At least I won't have to water

We had a massive thunderstorm yesterday -- according to the Weather Network, Scarborough received 90 mm of rain! Since only 3-5 mm had been predicted, this was a substantial upgrade. We badly needed it, but parts of the garden are looking a little beat up. This sweet potato vine for instance:

Poor thing! And it was doing so well.

I think it got ripped up by water pouring off a neighbour's eavestrough. It wasn't necessarily clogged -- there was just so much water that it had nowhere to go.

The last shall be first

The container gardening course is over and the heat is on, literally. We have a projected high of 36 C today. The downside to container gardening - the only one, as far as I can tell - is the need for constant watering. The fact that my containers are in part-shade helps a bit. Most of my plants seem quite happy in our current blistering, drought-like conditions. Some of them droop mid-day but perk up again later.

My least favourite container has become my most. The half-barrel I planted somewhat dutifully, because it was there, has turned out to be the container I am happiest with. I love to look at it.

When I first planted it, it looked like this:

(And before that, like this:)

So you can see it's filled in quite a bit. I switched out the towering Miscanthus giganteus for purpurescens. It won't grow as tall but promises a beautiful purple colour come fall.

I've come to see why people love tuberous begonia -- it continues to pump out the most spectacular flashy red flowers. I don't pick off the male flowers like some people do -- if it's in bloom, it's all good to me. I'm not sure it shows in the pictures, but the plants seem to spiral downwards in a clockwise direction, from the tallest (the grasses) to the shortest (the potato vine).

Also, the colours complement the container I planted when our class went on a field trip to Bill's Garden Centre. I can assure you this happened entirely by accident.

I love the orange-pink undersides of the coleus leaves.

In the beginning

Here's the location for my container garden: a passageway between houses that’s separated from the back yard by a gate. There’s often a breeze here, but the side porch shelters part of the area from the wind. It also creates a small private area behind it.

Behind the porch are a small metal table and two chairs. In the heat of summer, it's the coolest spot. Because we don’t have air conditioning, it’s a necessary refuge when everywhere else becomes unbearably hot.

To make it feel even cooler, I want to install a small container water garden.

 

The water feature will have to go in this corner if I want to use a pump so the cord can run under the porch to the electrical outlet.

In spite of its considerable charm -- the yard waste bag is a nice touch I think! -- the space could maybe use a little upgrade.

I always like to keep something dead in the garden, don't you? For visual interest.

This is how I want my container garden to feel:

• cool
• private
• lush
• exotic
• relaxing

Love the one you're with

I will need to buy plants for my container garden, but I've decided that wherever possible I'll use plants I already own.

These include:

The killer phlox that can withstand everything but kindness (if you are nice to it, it collapses in a sobbing heap). It is so hardy that it was accidentally overwintered in an 8" plastic pot.

Bergenia. It has nice tropical-looking leaves. You can basically cut off a piece and just stick it in the ground. That's what I did.

Heuchera. There are two -- a reddish-brown and a lime green. Neither of them are happy in the garden, so I've decided to give them some R&R in containers. Call it a plant convalescent hospital.

Creeping Jenny. I liked the way it looks hanging over the edge of containers. It also is extremely hardy and regularly overwinters in a flowerbox.

Hosta. I had ordered a whole bunch of hostas and though most were thriving, some were not as thrilled to be living at my house as you might think. Into containers they go!

A strict budget for containers ... oops.

Just as I planned to economize by using plants I already owned, I established a low budget ceiling for containers, hoping to reuse ones I already had.

The half-barrel was non-negotiable -- I couldn't move it if I wanted to. If you don't fancy the super-rustic look, the rusted metal can be cleaned up with a barbecue brush and some mineral oil.

I already had a ceramic container I wanted to use for a water feature. In the winter it holds an over-sized croton, but in summer the croton is released into the wild and the glazed dragon container is available for whatever. A water garden, in this case. (A match made in heaven, since you can't put holes in the bottom of it anyway.)

I let myself buy one large-ish plastic pot in a pretty light green colour but told myself that, for the rest, I would have to make do with existing containers.

It was starting to sound dangerously like a hodgepodge even to me, so I tried to introduce some uniformity by using only black containers for the rest. Maybe that would make my choices seem more intentional -- less "whoops" and more "there!"

I had a lot of black plastic pots left over from other years. I made one of these into a hanging planter:

Creeping jenny, Japanese forest grass and lobelia

And then in an unguarded moment I found myself at Ikea, and what do you know --

The HÖSTÖ hanging planter, only $6.99. I got the black one, obviously.

And this window box:

A HÖSTÖ flower box, $12.99.

Now I find myself in the embarrassing position of having too many pots and not enough plants.

Attention to detail

Or is it OCD?

There's an ugly bare patch in the pavers behind the porch. I don't know if it's intentional, or if somebody didn't measure properly.

It's a magnet for maple keys and all kinds of detritus.

Nothing that couldn't be solved with a bit of micro-management and some pebbles from the dollar store.

Half barrel

 Remember this charmer?

 

In the winter it gets stuffed with pine boughs and other evergreens. I decided to plant it with lime green and deep purple sweet potato vine ...

