Repost: Water for Elephant Ears

A year ago, April temperatures were warm.  This year, it’s been cool — especially the overnight temps, which have approached the freezing mark.  As a result, my patience to get my hands dirty and to get my tropicals into the ground has grown thin.  My solution?  An experiment.  

Since I did not start any seeds in the potting shed this winter, it’s quite empty.  My plan is to plant the Elephant Ears and Canna in pots, place the pots in the potting shed, and then let the heat get their juices flowing.  And that’s the purpose for this repost — I’ll be doing exactly as I spelled out a year ago.  Happy gardening.

Attractive, aren’t they?

The last time I saw my Elephant Ears, they were clipped back, packed into peat moss, and stored in a cement bunker.  With the very warm April temperatures, I couldn’t resist opening up their winter palace.  But unlike Geraldo Rivera and Al Capone’s vault, I found my treasure.

The Saddest Gardener In The World

Okay, maybe not in the entire world – but certainly in my world.

This is the first weekend where fall really feels like fall – as in leaf fall, temperature fall, and mood fall.   As much as I would love to live in denial and believe that I can still put on a pair of shorts and sandals and play like it’s July, the cold front that came in last night has proven that the calendar is indeed correct.

Today was a day to begin cleaning up the fall.

The first order of business was to hack and dig the tropicals and prepare them for winter storage.  The sensible voice in my head knew that this was a mercy killing, a necessary evil so that the canna and elephant ears may live to see another summer – at least in my zone 6/7 garden.  But the emotional voice inside of me said, “Waaaaaahhhhhhh.”

Bloomin’ Update 34: Everybody’s Talkin’ ‘Bout Miss Thing

There is a certain sadness when I look about the waning October garden.  So many blooms have faded and turned to seed; so many leaves have dulled.

And then there are the red hot flowers, looking a bit out of place and overly made-up amid the first flush of autumn’s golds and yellows and rusts.

Celosia — a few plants from last summer reseeded themselves for this year’s garden. Surprise!

And that’s when my imagination takes hold.

A Time Capsule To Call My Own

I know.  This is a gardening blog and this post will not exactly be a gardening one – but I will try and find a connection.  It may be a stretch, but it will be a gardening connection of sorts.  Besides, how often can anyone say that they’ve had the chance to meet themselves – or at least their 20-year-old self?

In past posts, I’ve explained that there is a cement crawlspace behind a closet in my house.  It’s my winter storage bunker for elephant ears and canna.  What I never told you is that my perfectly dry and evenly cool space also holds some boxes and crates filled with my past.

I’ve always thought about cleaning things out, but whenever I’m in the bunker, I’m either loading or unloading plant materials – and gardening, like time and tides, waits for none.  So, my past has remained undisturbed for the 25 years that I have lived with Joe.

Until the other day, that is, when a local cable guy arrived to rewire the house and I had to empty out the bunker – without the excuse of elephant ears and canna.  My personal time capsule would, at last, be opened.

Bloomin’ Update 33: See You In September

Black-Eyed Susan.

It seems fitting that after an interesting amd intense couple of days, I have to extend my thanks to a few people.

First up is Cheri, a WordPress editor, who selected my previous post about 9/11 to be Freshly Pressed.  That means that my blog, for a few days, was one of the featured sites on WordPress — and the response, as you can imagine, was overwhelming.

That brings me to the other people I would like to thank.  You.  All of you.  All 2,400+ readers and the 200+ who chose to follow this site.  I cannot even begin to explain how much your comments and likes meant — and how absolutely moving your comments were.  I’ve had the chance to “meet” people from all over the world, to read of their memories, and to visit other amazing blogs.

And now that the rush has fallen off, it’s time to get back into the garden.  The September garden is an interesting place.  Some plants are worn out and tired, while others appear to be putting on quite a show — like a fireworks finale.  I’m not sure if the hint of cooler weather is rejuvenating their energy, or if they somehow know their end is near.

One thing is certain, though.  All of the plants — and this gardener, as well — are ready for a chance to re-energize for the next growing season.

