Janice Collins Bailey, A Dog’s Day of Summer

 

Shortly after I moved back to Wichita from Emporia, I bought a house that was on a half-acre. The space was great, but nothing was going on in the front yard in the way of plantings. Somewhere out of the blue, I decided I’d like to try a prairie garden. Something different, I thought, and it wouldn’t require too much maintenance and irrigation. My garden has hardy perennials and prairie wildflower plants.

I started with Big Bluestem grass, but it grew so tall, it was more than I could handle so I dug it out. I had a whole row of Little Bluestem and it looked beautiful when the wind blew, but it attracted ticks so I dug it up and gave most of it to the Sedgwick County Zoo for their expansion.

For prairie flowers, I planted Moonbeam Coreopsis, Indian Blanket, Upland Sea Oats, Black-eyed Susan, Russian Sage, Purple Coneflower, Yarrow, Shell Leaf Penstemon, and so on. I have a gardening friend who brings me things every now and then. In spite of the beautiful names, if most of my wildflowers were growing in other people’s gardens, they might simply be considered weeds. But my family and neighbors like mine the way they are.

My patch is ever evolving in mysterious ways. Wildflower seeds drift from one spot to another in the garden. I suppose they are either borne on the wind or carried by wildlife. Things pop up where I haven’t planted them. Some come from unknown sources, making little surprises as the years pass.

This brings me to an example that happened this summer. I don’t always remember the names and dates of many of my plants, but I know I didn’t plant any Daisy Fleabane. However, a swath of it appeared, and this year I let the tall wispy stems go wild. It looked great hovering over the other plants with its small white flowers.

One day in late July, Torrey, my Sheltie/Pomeranian-mix dog, was out in the back garden. I called him and when he came close, I saw hundreds of little specks on his thick, black coat. I tried to pull them off, but they were snagged in his fur and difficult to remove. I spent an hour picking and cutting them out of his coat.

That night, I went out and pulled up all of the plants that had that kind of seed on them!

The next morning, I was working in the front garden and realized that the little devils were the seeds of Daisy Fleabane.

I worked for about an hour pulling more of those plants out, and I still had another session to go. I had so many of those seeds on the backs of my garden gloves, I just threw the gloves out rather than trying to remove all the seeds. The beauty of Daisy Fleabane has certainly lost most of its luster for me.

I’m sure I’ll have new growth next year. But if I keep any, it will be limited and well-observed so I can remove it before it goes to seed. When it comes to Daisy Fleabane, you can have too much of a good thing!