...  some really pretty coleus ...

... and a red tuberous begonia, for impact.

The bergenia was cut from an existing plant in the garden.

 

And the phlox had somehow survived the winter in a small plastic pot.

More on this later.

It's helpful to plant something in front of the tall grasses that will cover the bottom of them since they can look a little manky and dried out. The phlox should do the trick.

Drainage holes

Not as easy as you might think. 

Whoever designed the light green plastic pot was thoughtful enough to show where the drainage holes ought to be --

 But drilling the metal Ikea window box was terrifying.

Phew, glad that's over.

Soil and elevation

The nitty gritty.

The green plastic pot was pretty tall, so I thought I'd fill the bottom with styrofoam packing peanuts. 

But it turns out someone has figured out how to make these biodegradable -- "Dissolves in water!" it says proudly on the package.

Admirable -- but not what I needed. So I used crushed cell packs instead.

 And then this stuff.

 And then landscape cloth.

 Ta-dah.

 

Desire trumps reality ... for now

-- or, how I am undone by an unhealthy passion for grasses --

I never used to like grasses. People would rave about them in magazines and I would think: yeah, whatever. I associated them with designers who wear funny glasses. The kind of people who cover the whole garden with paving stones, throw in a few architectural plants, and get out of Dodge.

Then I met Miscanthus 'Giganteus,' or Giant Silver Grass.

Miscanthus 'Giganteus' is a plant after my own heart, an extreme plant. This baby is tall, potentially a 12-foot fountain of silvery foliage.

According to the plant profile I consulted, it isn't fussy about soil type or moisture and will tolerate part shade. My shade is a little more than partial, but what can I say? I'm in love. Anyway, I've already bought it. It had me at hello.

Later I found various sources that claim Miscanthus is not nearly so unfussy, and some that insist it needs full sun. Val Bourne in The Telegraph says that "most miscanthus are too tall to grow in a pot and are best placed in a warm, open position to encourage flower and preserve leaf colour."

Oh, well.

So far Miscanthus 'Giganteus' doesn't seem thrilled to be in its half barrel, but it's not calling it a day either.

Meanwhile, I've lost my fickle heart to another:

It's Miscanthus purpurascens. Check out the gorgeous colour in the fall!

Good taste

“Nothing should be noticed.” 

- Bunny Mellon 

I.e., good taste means that nothing should stick out or call attention to itself.

I don't know -- I like a few attention hogs in the garden. The fushcias, for instance. They were on sale for almost nothing, poor things -- someone had to take them home.

I read that they like a shady, sheltered location. Shady, check -- sheltered, not so much. We'll see if they can tough it out in this breezy passageway.

Of course, they stopped blooming just in time for their photo op.

Taking the plunge

So finally, the water feature.

This is the container, minus its usual inhabitant.

I already have a little pump to circulate the water, prevent algae growth and discourage mosquitos from breeding in it.

My plan was to have some tall papyrus, or else big taro, or best of all a giant astilboides.

None of these were available at the pond shop and I ended up with this white rush.

Now that I look at it, I wish I had gone with the sweet flag ... or had driven the extra distance to Sheridan Nurseries. Coulda shoulda woulda.

This Cyperus papyrus 'Baby Tut' actually came from Loblaws.

I also bought a Canna 'Australis', which is supposed to reach 32-40". Maybe this will alleviate my disappointment with the rushes. However, a few days later I went to Costco where they were selling massive canna lilies for about half the price I paid for this pipsqueak.

I love the parrot's feather (Myriophyllum aquatica) -- it just hangs around oxygenating and is supposed to multiply like crazy.

There's also a tiny taro that overwintered as an unhappy house plant.

One piece of useful information I did acquire at the pond shop was not to use regular potting soil. Also, the plants shouldn't be submerged under more than 4 inches of water.

So I elevated the pots by placing other, inverted pots beneath them. I haven't figured out yet how I'm going to fit my little pump in there to circulate the water and make it less hospitable to mosquito larvae. The pond guy suggested not bothering with the pump and throwing in a couple of goldfish instead to keep things clean -- but it seems like a depressing life for them. Even if the racoons don't get them right away.

He also recommended that pond plant fertilizer tabs be pushed into the soil. PondTabbs, for example, are 10-14-8 and are supposed to be safe for fish while not releasing algae-promoting chemicals into the water.

I ended up not buying special pond soil because it only came in huge bags and was expensive. I gather it is made of diatomaceous earth. Some people like to use kitty litter; still others prefer a product called Oil Dri that is used to clean up oil spills. 

I went with the kitty litter.

 Aquatic plants like a clay soil, and that's what (old-fashioned) cat litter is made of. Don't try any other kind -- especially not the clumping variety!

 Pebbles on top help keep the soil/litter in the containers.

It would be better to use special plant baskets --

 -- but these were pretty expensive. I think I'll see if I can use plastic collanders from the Dollar Store.

Most water plants are supposed to want more light than I have in this location, but so far nobody seems to be complaining. The Baby Tut papyrus in particular is happy as a clam, and is taking over the joint.

Since the white rush wasn't doing it for me, I added some "borrowed scenery" by positioning a potted Dracena marginata behind my container.