Rising from bare roots

The bare root plants I bought this spring are thriving beyond my wildest expectations! These are native perennials and a native shrub that I ordered from Prairie Moon Nursery in Minnesota. 

I'm hoping for false aster flowers like these from a bare root specimen-photo David J. Stang

When I put them into the ground in late April, the idea was that they would send up stems and leaves rapidly. 

    Bare root plants are harvested earlier in the season than plants that have already leafed out. I’d seen bare root roses that arrived looking like dead sticks transform themselves into flourishing bushes covered with flowers. I’d never seen this happen with perennials, though, and I wasn’t sure how many of them would make it.

Would this become a 3-by-3-foot flowering  plant?

    I wanted to try this approach because it would serve two environmental goals. Roots are smaller and lighter than perennials in full leaf sitting in pots of moist growing medium. 

A plant in a pot takes more energy to ship

That means they carry a lower carbon cost for shipping. In addition, I’ve been looking for ways to use less plastic. The bare root plants were shipped inside plastic bags, true, but that was much less plastic than what I’d be getting with potted plants. I was glad to see that the nursery bagged all plants of one species together, rather than wrapping them individually.

    The little roots seemed delicate when I opened the bags. The garden was just coming into leaf as I carefully nestled them into the soil I’d prepared for them. Then we had a cool May, and the ground stayed moist. That was lucky, because the leaves and pine needles I covered the bare root plants with to hide them from digging animals fooled me too. I often forgot to water them.

    Almost two months later, the bare root plants are definitely doing what they were supposed to. In the bed next to the deck, wild strawberries (Fragaria virginiana) 

Wild strawberry

and wild geranium (Geranium maculatum) popped right up through the chicken wire I’d laid over them for protection. They’re now robust young plants that look ready to face the summer. 

Wild geranium

I sited the early meadow rue (Thalictrum dioicum) next to a bird bath so it could catch some extra irrigation when I slosh out dirty water to replace it with clean. This plant sent up a half dozen slender wiry stems topped with small fern-like leaves. I hope to see its pale yellow flowers next spring. 

Early meadow rue

False aster (Boltonia asteroides) got a sunny spot next to the fish pond. 

False aster

It’s not taking off like a potted New England blazing star (Liatris novae-angliae) has nearby. It’s alive, though, and presumably gathering its strength for a growth spurt later in the summer.

New England blazing star

    Truly impressive is the bare root coralberry (Symphoricarpos orbiculatus) that I planted and mostly neglected on the slope leading down to the back fence. Left on its own, it sent out leaves and looks to be thriving. 

Coralberry

This shrub is reportedly a vigorous grower. I’m hoping that its somewhat adverse conditions in my yard will keep it to a reasonable size while it provides wildlife with welcome flowers and fruit.

Thanks, decomposers

With the May Day spotlight on under-valued workers, I’m grateful for the work of decomposers in the garden. Last fall I lamented my depleted compost supply. Now I’m rejoicing to see lots of fresh compost in my bins. This strengthens my impression that compost is like sourdough starter, full of what’s needed to reproduce itself. Once you’ve got the process going, it gets easier and quicker over time.

Under a layer of fall leaves in the bin, I found new compost

    That’s despite my lazy woman’s composting approach. I just pile on the garden waste as it comes. I don’t turn the piles or bother balancing the amount of “brown” high carbon and “green” high nitrogen materials. Compost still happens.

Adding fall leaves to a bin I emptied last fall

    Composting is central to my garden. With a renewed supply of compost, I’m ready to add some oomph to the perennial beds by improving soil from above—no need to dig in that extra organic material, because soil organisms will incorporate it.

Things go better with compost

    I’ll also save some compost for making homemade potting mix. By mixing it with coir, or coconut fiber, I make peat-free potting mix that works just as well as the bagged stuff I used to use for container plants.

Peat-free potting mix: because harvesting peat contributes to climate change

    In 2011, I had my compost tested for biological activity by Soil Food Web, a lab in New York. I highly recommend this experience. The lab reported the populations of the types of organisms in my compost sample: bacteria, fungi, protozoa, and nematodes. They calculated the ratio of fungal to bacterial biomass and observed that the compost was mature, bacterial-dominated, and becoming more fungal. 

