Little Sweet Betsy

Trillium cuneatum - Little Sweet Betsy

Trillium cuneatum – Little Sweet Betsy

Spring begins….. at last. A few leaves of sweet Betsy trillium, Trillium cuneatum, emerged from the rich, black soil near the stone wall a few days ago. Seemingly overnight, those few leaves turned into a clump of several plants, one with a fat bud which will soon become blackish-purple bracts. These native trilliums are all over our three-fourths acre lot, but this particular location is a first for them.

There used to be a lot of mayapples nearby. They’re disappeared, except for a few spindly plants I hope re-appear in a few weeks. Supposedly the deer eat the fruit when it’s fully ripe, so maybe that’s why the mayapples have all but disappeared. Or maybe it’s because of the gardener, who has allowed Vinca minor to get too thick there. (Can’t blame everything on deer).

So much to see right now, but the first signs of life are always the sweetest. Welcome to you, little Betsy, with the splotchly green markings.

Most likely a cross of Trillium cuneatum and Trillium

This clump is likely a cross between Trillium cuneatum and Trillium luteum, a yellow species.


Walnut in Limbo

Walnut Cracker

Nature’s Nutcracker

Things are still pretty dormant here, garden-wise. I spend a lot of time looking up when I’m outside.

Odd sight near the creek this weekend: a walnut resting inside the sections of a fractured, bent-over tree. Wonder how long it’ll take the squirrels to figure this one out.

Trails, Trains, and Crawdads


After a mentally-draining session with blogs and websites, my son and I found reprieve in a late-winter walk along Third Creek greenway in Knoxville. We parked at the Sutherland Avenue entrance and walked down a straight stretch of paving with grass clearings on either side. Groups of fat robins converged at the edge of a thicket of trees and undergrowth. There is good habitat for birds here: cover, water, and (presumably) plenty of food.


More evidence of birds, in this case woodpeckers. This tree has been foraged repeatedly for grubs and insects.


We saw bird silhouettes in distant trees, and a grouping of what appeared to be young, native beech trees with their buttery-brown winter foliage.



The creek meanders alongside the path. The view was pretty from the first vantage point when the sun was out. Unfortunately, the creek had just flooded and there was a good bit of trash and debris on the banks in some areas. The grasses and other plants (too early in the season to know what they were) had been flattened by the rising water.


The course of the stream was changed to a curving one by a process called stream re-meandering. According to this sign, the stream was dredged and straightened several decades ago because of erosion, sediment, and other problems associated with nearby development.  Some people who grew up in this area say the stream was always straight. I don’t know. Unfortunately, there are still issues with the creek, as this sign will attest:



We saw a lot of bamboo, privet, and other invasive plants along this section of the greenway. It’s hard to keep invasives under control in areas such as utility right-of-ways, greenways, shoulders of highways, and other disturbed areas. At my own house, the creeks have eroded, and privet has seeded itself — with the help of birds — along the steep banks.



A happy surprise — which brought back many childhood memories – was the discovery of crawfish holes in the moist areas near the beginning of the trail. According to the sign we saw later, the holes were made by Appalachian brook crayfish (also called crawfish and crawdads). I think these were the very ones that kept making tunnels in the dam of my dad’s pond in North Carolina. He spent many an hour plugging up crawfish holes.


The trail leads to an area of thick vegetation near a railroad viaduct. The trestle is supported by thick columns, and the creek flows under some of them near the point where the greenway trail splits.


On the tracks above the greenway, a train was carrying a load of fresh lumber. The late afternoon light was reflected on the concrete below the tracks. I was so absorbed in the sound of the sparkling creek, cascading over the rocks near the viaduct, that I forgot to get pictures of people running, riding bikes, and walking.

This might have been my favorite part of the trail. I love trains — the mystery and romance of them and the evocative sound of their horns from a distance. With the train, added to the winter sunshine and rushing creek, it was one of the best-ever escapes from a computer.

