and for giving me a chance to pimp The Hazel Bloom (I’m a little embarrassed that my blurb is the longest – couldn’t stop talking about myself, I guess)!

My Frosty Garden

It's coooolllddd here in Seattle. Yeah, I know it's winter and that cold thing does tend to happen in the winter, but Seattle winters tend to be fairly mild. We're hardly San Diego, but we don't usually spend too much time below freezing.

The past few days, we've experienced our first morning frosts of the season. At our house, the overnight freezes prompted us to finally buy a windshield scraper (credit cards should be used for shopping, not scraping, goshdarnit!). And I've finally given in to hats and gloves (I already wear scarves constantly so we're good there). And I've learned just how beautiful the garden can be when covered in a sparkly layer of frost.

I was puttering around Saturday morning and glanced outside at the chilly world. I noticed my quail-topped faux weathervane had a this perfect frosty outline - so I had to grab my camera, slip on some shoes and head out to take a closer look.

(Besides owls, quails are the cutest birds to grace birddom - that's what I think.)

Never one to stop at one (or five) pictures, I snapped a few more.

 

Poor frosty peppermint. You bet your bippy they made me think about the possibility of frosty mojitos, but then I realized it was 7 in the morning.
 

This is our patio table. It's not actually in the garden, but it looks so cool when it's, you know, cool - so I had to share.
 

This is my tower of galvanized tubs (and watering can). I stacked them when I was getting the garden ready for winter - a little out-of-season aesthetic interest.
 

The dogs aren't huge fans of the garden. I'm behind a gate in HERE and they're stuck out THERE and it's just not cool!

I guess I forgot about this little guy. Poor roma.
 

No, Lizzie, I have not forgotten about you!
 

Frosty hens and chicks in a thrift store wire shoe made planter.
 

My dad made me this bird house, using an old boat cleat as the little rest. He's very clever.
 

The berries of a woodbine honeysuckle (Berries Jubilee). They add really wonderful winter interest. I've nearly forgiven the plant for its lackluster summer performance. Maybe it'll be happier next year, after it's had some time to establish itself.
 

Oh, Liz. Poor, neglected, abused Liz.

Lizzie has a mood spot. See that pink patch atop her snout? It gets really pink sometimes. Usually after heated encounters with the cat or during vet visits. Here, it's an agitated-but-not-quite-yet-beside-herself pink.

No worries, we went back inside and she got a nice big Milkbone shortly after this to make up for my egregious behavior.
 

 

Stay toasty, ladies and gents! Winter is officially upon us.

Ornamental Red Crane Cabbage in a Container

I saw this Red Crane Cabbage at the grocery store and fell in love. Huge silvery green and purple rose-like blooms bowing from foot-tall stems. Come to mama.

Ornamental cabbage is a terrific annual for Pacific Northwest landscapes. It prefers the chill of fall and winter, so it's a great choice for adding color during the colder months. There are tons of varieties with shades of white and purple, frilly leaves or not, some perched atop long stems like the crane, but most sitting right on the ground. They can look especially impressive grouped together in masses.

I think this particular guy, though, would be cute in a container with mums and pansies. But I decided I like it so much, that it just needed to be by itself.

Well, maybe with a little surprise pumpkin tucked in at the base for Halloween.

The Garden's Last Breaths

Now that it's October, I can no longer remain in denial. Fall is here.

What a terrific summer it was, though. We had amazing sunny weather here in Seattle, from June on. The gardening season was phenomenal. We couldn't have picked a better year for our rookie garden.

But it's time for our little garden to wind down. But before I pull, plow, and winterize, it's time to pause and enjoy a few hangers-on and last breaths.

I still can't believe my awesome guy built this garden for me last May. (I'll tell that story sometime later.) Isn't it cute?! (By the way, the poles really are perfectly straight in real life. My camera did weird things this morning.)

We've still got a few tomatoes, but with the weather cooling down, they don't seem very happy anymore. Maybe I need to try my hand at some green tomato chutney.

A nasturtium, and my huge herd of lovable Honey Bear sunflowers. They just keep growing. 

The nasturtiums took awhile to get going, but then they grew and grew and grew.

Not only a simple little flower and so easy to grow, but gorgeous, too.

The Lone Gourd. I only got one this year. Next year I try my, ahem, hand... at hand pollination.

Could that be?! Some stubborn, fuzzy little strawberries?!

I'm not really sure what to expect with the herb garden and what might successfully overwinter. Here we've still got plenty of oregano, thyme, and chives. 

And this little lady is certainly a little worse for the wear, but she still smiles from her home in the oregano. I think she's wise.

The zinnias are still going crazy! As you can tell, I just kind of let them go the last couple of months or so.

 

And here a still-impeccable Green Envy Zinnia reigns over all.

If any birds could actually find the bird house, maybe they'd use it. And uh oh, still a lot of mint in its container below - guess we'll have to make some more mojitos!

 

Oh, these are the red berries of a Berries Jubilee woodbine honeysuckle. It has yellow flowers in the spring and summer, and pretty berries in the fall. It's supposed to be a fast grower, but it didn't scramble up the arbor like I'd hoped. I love how colorful it is, though. Maybe next year it'll do better.

Here's a picture of Angelyne that is weird, but also kind of cool. So I thought I'd share.

Ahh, garden. I'm going to miss you.

But let's be sure to do beautiful things together again next year.

Ohme Gardens: Oh My

Ohme Gardens is really spectacular.

Perched atop a hill overlooking Wenatchee, Washington, Ohme (pronounced "Oh Me") is far from your typical showy botanical garden, in a very good way – at least, this time of year it is. It's pure hardscape and texture. It's so very... vertical... and it made me feel kind of like I was in A Sound of Music. That, and like I was a mountain goat. Hey! There were mountain goats in The Sound of Music, right? Puppets!

I guess kind of like that.

Anyway, I can't recount just how many times I've driven by over the years, peered up at the green oasis gripping the side of an otherwise desert-like hill, and idly wondered what it's really like up there. Last weekend, we stopped by on a whim to check it out. Yeah. Spectacular. 

 

With countless stone paths winding up, down, and all around, the construction of Ohme Gardens began back in 1929, when Herman Ohme purchased the property and began to work on the landscaping. He soon married Ruth and they had plans to build on the property – but this was during the Great Depression, and loans were nearly impossible to come by. So they kept plugging away at the land.

 

Reportedly, Ruth has said, "We just wanted to build a nice backyard." The "backyard" eventually grew to nine acres.

The single most impressive aspect is what they did with stones. With the use of crow bars, donkeys, and army stretchers, they moved and placed stone paths, benches, pits, even a couch with arms! How cool is this?!

Creative seating like this is built into the landscape all over, inviting visitors to sit and ponder. And what better place to ponder, than by one of the tranquil ponds? Pond, ponder? ... sorry. Here are a couple of pond photos to distract you from my dorky attempts at humor.

The Ohmes worked on the gardens for 40 years, pretty much until Herman passed away.

One of my favorite parts is the Vista House.

... And the panoramic view of the Wenatchee Valley and Columbia River from the inside:

Oh, and a wishing well! I think wishing wells are so romantic.

And a campfire pit. Can't you just see the family roasting marshmallows here? Oh, and there would totally have been a guy with a guitar. There's always a guy with a guitar.

So that's a taste of Ohme Gardens. Though I think you've really got to see it in person to fully appreciate it. But they're only open six months out of the year, so you'd better skedaddle! Washington State Parks owns the property now, and charges only $7 admission. You can learn more at www.ohmegardens.com.

(Yo del laydee yodelaydee yodeloo.)