Gerald Darby Siberian Iris

Gerald Darby Siberian Iris—It started innocently with that deep purple foliage and before I knew it, Gerald had ingrained himself into my life. In the first post about Gerald, I didn’t know his name. By the second post, we were bosom buddies. That post accidentally touched the life of Judy Darby, who stopped by because her son who’d passed away was named Gerald Darby. After a lovely exchange in comments and e-mail, she has a start of my Gerald in her garden, and I know the sweetness of community through blogging and gardening. Happy New Year, Judy.

Sweet Heidi Cranesbill

Sweet Heidi Cranesbill—This was the first year I noticed how long cranesbill blooms and how little it needs from me—qualities that quickly make a plant near and dear to my heart. Sweet Heidi gave the Jolly Bee a run for its money but with smaller, pink petals. This fall I bought several other varieties so, if they survive the freeze in their nursery pots, hopefully 2010 will also be the year of cranesbill.

Broadway Lights Daisy

Broadway Lights Daisy—This Proven Winner demands nothing from me and danced all summer long with new blooms that open light yellow and become white. I divided my one plant into many, so hopefully I’ll have a nice drift of these next year.

Crocosmia & Blackberry Lily

Crocosmia & Blackberry Lily—I love the cheerful, elegant flowers of crocosmia and blackberry lily and stocked up on several varieties this year. Despite many painful hours on my knees with the camera, I never did get a properly exposed photo of that red devil Lucifer.

Sungold Tomatoes

Sungold Tomatoes—Yum. This was my first year to grow sungolds and little did I know what I’d been missing. I wish I could pluck that one and eat it, just to feel the sweetness of summer again.

Dark Orange Daylily

Dark Orange Daylily—Of all of my beautiful daylilies, the dark orange ones most warmed my heart this year, especially with the late afternoon sun shining through them.

Oranges & Lemons Gaillardia

Oranges & Lemons Gaillardia—I love the delicate form of this gaillardia. It was poorly sited with fierce sun and hardly any water and still it bloomed and bloomed. Unfortunately, it met a sorry death when it fell out of my transplant bucket this fall and lay in the sun for a week shriveling up like a prune. But I’ll get another one.

Pat Austin English Rose & Sedum

Pat Austin English Rose—I don’t buy roses anymore due to upkeep and deer, but this is one I will always have in my garden. Its thorns are as big as my thumb, so the deer (mostly) don’t eat it. And the complex apricot blooms tug at my heart. Unfortunately, I’ve had this one for three years, which is about as long as roses live for me, so I may be in the market for a new one.

Coppertina Ninebark & Bergenia

Coppertina Ninebark—If forced to pick my absolute favorite plant of 2009, it would be my Coppertina Ninebark. Every time I walked past it, it just made me happy, from one season to the next. Coppertina has an underlying wamth that my Diablo and Summerwine ninebarks lack. New foliage is golden in the sun and fall foliage turns from copper to fiery red. Of course, it’s going to be too big in that spot next year. But I’ll deal with that in the spring.

Beatrice Balm

BEATRICE BALM: Yoo-hoo! Over heeere! That’s quite enough with the daylilies now, dear. What does little old Bea Balm need to do to get some camera love in this sorry garden?

DIRTY DAISY: I hear you, honey. I’ve been blooming my daisy head off for months, and that sorry-ass gardener hasn’t mentioned me once.

BEATRICE BALM: My goodness. Lately, it’s been all about those daylily trollops, with their blushing throats and stamens dripping pollen. It’s quite risque, if you ask me.

DIRTY DAISY: Hmmph. Those girls don’t even look natural, honey.

BEATRICE BALM: Well, dear, I’m quite certain that little pink hussy a couple of posts ago had some Photoshop nip and tuck, even though she swore it was all her.

Dirty Daisy

DIRTY DAISY: Talk about pimping it for Hallmark, honey. What a sellout.

BEATRICE BALM: Yes, dear, that girl was quite uppity. There was no love lost on my part when she faded into that good night.

DIRTY DAISY: Well, my photo days are over, honey. That’s for sure. That sorry-ass gardener got sloppy with the hose, and now my petals are all water-stained and dirty.

