Plants From the Past, Heirloom Gardening
by Carla Burgess, copyright 2005

The terms "heirloom," “antique" and "old-timey" describe plants that have been passed down from generation to generation. Many people love and cherish these varieties because they preserve a piece of their family history. A favorite grandparent can live on forever in the gardens of grandchildren and their friends and neighbors. Garden author Jim Wilson eloquently captured the appeal of old-fashioned plants when he wrote, “The heart of Southern gardening is not in its great plantations, but in the small-to-middle-sized yards of working people. And its soul is not in the fancy plants sold by mass marketers, but in traditional plants, passed along from mothers to daughters and friends to friends."

Every year, I include more old-fashioned annuals and perennials in my plantings. Scarlet runner beans—a plant that dates to the mid-1700s—produced some of the most stunning blossoms in my garden last summer. As an added benefit, heirlooms are often among the most carefree and hardy plants. Unlike newer varieties, these time-tested favorites have had decades or even hundreds of years to adapt to local growing conditions. Because many heirlooms are resistant to pests and disease, plant breeders frequently incorporate genetic material from these proven performers into new hybrids.

People not lucky enough to have inherited antique seeds or divisions of perennials can choose from a growing inventory of these varieties at garden centers. Mail-order nurseries offer an even bigger selection. These suppliers are too numerous to mention here, but if you have a particular plant that you are unable to find I will try to help you learn where to acquire it.

This year I’m going to try a tomato called Radiator Charlie’s Mortgage Lifter, a 1930s heirloom with a colorful history. M.C. Byles, who ran a radiator repair shop in West Virginia, crossbred four large tomato varieties, including German Johnson and Beefsteak, to produce a flavorful, meaty tomato that contains few seeds. Byles sold plants for a dollar apiece and used the money to pay off his $6,000 mortgage. The variety is reportedly well adapted to our Southeastern climate.

A good resource for learning about heirloom plants is Seed Savers Exchange, a nonprofit organization devoted to preserving old-time varieties. Diane Wheely founded the organization after her terminally ill grandfather gave her the seeds of a morning glory with a royal-purple flower (marketed as Grandpa Ott’s morning glory) and a tomato called German Pink. His parents brought the seeds from Bavaria when they immigrated to Iowa in the 1870s. For $35, you can join the organization and help support the preservation of heirloom plants. Members have exclusive access to the seeds of more than 11,000 rare varieties of vegetables, fruits and grains. You can write to SSE at 3094 North Winn Road, Decorah, IA 52101 or visit their Web site: http://www.seedsavers.org.

This article was first published April 2005 in Carolina Country magazine.

Edible Landscaping: Berry Good!
by Carla Burgess, copyright 2005

As summer draws near, mouths begin to water for strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, figs and other sweet fruits of the season. It's becoming much more common for home gardeners to grow fruiting perennials. Edible landscaping is a fun, delicious addition to any home garden.

If you've not grown fruit before, strawberries and blueberries are good starter plants that require little or no chemicals. Besides their appetizing benefits, these plants are also lovely ornamentals that fit perfectly in an herb garden, flower bed or border. With their compact size and dainty white flowers, strawberries make good edging plants and ground covers. Blueberries work well as a hedge or as specimen plantings. Many have beautiful orange-to-red fall foliage and are often semi-evergreen. The tiny, clustered flowers, whitish to pink, resemble lily-of-the-valley.

Strawberries are arguably among the easiest of berries to grow and offer nearly instant gratification. They fall into two categories: Junebearers and everbearers. Junebearers produce a bountiful set in a short period of time; everbearers produce fruit throughout the summer, but a smaller amount at any given time. Everbearing varieties have not performed well in North Carolina, but you can choose from several Junebearing varieties to extend the fruiting season. You can purchase strawberries that are either bare-root or potted. They are best planted in early spring. Once established, they should last several years, although any flowering plants need to be covered during a frost to protect the fruit set.