Cooper’s Hawk

Late-winter Visitor

Late-winter Visitor

There was a persistent kik-kik-kik sound in the backyard Sunday. I ignored it for a while, but it got increasingly loud. Turns out, it was a cooper’s hawk (Accipiter cooperii), sitting within the bare, criss-crossed branches of a large Japanese maple.

Cooper hawks have a fierce, intent look in their eyes — all the better to watch the small birds and mammals they prey on. This young hawk was probably eyeing chipmunks: they’re always scurrying around, looking out for seeds that fall from the feeder attached to the eaves of the house. Since I had just tossed out several cupfuls of safflower seeds, they were probably intercepting those too.  Squirrels don’t usually like safflower; chipmunks don’t care if it’s that or the most prime selection of black oil sunflower. If it’s edible, they go for it.

This is the first cooper’s hawk I’ve seen on our property — at least upclose. They’re  probably regular visitors, but either blend into the background or stay too high in the treetops for us to see or identify.

Immature cooper hawks (like this one) have yellow eyes and white chests with thin, brown streaks. Their backs are usually dark with white markings. They nest near the edge of deciduous or mixed woods like ours. Coopers are fairly common in Tennessee, more so during the months of September and October.

I hope this hawk comes back. I want to learn its call so, next time,  I’ll recognize it right away.

Note: Wish I could have gotten a better shot of the Cooper’s Hawk, but it was taken from a window and without appropriate camera lens.

Tree Planting 101: The Reckless Approach

Nurtured Trees

Nurtured For a Long Time

Many professions have licensing requirements and uniform standards for quality and compliance. In Tennessee, there is no state certification or licensing process for someone in the landscape profession, as there is for a builder, electrician, auctioneer, or cosmetologist. A landscape company can submit a low bid, get a contract for a project, then execute it with the poorest of professional and ethical standards — all without penalty, it seems.

Everything from planting to pruning to pest control requires knowledge and judgement, yet both are often sacrificed for the quick-fix and a signature on a contract. This sub-quality work comes at a price — to consumers, the environment, and the quality of neighborhoods. I just shake my head when I see large, beautiful trees dying, simply because someone didn’t know (or care) if the most basic planting standards were met.

A few weeks ago, I was driving down a side street and saw these glaring (and jarring) examples of how NOT to plant a tree:

Plant 'Em High

Plant ‘Em High

Plant 'Em Low

Plant ‘Em Low


Plant ‘Em Crooked

And finally, we have the ultimate example of Oh. My. Goodness. How could you possibly do that many things to one tree?

A Good Tree Sacrificed

A Good Tree, Sacrificed

A lot of resources go into growing a tree from seed or a cutting: water, labor, fertilizer, and plain old worry, especially if you’re a nursery owner in charge of seeing your plants through the challenges of drought, freezing temperatures, wind, and insects. For a young, thriving tree to meet its demise through human carelessness is just plain wrong.

Glory Bower Vine. My Springtime Valentine.


Clerodendron thomsoniae – Glorybower or Bleeding Heart Vine

Right now, most of my house plants are lush and green — a welcome compensation for the starkness of the outdoor landscape.  One indoor plant, Clerodendrum thomsoniae,  is bare and brown — a woody vine without leaves or flowers. I wonder why I’ve allowed it space in the limited sunny space in the house.

Then I remember the transformation that clerodendrum, also know as glory bower vine and bleeding heart, undergoes in spring. A few months after the vine leafs out, red and white heart-shaped blooms burst forth, reminding me of Valentine’s Day and little paper lanterns at the same time. The red part of the flower is the corolla and the white the calyx. After blooming is complete, each calyx turns pink and remains for several more weeks until falling. (What’s the plural of calyx? Calyxes? Calyces? I think it’s the latter).