So, without further delay, here is a stroll through the garden and a look at the blooms from the closing days of summer.

Elephant Ear Gives Birth — LIVE!

A close-up of one of one of the original Elephant Ears in the garden.

This post has been a long time in the making – months, as a matter of fact.

At the start of the growing season, I was strolling through one of the big box stores and found a corm for a red/purple/black leafed variety.  I had seen this same plant in many of the seed catalogs – but in this store, the price was more than right.  It was an elephant-sized bargain.

Once the plant began to grow, however, the only thing true about the advertised color was the stems – strong and purplish black.  The leaves, on the other hand, were greener (and smaller, by the way) – not the same bright green as my other Elephant Ears, but green with hints of darker tones.  In other words, they weren’t the red/purple/black on the packaging.

A close-up of the new arrival. It may not be as green as the original, but it still has its charms.

Although slightly disappointed with the result, I soon found myself drawn to my new plant, especially the glossiness of the leaves.  They were so shiny, in fact, that they looked fake, as if they stepped right off of the Munchkinland set in The Wizard of Oz.

And then I witnessed the miracle of an Elephant Ear leaf birth – the agonizingly slow unfurling of a new leaf emerging from the purple/black stem.

Over the next few weeks, I stood in the same spot to document the debut – like a proud papa tapping on the nursery window.

Weeks since it first emerged from the stem, the leaf is still stretching and growing to to its full size.  Whoever said they grow so fast these days, never had an Elephant Ear.

Happy gardening!

100th Post: Water For Elephant Ears

Attractive, aren’t they?

The last time I saw my Elephant Ears, they were clipped back, packed into peat moss, and stored in a cement bunker.  With the very warm April temperatures, I couldn’t resist opening up their winter palace.  But unlike Geraldo Rivera and Al Capone’s vault, I found my treasure.

 1. After a long winter’s nap, the stems, leaf remnants, and roots have withered from tropical green to paper bag brown.

2. To clean each bulb, I shake off the excess peat moss and dirt.  Then, it’s time to husk the dead leaves, stems, and roots. 

3. It takes a little effort, but once cleaned, there is usually a pinkish shoot at the heart of all that brown – the promise of new growth.

4. Some bulbs may still have healthy looking roots.  These I leave on – might as well give the bulbs a head start once they’re planted. 

 5. This Elephant Ear collection began years ago with the purchase of one bulb. Over time, smaller bulbs developed, like the one pictured here (toward the right), and these can eventually be separated, either manually or on their own.  I’ve also learned that the bigger the bulb, the larger the leaf.  But the smaller bulbs also have value – they can be kept in pots and moved around the garden as filler.

6. To plant the bulbs, the toughest part is choosing the right sized pot.  I add some potting soil to the pot, settle the bulb into place (shoot side facing up, of course), and then fill until the crown is just below the surface. 

7. I’m sure I make more work for myself by first potting the Elephant Ear bulbs.  With the pots, however, I feel I have more control over the plants.  If there should be a frost, I can move the collection indoors.  If a bulb fails to bloom, I won’t have an empty area in the garden.

8. Once planted, I place the pots in a sunny location and water daily.  These are tropical, and they thrive on heat and moisture.  Once they develop leaves, it’s into the garden they go – usually to a partial shade location.

A special thank you to Elaine from Ramblings from Rosebank for suggesting that I post a few photos of Elephant Ears in their glory days of summer.  

 

Next Post: I Canna Believe It’s You

Flora Fan Finds Flora Fun In Florida

We should have known that when we signed the papers for the house, that cluster of thunderstorms would have grown into a monster.

For twenty years now, I’ve been making a list.  One month before Hurricane Andrew slammed into South Florida, Joe and I purchased our retirement home – and ever since, I have worked on my list, editing it, adding to it, rethinking it. 

The list has to do with landscaping our retirement yard, which is pretty much a blank slate.  Over the years, we’ve planted palm trees – thereby giving us the basic garden structure.  But how do I fill in all of the open areas?   How do I adapt my very basic Long Island gardening knowledge to a subtropical zone? 

