Today we welcome the new month - July - and we remember the first meeting of the Vale of York Field Naturalists Club. We'll also learn about the Illinois State Flower, which was adopted on this day. We'll usher in the new month with some July poetry. We Grow That Garden Library™ with a book about how gardens and growing food help people maintain their culture. It's a personal favorite of mine. And then we'll wrap things up with a newspaper story from 1932 called "Plant Explorer Finds Adventure." But first, let's catch up on some Greetings from Gardeners around the world and today's curated news. Subscribe Apple | Google | Spotify | Stitcher | iHeart Gardener Greetings To participate in the Gardener Greetings segment, send your garden pics, stories, birthday wishes and so forth to [email protected] And, to listen to the show while you're at home, just ask Alexa or Google to play The Daily Gardener Podcast. It's that easy. Curated News Before & After: An Urban Oasis - Flower Magazine Dwight Brown of Father Nature Landscapes wanted to honor his client's wishes for a garden that would remind him of his European travels. Brown aged the exterior with a creeping fig (Ficus pumila) for a climber on the side of the house. He also added an Oakland holly, a 'Shi-Shi Gashira' camellia, and a shaped boxwood hedge that edged a gorgeous group of 'Limelight' hydrangea. Brown says, "Much like English ivy, the creeping fig with boxwoods, mondo grass, and hydrangeas helped create the classic cottage look I wanted. We love working edibles into the ornamental landscape. Our goal was to bring back memories of the homeowner's travels to Europe, especially Italy..." Welcome July in the Garden Welcome July and all that you may bring us! For gardeners, July hosts a riot of color in our gardens. History tells us that many flowers have claimed to be the birth flower for the month of July - which, by the way, the Roman Senate named to honor Julius Caesar by. In China, July's birth flower is, fittingly, the water lily. In the rest of the world, other top July blooms for the month include the Larkspur, the Delphinium, the Sweet Pea, and the Rose. Thinking about all of these gorgeous summer blossoms that claim July's top spot reminded me of a sweet verse from the Maud poem by Tennyson. It goes like this: She is coming, my dove, my dear; She is coming, my life, my fate; The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;" And the white rose weeps, "She is late;" The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;" And the lily whispers, "I wait." — Alfred Lord Tennyson, English poet, Maud (Part I) The Rose, the Larkspur, and the Lily; many of July's favorite flowers are in that little verse. Truly, July is a month of abundance and extremes. On the one hand, there's the heat, and on the other, there are the storms. In 2001, the year my daughter was born, it was mighty hot in Minnesota - well over 100 degrees for weeks on end. As a result, she ended up wearing all of the ridiculous outfits people tend to give you when you have a little baby girl; things like little halter tops and itty bitty bikini tops, teeny tiny little skorts and sundresses. Now, I always preferred to have my babies properly covered - dressed in layers and bundled. But the summer Emma was born, I changed my tune. Suddenly those little outfits seemed mighty appropriate, and I have many pictures of her - san's blankets and sweaters - keeping cool in her summer barbie-inspired clothes. In reality, the average temperature in most places in America during the month of July is a very pleasant 70 degrees. That said, just don't ask about the range - which can vary wildly. And, July is traditionally known as the month to make hay. It's been called Haymonth or Maed month, referring to haymaking and the flowering of the meadows. By July, most gardens are set, and gardeners tend to get their work done in the mornings when it is cooler and less buggy. Still, experienced gardeners know that July's biggest challenge, outside of the heat, is thunderstorms. I remember the summer a dear friend of mine had a garden tour planned for the middle of July. Sadly, it was a tour that never happened. The night before her big day, a huge storm whipped through the area, taking down trees and pelting the garden with hail. There was nothing to do but clean up. And I remember sitting on her patio after we had righted her table and chairs eating one of the little radish and cucumber sandwiches that were supposed to be for the guests that day. That day was as sour as the lemonade we sipped in the chopped salad that was my friend's garden. It's no wonder that the folk sayings of July reflect her temperature extremes. For example: If the first of July be rainy weather, 'Twill rain more or less for four weeks together. Despite the storms, we seem to remember mainly the heat of July and the vibrant blooms in the garden. It's a glorious month for ornamentals and cut flowers. One of my personal favorites is Martagon Lilies. Martagon Lilies are in peak right now in most gardens. They bring the most beautiful architectural aspect and form to the garden; they are so exquisite. Offering a Turk's cap-style bloom, Like many plants, Martagon colonies get better and better with age. Martagons like rich soil and they will be grateful for a dusting of lime every year. And here's a gentle reminder to divide your Flag Iris after they finish blooming. Regular division can re-invigorate your iris and promote healthy new growth. The