Patience

Gardening is one endeavor in which patience really, really pays off. A couple of cases in point:

* In 2006 we planted a $5 rose of Sharon against a sunny (half-day) wall. In 2007 I said to Roze at least 3 million times "This thing is dead," and stopped just short of yanking it. By June 2007 there were no signs of life. By mid-July we finally saw a leaf bud. By the end of August there were leaves and eventually a single pink flower. This year, the thing is robust, covered in new growth, and just now, mid-June, starting to produce what will eventually become flower buds.

* In March we shelled out $7 at The Great Orange Satan (No, not my friends at Daily Kos, but a well-known retailer) for a Trumpet vine (Campsis). We got a plastic box with a twig set in sawdust. Which was expected. We soaked it as directed and planted it next to a fencepost, all part of the plan for a stunning summer show of orange flowers set off against foliage to cover a fence. Based on what we read, I expected Jack-in-the-beanstalk growth. One commenter at Dave's Garden cautioned not to plant it close to a structure, because in the contest Trumpet vine vs house, the Trumpet vine will win. So I expected this thing to spread like kudzu, breathe fire, trap birds in its tendrils and generally undermine democracy and our American way of life. By Tax Day, we had a twig in the ground. During birthday week, we saw sunflowers, bee balm, clematis, nasturtium strawberries and all the other good garden citizens well on their way. And a twig in the ground. For Memorial Day, things were really in full swing all around the twig in the ground. We shrugged and said "Let's see what happens." Finally, about a week ago, Roze noticed a slight budding at ground level. Now, we have the beginning of leaves. So looks like we'll have a trumpet vine after all. Which is great, except that in its dormancy, we planted cukes and sweet potatoes (!) to grow up on the same section of fence. Again, our official position is "Let's see what happens."

New plants: We picked up a couple of Geums, which are new to us. A Lady Stratheden and Mrs. Bradshaw. The names alone evoke Victorian propriety. One can imagine these ancient plants embodying a go-to-hell border choice for Mary Elizabeth Scarlett (1796-1860), the 1st Baroness Stratheden (Lady Strathedon & Campbell) in Scotland. (h/t to Paghat the Ratgirl)