If It Was Easy…

I’m reminded of a story.  Back in the day my business partner, John Hill, and I, co-owned a 48-foot boat that we routinely used to take clients on evening cruises out to the Chesapeake Bay.  We kept the boat at a marina on the Severn River, which is beautiful in its own right.  A typical evening involved cruising out to Annapolis Harbor, then further out in the bay for a good view of the Bay Bridge, and then cruising back to port under the stars.  (There may have been some good food and tasty beverages along the way.) The highlight of the trip, for many, was if the weather cooperated, we would slowly take the boat into Annapolis City Harbor, one of the most beautiful harbors on the bay, if not the world, and then continue in to the Annapolis City Dock, which is situated on a narrow little creek that is well known as “Ego Alley,” to the locals.  We would navigate the tight space between boats tied up on both sides  of the creek  and go to the very end of the creek, right in the heart of Annapolis City.  We would then proceed to spin the boat around in this tight space, often bringing the bow of the boat within inches of the dock and other boats, many times to the applause of our guests, and then cruise back out of the creek and continue our trip.   

I share this story because as boat captain, I knew a secret.  If the weather was calm it was pretty easy to work the throttles in such a way that you had total control of the boat,  so spinning around at the end of Ego Alley was actually an easy bit of seamanship.  But, if you added just a little bit of wind to the equation, this part of the cruise became more fraught.  A 10-knot wind would cause the boat to act as a sail, pushing you into other boats and the dock, and at slow speeds you had much less control of the boat.  There were several trips when I apologetically announced to our passengers that we weren’t going into Ego Alley that evening because of the wind.  I showed good common sense not to attempt it, but it was partly because of the lack of skill (and courage) of the captain who was terrified to bring the boat into tight quarters while the wind was blowing. 

I used to say that being a boat captain was easy, anyone could do it, if the wind wasn’t blowing.  Add a 10-plus mile an hour wind to the equation, and suddenly it was easy to tell the rookies from the experts.  Gardening is a lot like spinning the boat in Ego Alley.  During the spring growing season you think you are a horticultural genius as plants are bursting out of the ground fueled by spring growth.  Every decision you made last fall turned out to be brilliant.  But add a little summertime heat, drought, deer, pests, etc., and all the sudden you are reminded that being a successful gardener requires a lot of knowledge, skill, experience, and perseverance. 

I tell this story to introduce the pictures in today’s post, which are full of heartbreak and sorry.  Here we are in the first few weeks of July and the plant casualties are beginning to mount.  It doesn’t help that I invest way too much of myself in the success of these plants.  Just when I think I’ve matured enough to be able to reasonably handle the death of a plant or two, or the loss of flower buds I’ve been waiting for all season, I’m reminded that I still have too much Type A in me to calmly assess the damage (sigh).  I guess if this was easy, anyone could do it. Now that I think of it, someone should write a country song about this.   

Here are some photos of the latest setbacks.  Of course, as I’ve written here many times, they will come back. 

Let’s start off with my prized turtlehead plants: yes, the ones that won last year’s Ken Solow Plant of the Year award. I’ve never had a problem with deer eating my Hot Lips Turtlehead, and the experts all still agree that the bitter taste of the leaves makes the plant deer resistant.  Because of this, I was lax about spraying the plants with my favorite deer and rabbit repellant, Liquid Fence, the last time I applied it to the garden.  Apparently last week, while I was on vacation, some deer took advantage of my negligence. 

You can see where the deer expertly ate the ends of the stalks where flower buds would have appeared by early August.  The good news is there are three Hot Lips Turtlehead plants, and the deer only got two of them.  The plant nearest the pavers, which is usually the most spectacular bloomer, is still untouched.  As far as winning the Plant of the Year award this year, all I can hear is Howard Cosell screaming, “Down goes Frazier!  Down Goes Frazier!” Photo by Me. July 8, 2024 

Then there’s the case of my Autumn Joy Sedum, transplanted to my firepit bed after birds ate them last year.  I don’t know if this is deer or rabbits, but you can see the damage to the plant.  There is some good news.  These plants bloom in September so there is plenty of time for the buds to come back.  Photo by Me.  July 8, 2024 

My Rozanne geraniums were decimated in the last few weeks.  Again, I don’t know if it is deer or rabbits, but I was hoping this was the year that the geraniums would fill in on the sun side of the waterfall bed, and I can see it isn’t going to happen this season.  #@!@#!*^#!  Again, there is plenty of time left this summer for the geraniums to come back, but come on.  Give me a break!  Photo be Me.  July 8, 2024. 

I don’t know what it is with me and shasta daisies.  I love these tall flowers with a yellow center and white petals.  Everything I read says they are nearly indestructible, but apparently not when I plant them.  This plant was robust and healthy just a few weeks ago.  I’m not sure, but it looks dead to me.  This is my third time around with shasta daisies and I think I’m going to call it quits.  It goes on the same list as Lady’s Mantle…never again.  Photo by Me.  July 8, 2024. 

I feel compelled to leave you with a feel-good photo.  Here is my millennium allium opening right on schedule.  These plants are in the onion family and deer hate the smell.  I think allium is one of the most beautiful plants in my garden, and it makes me happy to welcome them back this year.  Photo by Me.  July 8, 2024. 

Sorry to share my gardening sorrows with you this week, but I know from corresponding with many of you that we are all in the same boat.  Sometimes the losses can be so depressing that it’s difficult to keep going.  But luckily (maybe unluckily) for you, this is actually a great year for me in terms of the health of the garden, and I don’t see myself giving up in the immediate future.  Of course, I’m a Type A, and defeat isn’t in my vocabulary. 

Next week I’ll find some fun, interesting, curious, and downright beautiful things to write about.  Feel free to share this post with friends and family and check out the archives for all of the past posts.  Stay cool and safe this week.