I haven’t yet learned all I was taught during the 2020 growing season, but I’ve learned enough to get me started on this year’s journey.
Last summer I decided to plant morning glories around a dead Canada red cherry tree in the yard. While alive, it had the most beautiful scent of any plant I have ever inhaled. Better than lilacs, better than lilies of the valley, and right up there with tomato plants.
After it died, it still carried sentimental value in my heart, so I decided to use it as a trellis. Bring in the morning glory seeds. I planted them. They grew, and with coaxing, wound around the trunk and into the branches of the Canada red cherry tree.
No blooms. So I fertilized. Still no blooms. So I fertilized some more. Though morning glories are famous for reseeding for the next year, with no blooms, and therefore, no seeds, I had no hope of any new plants this spring.
Bring in a new packet of seeds, nick the hulls, soak them overnight and sprinkle them at the base of my Canada red cherry tree. This year I hoped for a blooming column of color out my kitchen window. A few blossoms appeared, then no more. So once again I fertilized. And fertilized. No blossoms at all.
Now, I’ve always claimed I know nothing about flowers. This proves it.
I don’t know how I’ll amend the soil now that I’ve learned that morning glories hate to be fed. The more nitrogen, the less they bloom. The foliage goes nuts but no blooms.
At the top of this 20-foot tree skeleton, the vines are waving at the sky looking for more limbs to grow on. But no blossoms.
What kind of a plant hates to be fertilized?
I still have high hopes of seeing a tower of morning glories of all colors surrounding the trunk of this Canada red cherry before it falls over. It might take a few years, though, as I was quite liberal with the fertilizer.
I have consoled myself with the idea that I had hoped for a column of color, and I got it. The color is green.
Speaking of green, my first season of using my greenhouse held a few surprises and provided a learning curve.
I spread out the rug we had purchased when we bought our camper. Turns out those rugs kill grass in campgrounds, and therefore, are not allowed in most.
Since the problem in campgrounds is grass killing, I thought it would be a good weed barrier in my greenhouse, and just about the right size, too. I thought I was pretty smart to have thought of it.
During one of our torrential rains last summer, my greenhouse flooded. The rug got wet. The plants got moldy.
Mostly just the fruits of the tomatoes molded, not the foliage. That cleanup job is a disgusting one. The rug came out as soon as I could get it out. It was not moldy. I guess it’s treated with something that I probably didn’t want in my greenhouse, anyway.
I did have a few grass seeds germinate in the greenhouse that were easily pulled out. The only other volunteer I had growing in there was something that, after I pulled out, I realized was a beautiful celosia plant — also known as cockscomb.
The very second I saw it, I grabbed it and yanked it out. After, as I looked at it and realized what it was, I felt almost immediate regret. The plant and its flower are beautiful. Still, I didn’t want it growing in the ground in my greenhouse.
I have no idea where that seed came from. I haven’t grown celosia for years, so I haven’t had any known source of seeds.
Because it was so pretty, I’m inspired to grow some on purpose next year. I’ll need to do some research to see if they like fertilizer before I do.