Saturday Morning Garden Blogging Vol. 4.18

Good morning, and something smells good!  Welcome to Saturday Morning Garden Blogging.

Here on the Colorado Front Range, we've finally gotten into "normal" weather for this time of year; it's about fucking time, as the first full day of Summer is upon us!

The forecasts are remarkably similar, day after day: highs in the mid 80s to low 90s, lows in the mid-50s to mid-60s, and a "chance of an afternoon or evening thunderstorm".

The trick to figuring out weather forecasts here is to understand that a "30% chance of rain" means that there's a 100% chance that it's going to rain somewhere, and a 30% chance that it's going to rain on you.  A higher percentage just means that it's a more widely-spread thunderstorm, increasing the likelihood that your neck of the woods will see moisture from the sky.  So far — we haven't gotten any.  Gotta run out and water the grass patch this morning.

And as to what smells good, it's not what's cooking in the kitchen; instead, it's one of the 5 dimensions of gardening.

Cross-posted at SquareState.net

This week, working in the front yard I've been blasted with wonderful scents as plantings have come into bloom.  And it struck me that, as I've planned (as much as I plan anything) my flower garden, I've considered factors that go beyond the 3 dimensions of height, width and depth and into... the Twilight Zone?

Nah, not the Twilight Zone, but factors of time and scent.

Right now I have lilies, roses, dianthus and lavender blooming, all contributing to an intricate perfume that fills the yard.  The rugosa hansa rose will — with diligent deadheading — continue blooming all season long.  We chose this rose for its ease of cultivation, size, long bloom period, and for its heady scent.

Although I have a succession of lilies coming along, they'll largely have finished blooming within 3 weeks (I've yet to have lilies bloom as late as August, as the planting information said they would).  But as they fade, agastache will come into bloom (I love the scent of agastache cana — just like bubble gum!).

I'm getting some preliminary blossoms on the nicotiana and, along with datura, they'll soak the warm, night-time air with fragrance until the frost knocks them out.  I've given up on moonflowers — imopoea alba; if I get blooms at all, they come so late in the season it's too cool for enjoyable porch sitting.

Some of the dianthus will continue blooming if I keep it deadheaded, but not all of it.  Even after the lavender has finished blooming, its foliage gives off fragrance when brushed.  Agastache is similar — its leaves are scented as well as its flowers.  And I grow roman chamomile not for its blossoms, but for its minty-green apple scented, feathery foliage.

Springtime, of course, is given over to the intense fragrance of hyacinth (that reminds me; I need to go to Van Engelen and place my order for forcing hyacinth, so I'll have the scent of Spring in the depths of February).  In the fall, it's the autumn clematis.

One of my great challenges has been to find scented plantings for my shady corner: for whatever reason, it seems that few shade-tolerant plants are highly scented, and those that are scented (violets, lily of the valley) bloom for very short periods.  I do have a potted jasmine plant back there, but not an every-blooming one (have to look for one of those).

But later on today, there will be other good smells around here — and yes, from the kitchen.  Today is the Garden Blogging Garden Party and Meeting of the Colorado Chocolate Fountain Caucus.  The refrigerator is well stocked with soda.  I have large hunks of meat (flank steak and pork loin) awaiting a long soak in marinade and being slapped on the grill.

As is usual, I have no firm idea of how many people might show up.  It could be a large crowd, as several people have indicated they are bringing more people.  So will it be 20?  30?  More?  Whatever — I still have name tags from last time.

That's what's happening here.  What's going on in your gardens?