Saving Elephant Ears & Canna — Part 2

For the sake of saving time, I thought I would combine the final packing practice for Canna and Elephant Ears.  Besides, I don’t think I can actually type the words Canna and Elephant Ears one more time. 

The process is pretty much the same for both plants.  You will need peat moss, some kind of storage container (like brown paper bags), a shovel, and a room that stays relatively dry and evenly cool so that the plants can be lulled into a deep sleep without freezing.  If the final storage location is too damp or warm, the plants never get a chance to rest and they are at risk of rotting away — and after so much work getting to this point, that would be a shame. 

Step 1: Where Canna are concerned, I double up two brown paper bags and label the outside.  I then put a shovel or two of peat moss in the bottom of the bag so the corms have a nesting area.

 

 

 

 

 

Step 2: I then place the corms (stem and all) into the bag. 

 

 

 

 

Step 3: I tend to really pack the bags.  I’m not sure if this is correct, but it’s likely that I do this for the sake of space, since I have so many corms to pack away.  Once the bag is full, I then add more peat moss to the bag, shaking the bag so that the peat moss settles and covers the corms.

 

 

 

 

Step 4: Finally, I have something that looks like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now for the Elephant Ears.  Last year, I stored the Elephant Ear bulbs in a plastic crate lined with a plastic bag.  I’m not sure if this had to do with my loss of energy and wanting to finish the task, needing to save space, or just running out of bags.  Either way, it worked.   By the way, don’t be surprised if your Elephant Ears have continued to grow since you dug them up.

Step 1: Once the crate is lined with a plastic bag, add a few shovels of peat moss into it to give the bulbs a place to rest.

 

 

 

 

Step 2: Load the Elephant Ear bulbs (stem and all) into the peat moss-filled crate.  Again, I tend to pack a lot in there.  Then add peat moss to cover the bulbs.

 

 

 

 

 

Step 3: Ultimately, this is what I am left with.  All that’s left to do now is carry everything into its Safe Room.

 

 

 

 

 

The Final Step: Here is the Safe Room — a cement bunker/bomb shelter hidden behind Joe’s  closet in the bedroom.  Now, anyone who knows me or who has read previous posts understands that I have an active imagination.  As my summer plants continue to live, enclosed behind the closet, my mind races back and forth between Edgar Allen Poe’s Fall of the House of Usher and the classic sci-fi film Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  So far, the Safe Room is protecting Joe and me.  So far. . .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saving Elephant Ears — Part 1

With frost rapidly approaching, it’s time to remove my tender Elephant Ears and prepare them for winter storage.  My method is something that I have adapted over the years, and it’s based on what I’ve learned after saving dahlias and caladium. 

What you will need: garden clippers, a pitchfork or shovel, old clothes, nerves of steel.

Step 1: The first thing to do is cut back the stems.  I try to leave about 8″ to 10″ of stem.  No matter how many times I have done this, I always feel a little guilty because the leaves have reached their fullest.  But, alas, all good things must come to an end.  Do not be surprised if there is a gush of water that pours from the stalk after you make your cut. 

Step 2: After the stalks are cut, within minutes they begin to “bleed.”  If you decide to try this project, be sure to wear old clothes — the brown/red liquid will stain and it does not come out in the wash.  I learned this the hard way, and now I have my Elephant Ear cutting outfit.

Step 3: Using the pitchfork, I carefully work in a circle, prying up the bulb.  Once it feels loose, I gently pull the base upward, revealing the bulb and the wild mass of roots.  At this point, I will shake off the excess dirt.  You may notice that your main bulb might have smaller bulbs attached.  Do not separate these at this time — that task will be much easier in the spring when you replant your bulb.

Step 4: Here we have pretty Elephant Ears all lined up in a row.  Once the plants are dug, I store them for a little more than a week in the potting shed.  It’s warm enough and dry enough for the bulbs to set before they are packed away.

 

 

Stay tuned for a future post on the final step.