Blueberries are another tasty offering, although they require a little more patience—two to three years for an appreciable crop. Though it may pain you to do so, experts recommend pinching flowers from young plants to divert energy toward root growth the first couple of years. In North Carolina, two types of blueberries are planted primarily: Southern highbush and rabbiteyes. Rabbiteyes and Southern highbush are both appropriate for the Piedmont or Coastal Plain region; Southern highbush is the only type proven to consistently survive the cold winters of the mountains, although some western gardeners report success growing rabbiteyes. Rabbiteyes are a good choice for home gardeners because they are less particular about pH and more drought-tolerant.

A soil rich in organic matter is a necessity for blueberries—add lots of compost. Like azaleas, blueberries prefer an acid soil. If you have a spot where azaleas grow well, chances are good that blueberries will thrive there too. Ideal pH for blueberries is about 4 to 5. Adding composted pine straw or oak leaves will help acidify soil. To more rapidly create an acid environment, you can mix in "flours of sulfur," a fine-grained sulfur available at hardware and garden centers (be sure not to overdo it). Fruit expert A.J. Bullard of Mount Olive recommends against using peat moss, a popular amendment, because commercial products may be impregnated with lime to neutralize the pH.

Blueberries need good drainage. In clay soil, Bullard suggests breaking up the plant's root ball well and placing it nearly on top of the soil, then banking it with fine pine-bark mulch. The roots will grow into that. Water plants well and often, as blueberries have fibrous roots that penetrate only 6 to 8 inches. Blueberries like sun but can take some shade. They may grow 6 to 15 feet, depending on the variety, but can be pruned to fit your landscape.

Bullard says some of the easiest rabbiteye varieties are 'Climax' and 'Premier" (early season); 'Powderblue' and 'Tifblue' (midseason); and 'Centurian' (late season). Popular Southern highbush choices include 'Sunrise,' 'Bluecrop' and 'Blue Ray.' Plant at least two different varieties (that flower at the same time) to ensure the cross-pollination necessary for the best yield. For continuous harvest, choose several different varieties that mature at different times. Depending on geographic location and varieties planted, the spectrum of fruit production runs mid-May through August. Your extension office or plant nursery should be able to help you choose varieties. Also, the N.C. Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services provides soil analysis free of charge for every North Carolina resident—kits are available at county extension offices and some agriculture supply outlets.

This article was first published April 2005 in Carolina Country magazine.

War of the Roses
My Struggles with Drought, Shade and Deer
by Rhea Worrell, copyright 2003
August 25, 2003

I hate to type the words war and roses on the same line. While war is the manifestation of everything brutal and tragic in life, roses represent everything sublime: love, refinement, spirituality, healing, beauty, renewal. Yet I have often felt buffeted and despairing while attempting to grow roses, as if I was battling against strong foes. My allies in the struggle were a long growing season, mild winters, and sheer perseverance. But my enemies were many ? and persistent: drought, shade, and deer (and the notorious red clay of the South). How demoralizing the fight became!

Maybe I had been too naïve. When I moved to North Carolina, I expected a gardening paradise. Coming from an area with long, cold, dark winters and chilly gray summers, I expected that this state’s mild temperatures, long season and brilliant sun would spell instant gardening success. What I didn’t know is that the area of North Carolina I was moving to was very heavily wooded with solid impenetrable clay. That it was subject to the whims of El Nino and La Nina, meaning alternate years of too much or not enough rain. That there was the ever present possibility of hurricanes, ice storms and tornadoes. And that for some plants it was actually too hot….