Latter stage of bloom

Glory bower vine is native to Africa; its hardiness zone is 10-12. In warm states like Florida, it thrives outside. From what I’ve read, the vine can be highly invasive there; a good alternative is planting it in pots on a patio or deck. In my neck of the woods, glory bower should be cultivated as an indoor plant. It goes into a dormant stage in winter and it’s best to cut it back then. Since it blooms on the current season’s growth, this won’t affect flowering. I’m getting ready to do some heavy pruning today, so we’ll see.

Glory bower is supposed to be a heavy feeder when blooming (I never have fed mine) and needs lots of water during that period (that’s for sure). There are many species in the clerodendrum genus – most of them large shrubs. The ones I’ve seen have showy flowers; both leaves and form can look ragged in the landscape.

There is a variegated form of glory bower vine. To me, that would conflict with the showy, bountiful flowers, but some people go for anything variegated, I think.

The Blue Planter and Fresh Produce (Supposedly)


Late last summer I was walking down a sidewalk in Asheville and noticed a vibrant blurb of periwinkle blue in the distance. As I got closer, the blurb evolved  into a beautiful planter, chock full of leafy, multi-textured herbs and annuals. The planter sat in front of a large window painted with the words Fresh Produce. I walked faster — with anticipation — figuring the store sold plants, or seeds, or something garden-related. Maybe even produce.

I didn’t notice the words behind the ornamental grass in the planter. I stepped inside and saw that the shop sold …. clothes and accessories. Nice clothes and nice people, but no food, plants, or garden-y things. A bit of a disappointment, I must admit.

I figure it’s best to accept most things as they are, but why do people name their business something that has nothing to do with what they actually sell? The name Meander is pretty vague, but the blog isn’t called Meander Machinery or something that might lead to different expectations if you landed there by mistake. Oh well … there’ll be plenty of garden and produce places later on. And I wish the clothing shop nothing but success.

No matter what, that blue planter was awfully nice. I’m buying some paint — that same color, I guarantee.

Coral Bark Maple On a Wintery Day


Whenever you read a description of coral bark Japanese maple (Acer palmatum ‘Sango kaku’), you’ll probably see the word glowing used early on. While there are many maples I find more appealing year-round than coral bark, I was struck by the fact that it really did seem to be glowing as I rounded the bend of the road one recent overcast day. There it was, all lit up against a backdrop of magnolias and other evergreens — probably the most effective use of the tree I’d seen.


This maple has suckered and spread to a width of 8-10′. Nestled in a variety of plants between the road and the lakeshore, it’s an unexpected treat for eyes that have grown accustomed to winter’s more muted colors. Hmm…. maybe I need to reconsider the virtues of Sango kaku.

The Lovely, Welcome Snow


It snowed this week — one of those soft, all-encompassing, old-fashioned snows that says, There’s no need to worry. Everything is working according to nature’s plan. Come outside. Feel the joy.

The earth and trees seemed to revel in the calm and purity of form that enveloped the landscape. Every turn of the camera revealed a different hue of white.


A cluster of Canadian or eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) formed a backdrop for bottlebrush buckeye (Aesculus parviflora) and other deciduous shrubs. Was there ever a more beautiful evergreen tree?


The umbrella pine (Sciadopitys verticillata) became laden with snow very quickly. I knocked most of it off, for fear that the branches would break overnight.


There are five or six mature, very lush specimens of boxwoods in the garden, most of them Buxus sempervirens ‘ Suffruticosa’. Since boxwoods are very susceptible to snow and storm damage, I gave them a good shake too.


These are squirrel tracks, I’m pretty certain.


These are tracks of the very rare and reclusive  ….. ??  Actually, a pattern in the rubber mat outside the door :>)


This copper water sprinkler came home with me from a yard sale last year. I had sworn off yard sales, but this one had a definite “garden” theme. The hummingbird reminds me that spring is not far away!

Wordless Wednesday: Brush Pile Art

Garden Clean-up. The Rabbits Approve.