saddest thing in the garden is to lose your Iris because you failed to divide them. Experienced gardeners know that the best time to divide flag iris is immediately after flowering. Once again, as I like to say, "Prune-time follows bloom-time" - or in this case, division follows bloom-time. In any case, the end of any bloom-time is usually your cue to act - so get going! With the Iris, you'll want to lift out the whole clump with a pitchfork and use a sharp knife to separate any new rhizomes. Finally, don't forget that flag irises need full sun. So if you don't have them situated properly, stage a relocation immediately. Alright, that's it for today's gardening news. Now, if you'd like to check out my curated news articles and blog posts for yourself, you're in luck, because I share all of it with the Listener Community in the Free Facebook Group - The Daily Gardener Community. There's no need to take notes or search for links - the next time you're on Facebook, search for Daily Gardener Community and request to join. I'd love to meet you in the group. Today's Important Events 1871 The Yorkshire Herald reported the first meeting of the Vale of York Field Naturalists Club. On that day, the weather was very poor. Still, almost fifty ladies and gentlemen left the Society's Rooms in Micklegate to travel in three four-horsed carriages to go to Rivaulx ("ree-VOH") Abbey. Once they arrived at the Abbey, the group then broke into small parties made up of geologists, botanists, and entomologists, and then they went out and explored the valley by the Abbey. "The geologists were interested in the sections laid bare in the quarries, and many interesting and beautiful fossils were found. [Meanwhile], the botanists collected:
At six o'clock the party sat down to dinner at the Crown Hotel, Helmsley, which was served in Mr. and Mrs. Cowen's usual substantial style… the Rev. Vice-President Rowe addressed those assembled on the advantages of natural history and the beauties and history of the Abbey. (Rowe was also the hon. secretary of the Architectural Society). It was arranged that the next monthly field day should be held at Bolton Abbey and Woods. They then left for home, after a most agreeable day, which left everyone with the feeling that this the first excursion of the club was a great success." 1908 Illinois adopted the Violet as its State Flower. As with many State Flowers, Illinois decided to let the school children of the state vote to decide the state flower. The purple Violet received 15,591 votes, and the wild rose came in second with 11,903 votes. The children also decided on the state tree, and they selected the white oak. Meanwhile, newspapers were running a piece that blared the headline, "The Reign of the Violet is Over." It said this: "Strange and unbelievable, but a fact, nevertheless, violets are no longer fashionable. Gardenias, Orchids, and American Beauty Roses are as much in evidence as ever, but the reign of the Violet is temporarily over. It is true that a large bunch of deep purple violets relieved by a single mauve orchid, a deep pink rose, or a single wax-like gardenia is still an acceptable gift, but it is not the gift that is so frequently chosen this year, as a small cluster of gardenias or even of two or three exquisitely beautiful orchids… Roses are much in favor at the moment... A new flower hailing from Paris is the pink American Beauty, and well does it deserve the name... The color is an adorable shade of shell pink, and for all decorative purposes, this flower has already a firmly established place in fashion's regard.... One cannot but regret the sense of chivalry of a generation back when etiquette demanded that flowers always be sent to a hostess before even the least formal entertainment, and when a debutante [would rather] stay at home than go to a ball without ... [a] little bouquet of flowers." 1910 The Allentown (Pennsylvania) Democrat paper reported that Joseph Hooker was 93 years old. Here's what it said: "Sir Joseph Hooker, the world-famous botanist, received a personal note of congratulations from King George today on the occasion of his ninety-third birthday. Sir Joseph, who is still remarkably active for a man of his great age, has had a long and brilliant career in his chosen field of science. As early as 1839, he accompanied the expedition of Sir James Ross to the Antarctic region. Later he conducted scientific expeditions to many parts of the world… In the course of his active career, he rendered invaluable services to the British arts, manufacturers and commerce by promoting an accurate knowledge of the floras and economic vegetable products of the various colonies and dependencies of the empire." Unearthed Words As I mentioned earlier in the show, July is the month of heat and storms, and that is reflected in a number of poems. In scorched July The storm-clouds fly. — Christina Georgina Rossetti, English poet, The Months If the first of July be rainy weather, It will rain, more or less, for four weeks together. — John Ray, English naturalist and writer, English Proverbs When storms finally break through the July heat, there is also the immeasurable pleasure that accompanies the deluge: the smell of rain. A break in the heat away from the front no thunder, no lightning, just rain, warm rain falling near dusk falling on eager ground steaming blacktop hungry plants Thirsty turning toward the clouds cooling, soothing rain splashing in sudden puddles catching in open screens that certain smell of summer rain. — Raymond A. Foss, American poet, Summer Rain This poem perfectly captures the ferocity of summer storms in the garden: The rain to the wind said, 'You push, and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt. — Robert Frost, American poet, Lodged The July rains encourage special summer blooms. Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots, and gillyflowers. — Sara Coleridge, English author, The Garden Year If you are wondering what gillyflowers are, you are not alone. Gillyflowers was a term that often referred to plants from the mustard family like the wallflower, carnation, clove pink, or white stock. Gilly is derived from the Latin and Greek words for clove. Grow That Garden Library The Earth Knows My Name by Patricia Klindienst This book came out in April of 2007, and the subtitle is: Food, Culture, and Sustainability in the Gardens of Ethnic Americans Patricia Klindienst is a master gardener and an award-winning scholar and teacher. She lives in Guilford, Connecticut, and teaches creative writing each summer at Yale University. Patricia Klindienst went to many different gardens - urban, suburban, and rural - in order to write this book. She had seen an old family photo of her Italian immigrant family and was inspired not only to learn about her ancestor's struggle to adapt to America, but also eager to hear stories from other families. The jacket to Patricia's book reminds us that, "As we lose our connection to the soil, we no longer understand the relationship between food and a sense of belonging to a place and a people." How do gardens and growing food help people maintain their culture? This is the question Patricia explores in her book. Vegetables, fruits, and flowers provide so much more than sustenance, food, and beauty. They convey who and where we are and what we are about. In her review of this book, the author Deborah Madison said, "We who are far removed from our own immigrant roots will do well to study these eloquent stories and learn from them. Patricia Klindienst has given us nothing less than a great gift." The book is 208 pages of ways we can connect to the earth - all shared with today's gardener in mind. You can get a copy of The Earth Knows My Name by Patricia Klindienst and support the show, using the Amazon Link in today's Show Notes for around $3. Today's Botanic Spark 1932 Newspapers worldwide ran a fascinating article about the botanist Frank Kingdon-Ward titled "Plant Explorer Finds Adventure." "Captain Frank Kingdon-Ward, tall, well-built son of Britain, probably one of the world's most noted plant seekers... has journeyed all over the world in search of rare flowers, has led a life as exciting as any explorer and has given the world some of its most beautiful and rare blooms. Now In his late 40's, he is tanned from the winds and suns of tropical India, Asia, and the forbidden land of Tibet. He has collected flowers from the heights of the Himalayas, and from the depths of marshy Indian -jungles. His last expedition occurred In 1931. On it, he discovered a new pass into Tibet 35,000 feet above sea level, through an out-flung range of the Himalayas. His efforts in prying through thick jungles and climbing high mountains were rewarded in the discovery of a new species of slipper orchid, said to be worth about $500. On another of his Tibetan expeditions, he discovered the blue poppy, a flower that is sought by all Horticulturists in this country and obtained by few. To give an idea of the trying conditions under which he labored, consider that he discovered a new river, the Nam-Tamai, the lost source of the Irrawaddy, which no white man in 2,000 years of civilization had found. All along this river, through virgin forest, he and his small band trudged, meeting wild beasts and hostile bands of natives… He located a people … known only as...the Darus. These people had never seen a white man before Kingdon-Ward arrived. One of the most unusual plants he ever discovered was the rare Nomocharis farreri, a beautiful flower of China. This plant was found by accident and during the height of a violent rainstorm. The flower itself Is rose pink outside and dappled with royal purple inside. Each stem, from 12 to 15 inches in height, bears one, two, or three of the flowers, which grow as large as teacups. The flower which Captain Kingdon-Ward prizes most of all is the Campanula Calicola, "perhaps the most beautiful rock plant I discovered." It was found growing in limestone cliffs and is adaptable lo rock gardens. The Orient is rich in flowers. That land has given us many of our choice blooms. Roses come from India and China; pinks, carnations, and daffodils from Asia Minor; and numerous rare orchids come from the wilds of Tibet. Captain Kingdon-Ward describes a land of rare rhododendrons vividly in a book he wrote on his adventures in China and Asia. "You may wander for days ankle-deep through a chromatic surf of rhododendrons, rose pink, ivory white, lavender, plum purple, crimson and amber yellow. They are woven into carpets of queer design and ample pile, or form tuffets, or hassocks or mere tangles, mats, or brooms. "They spread and sprawl everywhere, bushy and twigulous, all; looming Into flower together; still looking across the dark ocean of moorland, you see the billowy hills crested with color; and, where escarpments break the even roll, the plant growth surges high up the rocks. It Is western Szechwan - the Tibetan marshes - [and] home of the 'Lapponicum' rhododendrons.