When I began landscaping at my new North Carolina home, I decided to plant about 40 or so roses. I was was blissfully ignorant of several things: One, that the soil surrounding the house was rock hard orange clay embedded with tree roots. Two, that none of the open areas around the house received more than six hours a day of sun. Three, that marauding deer were on their way over for supper…

Not many plants would be happy set in a thick terra cotta pot without a drainhole. But that describes the situation I faced. I saw three options:

• Create new beds by removing clay and replacing it with planting mix, preferably in raised beds.
• Use the existing beds, but only after digging up all the clay and combining it with various soil amendments before planting.
• Dig extra large holes in existing beds for planting each rose or shrub, add gypsum to the soil mix, and water like mad. (Gypsum dissolves the surrounding clay so that the plant’s fine roots can absorb nutrients). Then gradually replace the surrounding soil.

I chose the third option. It allowed me to plant immediately and to spread out the workload over several seasons.

I came up with a planting formula: For each rose we dug a hole two feet across and two feet deep. My husband and I worked on the project together; we snuggled each rose’s bare roots into a mixture of rich black soil (planting mix), aged chicken manure, peat moss, coarse sand, gypsum and rose food and watered for a long, long time. It gave the roses a good start, but then the "war of the roses" began…

Drought was a persistent enemy throughout their second and third year. My new garden survived ? but did not thrive. There is no remedy for drought. As all intrepid gardeners know, water from a hose in any quantity cannot match rain, but it is better than nothing. Watering the garden through months of drought became drudgery.

                                      Drought Rap
                                          So I spent a lot of time,
                                          time that I chose,
                                          holding a hose,
                                          in front of each rose,
                                          giving it a dose,
                                          of the H2Os.

We fought a concurrent battle against shade. When I complained to a friend, he commented: "Get used to it. You’re in the woods. You can’t win. You’ll have to continually cut down trees to stop them from taking away your sunshine."

I had to admit that there simply wasn’t enough sun for all of my roses so I gave away Rosa banksia, Russelliana, Seafoam, Mme. Bravy, Nastarana, Rosa moschata, and greenbriar rose. Paul’s Himalayan Musk and Catherine Mermet were early casualties.

Other roses simply needed repositioning. I moved Rosa laevigata from a shady spot under a tree to a high sunny wall where she is presently thriving. I moved Mme. Alfred Carriere from the shady position (where she was plagued with mildew) to an open arbor. Already, her leaves are a richer and deeper green and she has generously bloomed for us.

To reduce the shade in the yard, we decided to take down some tall trees surrounding our garden. That gave us an hour more sun every morning. Then, last December, a severe ice storm took out about 40 trees in the woods, including seven near the house. Result: a lot of chain saw rental fees (bad), and a much brighter garden (good).

As an organic gardener I put most of my efforts into creating great soil. I may water, weed, or prune, but that’s all that I will do for my plants. No sprays, no fuss. The wonderful part is that my strategy (or lack of one) really works. There aren’t many bug problems, because I have encouraged their predators to feel at home in the garden. Because there are no poisons in the garden, it’s a haven for birds, bats, toads, lizards, and frogs. Plus, of course, the beneficial insects that dine on their compatriots. They are all welcome here.
 

With the deer it’s a different story. They have no predators. The bear, panthers and wolves are long gone. Since they have no natural enemies, their populations have exploded. There are too many deer and not enough food to go around.

For two years, the deer chomped our cherished plants. They devoured roses, snacked on azaleas, munched hibiscus, scarfed down hostas, gobbled daylilies and gorged on  hydrangeas.

Desperate to stop the devastation, I found that there were many supposed remedies that broke down into six general categories…

• Avoiding deer incursions: Fence. Dogs.

• Frightening deer from the garden: Soap, urine, hair or sprays. Loud noises or bright lights. Sprays of water. Scarecrows.

• Depriving deer of nourishment: Deerproof plants.

• Diverting deer from the garden: Hay or salt licks.

• Shooting to kill

• Moving away

We initiatially rejected the deer fence idea due to logistics and cost. We couldn’t surround the entire house with fencing without restricting access. The cost would be astronomical. We didn’t want to see a black plastic fence every day and an electric fence might endanger smaller critters.

We liked the idea of getting a dog, but again logistical problems came up. The dog would need to be outside every night and might get lost or run away or worse. The dog might damage the gardens. And last of all, our cat told us "no way."

