But this one’s dead.
As gardeners we must learn to deal with these things. We are strong, we are brave, we are driven and we are just the tiniest bit nuts.
Thus begins part two of the saga of the clematis cuttings, based on a huge long tedious book that you would never get through so fortunately I’ve made this condensed version with only the essential technical gardening stuff in it. (I cut out the back-room seed-pod deals, chlorophyll money, hot flower affairs and sordid root scandals because I knew you wouldn’t take ANY interest in those things unless maybe you are Cathy and she’ll just have to use her imagination.)
The music lightens…
It’s been about 6 weeks, and this cutting is still alive-
Yes it is a Clematis montana, which I believe is a pretty wild and tough species type that you probably can’t kill even if a dead cutting was something you really really wanted. But wait, there’s more…
This is a cutting from a large flowered clematis. For those of you who need specific nomenclature, it’s the one by the gate.
Oh all right, here is a picture.
This is another large flowered one that is new and hasn’t actually bloomed its purple blooms yet. Those little sprouts are coming! The rest of the ten survivors look like the ones shown above and, because I like you, I didn’t photograph them all. (They are still in their little plastic-bag-covered pots, sitting outside in shade, which isn’t too important because it rains all the time anyway.)
I’ve read last rites to about four cuttings out of the fourteen, which is better than my luck with making chicken with dumplings or growing basil outside the greenhouse.
Like Forrest Gump that is all I have to say about THAT –until the inevitable part three of this epic thriller.
This is something I just had to photograph for you today. I can’t find proper notes (as you know I usually keep impeccable plant records) but I recall this is termed a Japanese Thalictrum.
I love so many things about it. It’s very tall, around six feet or so, it comes back every summer but stays in its space, it has layers of horizontal leaves that are architectural looking, and then the perfectly round buds like tiny balloons or, if you want more class, lavender colored pearls.
(That’s a Quaking Aspen tree with white bark at the side of the image, living up to its name today in the wind.)
This plant produces a lot of great seeds in late summer and they germinate easily in the greenhouse, which is why I have it growing in three places now.
In other news, I had to go into town yesterday (where I don’t live) and I took Max on his favorite walk there, on the paths in a rather wild city park.
There is this pretty walkway over water at the beginning of the trails. Sometimes people get married in this part of the park. (People may get divorced here too I don’t know.)
Last fall the city put up a sign at the entrance to the trails, warning that a mountain lion had been sighted in the park. Max and I had a little trouble enjoying the isolated paths during the weeks when that sign was posted.
The woodsy path comes out of the shade for a while and goes by a waterway. Lot’s of dogs come here to swim but not Max. (If it were a dirt pile he’d be in there digging in a flash). He wears his stylish harness for walks so he doesn’t get choked by his collar when he goes for a squirrel and also so other dogs will admire him.
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Grace made me look in the bag of wine that Tillie brought back from Italy. Unfortunately there was nothing inside but wine bottles and what appears to be a car key for a Lamborghini. (I hope you had an extra key Alberto.)
Since Tillie’s return, old pictures have been turning up in odd places. I found this one in the electric mixer bowl as I was about to make some bread…
There’s penciled script on the back:
“Rototillia. 8 months old. Just before that incident with the chickens.”