BEATRICE BALM: Oh, dear. Well, I’m quite certain it’s the dirt and not that she’s embarrassed to photograph you because you’re so … well … common.

DIRTY DAISY: Common? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, honey.

BEATRICE BALM: I’ll have you know, dear, that I’m in this garden because bee balm reminds her of those nice Merten people.

DIRTY DAISY: Well, honey, I’m in this garden because daisies remind her of her Grandma Dora. So there.

Ugly Rudbeckia

UGLY RUDBECKIA: At least you two have petals. She never takes photos of me.

DIRTY DAISY: Yeah, honey. You’re just a novelty that seemed like a good idea at the time.

UGLY RUDBECKIA: Isn’t it ironic, though, that I lived when all of the “pretty” coneflowers died last year?

Yancey Yarrow

YANCEY YARROW: Ladies! Ladies! Knock off the yapping. You’re lucky you’re not a yarrow. That sorry-ass gardener just divided me—IN JULY!

DIRTY DAISY: Only because she loves you, honey.

YANCEY YARROW: That’s some tough love, lady. But I’m plenty man enough to take it, yessiree. Those other yahoos all shriveled up and died in this dry sunny spot.

Helen Helenium

HELEN HELENIUM: Tough love? I’ll tell you about tough love, buddy. Try making a go of it over here in the dappled shade when you’re a sunflower. It was all I could do to finally bloom.

YANCEY YARROW: You’re in luck, lady. See that orange tape around your ankles? Means you’re next for the transplant spade.

HELEN HELENIUM: Oh, joy! I’ll bet that sorry-ass gardener makes me stand around in a bucket of water for two weeks while she decides where to plant me, just like that poor Summerwine Ninebark.

YANCEY YARROW: Hell, lady, old Summerwine’s been in that bucket since at least May. Last I heard, he was on life support.

HELEN HELENIUM: Oh, no. And that sexy Electric Ray iris is in the other bucket. Oh, I hope I don’t get the water-filled trash bag. That’s just sooo demeaning.

Joe P. Weed, Esquire

JOE P. WEED, ESQUIRE: Well, I certainly hope I get the transplant spade. What was she thinking when she heeled in Mr. Joe P. Weed, Esquire under a tree? Honestly.

GAIL GAILLARDIA: She has a short attention span, that’s for sure. She used to stop by every morning and tell me, “Oh, Gail, you’re so pretty,” and photograph me in the golden light. Then she started blogging about those lowly vegetables, of all things.

JOE P. WEED, ESQUIRE: Yep. Now that summer’s getting on, I suppose it’ll be all about those gaudy mophead hydrangeas.

Gail Gaillardia

GAIL GAILLARDIA: Nope. Not this year. Annabelle told me that she and the Paniculata family were the only ones to bloom due to the frigid winter.

JOE P. WEED, ESQUIRE: Brrr. It was a chilly one, all right. But I’ll bet they didn’t bloom because that sorry-ass gardener O-V-E-R-P-R-U-N-E-D them.

GAIL GAILLARDIA: Lordy, she does love her Felcos.

JOE P. WEED, ESQUIRE: Just wait until she starts with the deadheading.

GAIL GAILLARDIA: I’m glad for Annabelle, though. She’s a lovely girl.

Old Yeller Loosestrife

OLD YELLER LOOSESTRIFE: Oh, give me a break. It’s all “Annabelle this …” and “Annabelle that …” All hail, Queen Annabelle. I get so sick of that b*tch. I heard she’s even that sorry-ass gardener’s favorite plant in her Blotanical profile.

GAIL GAILLARDIA: Now that’s just a rumor. She loves all of us … at least in passing.

OLD YELLER LOOSESTRIFE: You just wait. I’ll bet that old bitty Annabelle even gets her own post.

JOE P. WEED, ESQUIRE: Hey there, Old Yeller. I didn’t recognize you. Weren’t you variegated last year?

OLD YELLER LOOSESTRIFE: What can I say, man? Survival of the fittest.

BEATRICE BALM: Quiet! Quiet, everyone! Stand tall, now! Here she comes with the camera! Yoo-hoo! Over heeere!