Applying bad-smelling stuff (hair, urine, soap, sprays) to our entire yard ? after every rain -- would be time-intensive, boring and gross. As we found out: this yucky stuff has to be carefully reapplied to every single plant every single time it rains. Forget once, and you could be in trouble. The deer are clever that way. Trampling through the garden all summer with jars full of urine or a handfuls of hair is not my idea of fun. And so we put this idea to rest.

There are gadgets with movement sensors that will pulse water at deer wheneve they show. Some gadgets have lights and/or sounds also. Great idea, but for someone else. Our landscaping was too spread out for this to work.

There are no deer-proof roses. They are such a comfort food for deer, even with the thorns. The roses would have to be protected. But I could use deerproof plants for other landscaping needs. So I put together a list and used it to create three deerproof mixed beds, using existing and new plants. A friend gave me this tip: "Any plant with silvery foliage is probably deerproof." Then she gave me a chunk of Artemisia "Silver King." The deerproof beds contain plants that the deer don’t like because they are aromatic (Santolina), fuzzy (Lamb’s Ears), toxic (Daphne) or simply bad-tasting (willow).

Diverting the deer was a whim we never tested. Shooting deer wasn’t a serious option either, in spite of my anger. I called them names, yelled at them, got depressed over them, even joked about running them down with our car. But I couldn’t kill one. The fact that there are too many of them isn’t their fault. Their need for food can’t be held against them. I’m not a deer aficionado and probably never will be after witnessing all the damage they can do, but I realize they are still living, breathing creatures that must eat to live. They’ve overgrazed the woods, so they are always looking for fresh young plants. If they must be killed, it should be by a natural predator. Bring back the Carolina panthers!

The solution to the deer problem turned out to be a compromise: part deer fence, part improvised fence and part deer-proof beds. (The deer fence is basically a 7-foot high black plastic mesh that’s clipped to a strong cable with metal rings. The cable is attached to trees and posts). We decided to surround the most vulnerable plants ? roses, perennials and fruit trees ? with a deer fence, leaving two sides of the house open. That cut down the cost of the deer fence and allowed access to the house. We found that the fence is almost invisible. (Of course we have to remember to keep the gates closed. Once a deer gets in, it has a tough time getting out!)

Our boggy native plant area we surrounded with disposable tomato fencing and tall stakes and embellished with multicolored glass bottles and discarded CDs (courtesy of AOL). We’ve left narrow gaps in the fence for access. Although it’s lower than the deer fence, it still works ? perhaps because it is so near the house.

The compromise solution has worked: this year the entire garden came to life. We’ve had months of rain, and no deer inside the fence (though we have seen them on the perimeter looking for the entrance). The roses were splendid in May and the native plants are soaring and stretching like never before. The sedum are spreading out in mats and the fruit trees are filling out.

When the sun is shining, and the breezes are breathing, and the hummingbirds are zooming, and the sweet elixirs are floating, and the pink and yellow flowers are peeking, and the lizards are scampering, and Smudge the cat is rolling on the path, I realize that I was right all along: I have found paradise. There is no more war.

DEER CANDY TOP TEN
Daylilies
Roses
Hydrangea
Tomatoes
Fruit trees
Columbine
Hibiscus
Azaleas
Camellias
Sedum

Heat-Tolerant Deerproof Mailbox Bed
Artemisia  Artemisia schmidtiana "Silver Mound"
Nepeta   Nepeta faaseniii "Six Hills Giant"
Rosemary Rosamarinus officinalis "Arp"
Santolina Santolina chamaecyparissus "Pretty Carol"
Silver-edged Thyme Thymus serpyllum "Argentus"
Yellow and orange marigolds