     I even got a note, “One of the better compost samples I’ve seen in a while. Keep up the good work.” The only caveat: “Need to work on nematode diversity a bit more.” To that end, they recommended inoculating the pile with forest duff, the mix of half-decomposed material that lies on the forest floor. You can bet I did that right away.

Beneficial nematodes thrive on the forest floor

    Looking out at the thick layer of fall leaves I left on the beds last fall, I recognize that the whole garden depends on the same work these small organisms do in the compost pile. It’s often said that without the work of detritivores--animals such as earthworms that take in, break up, and digest dead stuff—and decomposers--bacteria and fungi that absorb nutrients from dead materials--we’d be living on top of huge piles of dead animals and plants.

    I don’t just count on these small organisms in the compost bins. They’re also hard at work building soil and turning fallen leaves into leaf mold. The wood chips that I spread on paths and around trees and shrubs last a long time, but they too are broken down, predominantly by fungi that can digest lignin, the polymer that makes wood rigid and resists rot. Without those fungi, I’d have everlasting mulch, but it would do a lot less for the underlying soil.

Wood chips would be around forever without decomposing fungi

    Composting is just a half-domesticated way of speeding up what’s happening all around us, thanks to those unseen workers.

As soil organisms break down fall leaves, they make good soil for spring flowers

Bare root planting in a dog's backyard

My native perennials arrived from Prairie Moon Nursery in Minnesota. My reason for shopping at this distant site was the chance to buy plants in bare root form. They’re harvested before the perennials send up shoots for spring, packed in peat moss, and shipped with much less plastic than usually accompanies mail order perennials.

False aster roots ready to plant

    I’m still expecting to receive most of my new pollinator plants from Garden in the Woods, the native plant center in nearby Framingham. I’ll need an appointment to pick up my plants with appropriate social distancing, and I’m still waiting to hear when that will be. These locally native plants won’t be bare root, but they’ll come with a low carbon cost for transportation.

    Garden in the Woods didn’t offer false aster (Boltonia asteroides), though, which is why I connected with Prairie Moon. Once I was on their website, I was intrigued by other native perennials they offered and expanded my order.

One of the intriguing natives was early meadow rue (Thalictrum dioicum)-photo

Tom Potterfield

    The plants arrived as plump packages of peat moss in thin plastic bags. 

Minimal plastic involved

Each species was packed in just one bag: five wild strawberries (Fragaria virginiana) were together in one package. Several of the labels included a diagram showing how deep to set the bare root plant in the ground. I was surprised to learn, for example, that the apparent crown of a early meadow rue was to be buried an inch beneath the soil surface.

Planting instructions

    On a sunny afternoon, I identified the planting sites and surveyed my defensive materials. I was looking forward to seeing the roots develop into young perennials, but that wouldn’t happen if our puppy dug them out of their holes. Fortunately I had a leftover roll of chicken wire and another of hardware cloth—wire fencing with half-inch openings.

    First I tucked the false aster into its prepared spot next to the garden pond. It should be safe inside the fencing enclosure I’d built for it last week. I watered it well and wished it success.

False aster as safe as I could make it

Next I planted the coralberry (Symphoricarpos orbiculatus) near the back fence where this vigorously spreading shrub will have room to expand. I surrounded it with a ring of hardware cloth wired to two metal stakes. If that doesn’t protect it, I’m out of ideas.

Coralberry in a wire cage

    The remaining perennials needed a different approach.  White trout lily (Erythronium albidum) I planted in a moist, shady spot near the bird bath, covering the planting area with chicken wire. I anchored the chicken wire with sturdy two-pronged earth staples and attempted to disguise it with a layer of pine needles (Visual camouflage probably doesn’t fool dogs, I know). 

If white trout lilies survive, they'll be glorious-photo Fritz Flohr Reynolds

I gave the same treatment to a section of a bed off the deck, where I planted the wild strawberries and three wild geraniums (Geranium maculatum). There I tried for extra security by sliding the edge of the chicken wire under a bluestone paver I use as a stepping stone.

Wild geranium-photo David J. Stang

    Now I’m waiting to see whether my arrangements are dog-proof. Here’s hoping!