Dahlia tubers arrived

Received my spring order from Old House Gardens today, which included Dahlia atropurpurea (pictured at left, courtesy of OHG's online catalog). According to OHG, D. atropurpurea is a dark purple form of D. pinnata, one of the first three wild dahlias to be exported to Europe from Mexico.













On one of my regular visits to J.C. Raulston Arboretum back in October, I was intrigued by the D. coccinea blooming in the geophyte border of the rooftop garden and photographed them for my records (above). I had never seen a species dahlia, or even heard of them for that matter, but of course hybrids have to come from somewhere! So when I saw OHG's D. atropurpurea, I had to order it. I love the idea of growing dahlias as wildflowers, and I like the single form of the blossom. The species dahlias at the arboretum were going like gangbusters, in spite of extreme drought.

I also received in my order the dahlias Little Beeswings (ca. 1909), Madame Stappers (ca. 1947) and Andries' Orange (ca. 1936). Until today, the only named dahlia I had was Prince Noir (ca. 1954), which would be the dahlia I would grow if I could only choose one. Besides it, I have several heirloom passalongs from two sources: Mrs. Rosa Hicks of Banner Elk, N.C., and the late Mrs. Brownie Johnson of Harrells, N.C., whom I miss dearly.

I found a little more on species dahlias here.

The bat is back!

I shone the flashlight up into the bat house before dark, and it's occupied! A single bat. It is exactly 1 year to the day that we put the house up. We discovered the first (and only) occupant last year on June 15, and it remained only two days. So maybe it remembered and has come back to roost for the summer. I want a whole colony (it is a nursery-capacity house), but I'll settle for one. Tomorrow I'll lay out a white towel or sheet underneath the house so I can monitor occupancy by checking for guano. I don't want to disturb any occupant(s) too much with a flashlight. But it's soooooo tempting.

The pot garden

The pots have all been sown. This'll be the third year I've grown Purple Haze carrots, and I'd never be without them. Whether you slice, shred or julienne them or use young ones (tops and all) as edible garnishes, they are drop dead gorgeous. Have grown Easter Egg radishes too, and they're so cute. This is my first time growing French zucchini, watermelon radish and Early Wonder beets. Grow, grow, grow!

Pressed flowers, 21st-century style

I love using my scanner as a poor man's macro lens. Picked these little darlings in the yard today.

Rain falling on sedums

3 more inches of rain!

Compost bin

Cleaned out the fridge!

April showers!

A steady drizzle over the past few days has filled the rain gauge to the 1 1/2 inch mark! Here are some things blooming in the garden today.

Top: Amsonia
Bottom: African daisy

Pansies, piggy, alyssum

I Spy

• First tiger swallowtail of the season at corner of Glenwood and Peace.
• First tube top, same corner.

Furry Forensics

I took out a bag of trash this afternoon, and when I opened the garbage can lid there were little raccoon footprints on the interior walls! The single bag of garbage inside had a neat hole torn in it. Though I know raccoons are crafty, this is the first time anything has ever breached the fairly heavy-duty hinged lid of our new fancy-schmancy city garbage cans. These will keep out rats and possums but apparently won't foil the dexterous fingers of raccoons. So I secured the lid with bungy cables and put up a no trespassing sign. I also went in the back yard to make sure the lid to the compost bin was screwed down tight.

I love to watch raccoons beside a stream nibbling on mussels and fastidiously washing their little paws. But I don't particularly want them setting up housekeeping inside the garbage can. I'm just glad the critter wasn't in there when I opened the lid. Talk about your shock and awe.

Rx for Seasonal Affective Disorder:

Rain, redbuds and Daylight Savings Time. Take as needed (which is often).

Favorite shoes

Hope

I heard on the radio yesterday that Daylight Savings Time starts this Sunday, March 9th. The "saving" part is dead right, as the news has rescued my mood from the shadows. There's a storm on the way, so I took this photograph of hellebores against the cloudy sky earlier. Had to lie on my back to capture it, and it felt good to be one with the ground even though my butt got wet. So the good news is that rain and extra daylight are on the way. The bad news is that Brett Favre announced his retirement from the NFL today. You can't have everything.

Water, R.I.P.

Tomorrow, the City of Raleigh will implement its most severe level of water restrictions, Stage 2. As far as I know, these harsh restrictions are unprecedented. Since the end of last summer, we've been at "Stage 1 and a half," which allowed irrigation and hand-watering one day a week. The new restrictions ban all outdoor watering, including watering potted plants or vegetables with a hose. These restrictions also apply to landscaping businesses and nurseries, so there will be a lot of plant funerals and pink slips in the coming weeks and months.

My feeling is that we'll be on this schedule for quite a while unless something changes markedly. That means no new perennials in the ground. And it means I won't be starting any seeds this month. Fortunately, most of the perennials and shrubs in my garden are pretty drought-tolerant.

Sixty-seven of North Carolina's 100 counties are currently in the most severe stage of drought, D-4 or "exceptional drought," according to the federal drought map.

We received about an inch of rain yesterday morning. Week before last we got 7/8-inch. Before that, the last rainfall we got was 2 inches on Jan. 1, according to my records. So if I didn't forget to record any, and if my math doesn't fail me, that's only about 4 inches this year.

Last summer, I attended a talk at our local library by one of the city's water department reps. Just a handful of people showed up to ask questions, all of us flower-and-vegetable gardeners. When someone asked how many of us had watered plants with bathwater and other gray water, every hand shot up. The rep said that we "were not the problem," that lawn sprinklers were. I say it's long overdue for many Americans to cure their addiction to turf grass. I would like to have just a little of that water to grow Granny Cantrell's German Red tomatoes, Purple Haze carrots and Easter Egg radishes.

"The cruellest month"

What T.S. Eliot said of April I believe is more true of February. In this part of the world anyway. It's my least favorite month. The light's all wrong, and it's just too cold and blah-y. Though Mother Nature sometimes produces a few nice, unseasonably warm days for us here in central N.C., she's a ruthless tease. It'll be 70F three days in a row, I let down my guard, and the cats claim my winter coat for a bed. Then the Old North Wind springs out from behind her and exhales. Pee-eeeeewwww.

I've always found it ironic that Hallmark chose this month for a romantic holiday—the month of chapped lips, dry skin and a coif besieged by static electricity.

One gift today, however, was the fully open flower of an Amaryllis my mom gave me for Christmas. At once, both a reminder and a promise.