Pastel Deerproof  Bed
Iris virginica Lavender Iris
Baptisia pendula  White False Indigo
Dianthus 'Bath’s Pink'  Pinks, Dianthus
Stachys lanata "Big Ears" Lambs Ears
Callicarpa  Beauty Berry (purple)
Callicarpa japonica  White Beauty berry
Salix integra "Hakuro Nishiki"  Variegated White Willow
Allium "Globemaster"        Drumstick Allium
Amarcrinum (crinodonna)  Amarcrinum (crinodonna)
Spirea "Snowflake" White variegated spirea
Iris siberica Siberian Iris
Lychnis coronaria "Blush Pink" Rose Campion
Artemisia "Silver King" Artemisia

Deerproof Driveway Bed
Juniper sp. Creeping juniper
Eleagnus odorata   Eleagnus
Poncirus trifoliata Bitter or Hardy Orange
Poncirus trifoliata 'Flying Dragon' var. monstrosa  Flying Dragon
Arundo "Corn Grass"
Glecoma hederacaea variegata Ground ivy / Gill Over the Ground
Chrysanthemum sp. Chrysanthemum

Deerproof Gold Foliage Bed
Lysimachia nummularia   Moneywort / Creeping Jenny
Lysimachia nummularia aurea  Golden Moneywort / Creeping Jenny
Daphne odora aureomarginata  Gold-variegated Daphne
Hypericum hybrid Gold-variegated St. John's Wort
Hedera ‘Gold Heart’ Goldheart Ivy
Sedum sp. Lime green sedum groundcover
Acer palmatum 'Higasayama' Varieg. Japanese Maple

Current Roses
Rosa "Alister Stella Grey" Alister Stella Grey
Rosa "Buff Beauty"  Buff Beauty
Rosa "Celine Forestier"  Celine Forestier
Rosa "Cl. Lady Hillingdon" Cl. Lady Hillingdon
Rosa "Clotilde Soupert" (2) Clotilde Soupert
Rosa "Crepuscule"  Crepuscule
Rosa "Dr. Huey" Dr. Huey
Rosa "Francis DuBreuil"  Francis DuBreuil
Rosa "Irene Watts"  Irene Watts
Rosa "Ispahan"  Ispahan
Rosa "Jaune Desprez"  Jaune Desprez
Rosa "Louis Phillipe" Louis Phillipe
Rosa "Mme. Alfred Carriere"  Mme. Alfred Carriere
Rosa "Mme. Oakley Fisher" Mme. Oakley Fisher
Rosa "Mutabilis"  Mutabilis
Rosa "Paul's Lemon Pillar"  Paul's Lemon Pillar
Rosa "Ragged Robin"  Ragged Robin
Rosa "Reve D'Or" Reve D'Or
Rosa "Rouletti"  Rouletti
Rosa gallica officinalis Apothecary Rose
Rosa 'Gipsy Boy' Gipsy Boy
Rosa laevigata  Cherokee Rose
Rosa roxburghii Chestnut/Burr/Chinquapin rose
Rosa 'Sombreuil' Sombreuil
Rosa 'The Fairy' The Fairy
Rosa 'White Pet' Rosa 'White Pet'

R. Krake gardens in northern Chatham County ,and her home and 1-acre garden are for sale! You can e-mail her at krake@direcway.com.

Diary of a Failed Composter
by Carla Burgess
copyright June, 2003

Creating sweet, dark brown, crumbly compost has been something of a holy grail for me. Most gardeners recognize that this organic product is a garden’s salvation. But for me the quest has been painful. This week has been the most painful yet. Monday morning while chopping a rotting cucumber into small pieces for the compost bin, I nearly sliced off the tip of my middle finger. I was trying my newest strategy, microcomposting. The idea is I would layer material inside a Rubbermaid tote—grass clippings, finely chopped kitchen waste and used paper bedding from my small-animal cages. I’d drill holes in all sides of the container, water it well, and pop on a lid. Problem is the start-up cost of this operation was rather high, beginning with the $181 I paid the doctor to close my lacerated fingertip with four stitches. I am still typing rather gingerly. In spite of being limited to the use of one hand, I did get my microcomposter assembled and filled yesterday. Now I’m waiting for decomposition to work its wonders.

There’s nothing particularly magical or difficult about composting, if your definition is broad. No matter what you do with organic waste—layer it neatly into a pile or just spread it on the ground—the material will degrade and enhance the soil, eventually. But to get a discrete sample like you see cupped in the hands of happy gardeners in magazine photos requires a bit of planning. It is "hot" composting that I want to achieve. Through this method, materials are arranged so that the center of the mass reaches a high temperature as the organic material "works." Not only does this process speed decomposition but it also achieves other desirable results such as killing weed seeds.

Plenty of gardeners have mastered the art of composting. I am not one of them. But as bad as I am at it, I can’t stop trying. It costs too much to buy compost, and I have been sorely disappointed in my purchases so far. I don’t know how many bags of Black Cow I’ve eagerly opened to discover a sandy mix that resembles plain topsoil. As Organic Gardening magazine has reported, store-bought compost can be hit or miss.

Composting and I go way back. I grew up on a rural farm and we had no garbage trucks—just a stinky landfill that you really didn’t want to visit unless absolutely necessary. So paper trash got burned and kitchen scraps got pitched out the door. I can’t tell you how wrong it felt to throw peelings and egg shells into the trash once I moved to the city. I discontinued that practice as soon as government agencies and environmental groups began pushing urban dwellers to compost in their backyards. I started up a casual compost pile encircled in wire mesh where I piled leaves and kitchen scraps. No microbial activity ever appeared to get going. So when I read in Back Home magazine that human urine is a great source of nitrogen and a handy compost accelerator, I persuaded my reluctant husband to discreetly "take a whiz" on the compost pile from time to time. Still no results. That failure, combined with our landlord’s disapproval of the pile, put the brakes on my composting activity.

When we bought a home of our own, I tried again. I transported a bunch of cow manure from my brother’s farm. I dumped the fresh droppings directly into beds not yet planted. What developed was the worst infestation of nut grass you can imagine. Years later I still can’t get rid of this noxious weed.

Next, my neighbor Chris, a graduate student in sustainable agriculture, and I jointly created a compost pile by alternating layers of wood chips and cow manure we shoveled from a stable at NC State University. In spite of his faithful turning with a pitchfork, we got only a woody mulch, not that elusive black gold at the end of my gardening rainbow.

During this time, I was salivating over a rotating barrel composter I’d been seeing in countless magazine ads. I decided that I could create something similar using a 50-gallon drum. My brother secured one for me from a sweet-potato chip plant to ensure it had contained only peanut oil, not hazardous chemicals. My husband and I owned a welder but not a steel cutter necessary to carve out a hinged door, so the barrel sat unused.

Then there’s my sad experience with vermicomposting. This is a method in which you stock a plastic bin with worms, leaf litter and newspaper, then feed the hungry red wigglers your table scraps. Though it was said to be safe to leave the bin outside, I kept the little guys in the kitchen so they’d live more comfortably. Now one thing about vermicomposting—you want to make sure the contents don't get too wet. Mine apparently did, and one night when I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, I found the worms beating a mass retreat. It took hours to get them all out from underneath the refrigerator. I released them into the garden and retired from vermicomposting.

I finally decided that the only way I’d get finished compost was through the innovation, simplicity and convenience of that rotating barrel composter I’d seen advertised. It was expensive, but I convinced my husband to buy it for me as an anniversary present. It wasn’t the least romantic thing I’d asked for as a gift if you count a miter saw and a microscope. Upon its arrival I assembled the plastic barrel and began tossing in scraps and yard waste greedily. It was as easy to turn as a bingo cannister, and I did it twice a day for good measure. In three months all I got was a mess on the ground as the waste either sifted from the poorly fitted panels or spilled out en masse as the door popped open during rotation. I couldn’t believe this was the so-called miraculous contraption I’d craved for years. After six months, I mailed it back to the company for a refund. I kept the free compost thermometer, for which I still have no use. Try as I might, my compost simply is not feverish.

I’ve begrudgingly adopted a much more informal method of composting. I toss vegetable scraps and yard waste into idle beds and layer straw on top. I scatter coffee grounds randomly among the plants. And I return grass clippings to the yard with a mulching, electric lawnmower.

This brings me to the current small-scale experiment of microcomposting. It’s like the worm bin without the worms. I can fill it up quickly, then cap it and forget about it. I still plan to chop scraps into small pieces. Only I’ll work more carefully and use a cutting board instead of the freestyle manner in which I nearly severed a fingertip. We all know that meat isn’t acceptable in a compost pile. Besides, $181 is entirely too much to pay for compost that’s not even cooked.

— Carla Burgess, copyright 2003
 

Creative Composting

You’d think with my limited success at composting that I’d just seal organic waste into a trash bag and send it to the city dump. Or that I’d be hesitant to give advice on the issue. Neither is true. I remain a steadfast advocate of composting. Leaves, grass clippings and vegetable waste belong absolutely in the earth from which they came. More than its benefits as a fertilizer, compost enhances soil structure. Chemical fertilizers do nothing to improve the soil and in fact impair and discourage microbial activity that is crucial to a healthy garden. Even people who don’t garden should find a little corner of their property to dispose of their organic castoffs. There are inexhaustible sources of material on composting, so I won’t give any basics here. I’ll simply compile a list of innovative ideas you might not have considered.

City landfills often sell compost made from leaves and other yard waste they collect curbside. I got a truckload from the City of Raleigh’s facility back in 1996 for the ridiculously low price of $8. It wasn’t high-quality material and in fact contained lots of sticks and weed seed. But I used it as mulch and to create and improve beds at our new house, where the soil was exhausted from decades of chemical application. Check with your city waste management department for details about purchasing composted yard waste.

I read a garden tip in a magazine years ago from a reader who had a plumber rig her kitchen garbage disposal so that the refuse was piped outside instead of down the drain. She then added the well-chopped scraps to her compost pile. I would do it in a heartbeat if I wouldn’t have to cut through our brick exterior to make it happen.

Many coffee shops will gladly give you their spent coffee grounds, which are stimulating to a compost pile.

Garden Share Celebrates Earth Day, April 24, 2004

It was wonderful meeting so many of you at the Earth Day celebration April 24 at the N.C. Museum of Natural Sciences. Thanks again to Jay Yourch of Raleigh for donating the seedlings of cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis, photo at left from Connecticut Botanical Society.) They were snatched up quickly. I hope they will flourish in your garden and that you'll get lots of hummingbirds. The theme for the museum's event was the threat to ecosystems caused by non-native species that overrun and displace important native plants. Sometimes home gardeners can contribute to this problem when invasive plants escape their boundaries in the landscape. If you live on a small lot in an urban neighborhood, like I do, it can be easy to wonder how your plants could ever cause such problems. It's true that the species that reproduce primarily by runners and rhizomes can be more benign if you don't live next to a natural or wild area (although many, such as Japanese honeysuckle, will take over your own precious garden). But nonnative invasive plants such as Elaeagnus umbellata T. , also known as Autumn olive, can bear more than 30 pounds of berries each season. That translates to about 66,000 seeds that are eaten by birds and dispersed in a wide area through their droppings. By muscling out native species, such nonnative plants can seriously reduce biological diversity and disrupt natural habitats. Unfortunately Autumn olive is still a popular item at garden centers and plant nurseries. If you choose instead a native shrub like American holly or wax myrtle, you'll still offer plenty of food for the birds without harming our treasured wild places. Don't feel bad about planting a nonnative species in your garden: Plenty of them are beautiful and well-behaved. But if you're wowed by a plant you don't know much about, investigate a little further before you plop it into the ground. Your own garden—and the plants and animals beyond it—will thank you.