Have you ever noticed when something (or someone) gets stuck in your craw you suddenly see it everywhere?

My ex-boyfriend, for example, drove a gold Vovlo grocery-getter, a boxy station wagon popular with suburban families in the early 90’s — and even more popular with urban hipsters in the late 90’s. While we were dating, it was the only one on the road. After we broke up, everyone was vrooming around in a Volvo. Did Denny Hecker have another hail super sale?

I know this sounds a little neurotic, but five years later, I’m having the same experience with hostas. Yes, HOSTAS.

Once I started to notice these prolific perennials I could not “un-notice” them. Ringed around tree trunks, mailboxes and birdbaths, Minnesotans are hot and heavy for hostas. Isn’t there any else you can plant under your pines? Perhaps some Snow-on-the-Mountain? (Oh, wait… that’s almost as prolific as hostas.)

When I moved into my first house, I swore I’d dig up every hosta and dump them on the curb with a big FREE FOR YOUR BIRDBATH sign. But soon, I began to wise up. Rain, hail, drought — many plants ended their lives in my compost bin, but these green machines could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’.

This year, as I watch my neighbors plant their hostas in full-sun, I feel a need to intervene. “Step away from your shovel. All this plant needs is a little shade. Exposure to full-sun all day will stress your hosta to death!”

I guess you could say I’ve officially changed from a hosta hater to a hosta sympathizer. They aren’t the one size-fits-all gardening solution in my yard, but they are very hardy place-holders that have earned my respect.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you learned to appreciate a plant you once disliked?

Our fiddle head ferns are in in full swing. One day, they’re tiny green question marks. The next day, the backyard is full of four-foot fronds of luscious green feathers. They grow so thick in the spring that we’ve renamed the north side of our house “Jurassic Park”.

By July, the angle of the sun changes and my green ferns fry to a crisp brown. Not very attractive to say the least. I’ve transplanted a few ferns to other parts of my yard to spare them from the summer BBQ season. So far, I haven’t had any luck. They don’t appreciate my relocation efforts and are quite happy to do their own thing.

Maybe the answer isn’t to move the ferns, but plant different kinds of ferns in the same location to offset the July die-back. Hmmm… Perhaps I’m just looking for an excuse to buy more plants?

How are your ferns doing this spring? What are your favorites? What have given you the most trouble? Do you have any tips for successful transplanting?

Another uber-busy weekend came and went at the SLP Cat Ranch. Saturday afternoon, the BF and I hosted my grandfather’s birthday party. There’s something exhilarating about preparing and cooking kabobs for 20 people, lighting candles on your mother’s homemake chocolate cake and singing happy birthday to an 85 year-old man who’s still sharp as a tack.

There’s also something equally exhilarating about helping your last guests to their car, changing out of your best-dressed duds and pulling on your dirty work jeans and garden gloves.

I had no energy left for dirty dishes, but there was plenty for prairie plants. No sod is safe when you have a shovel in one and a microbrew in the other.

Here’s the side yard before I got down to business. I really like our neighbors, but I don’t like the view. There is nothing aesthetically pleasing about chain-link fence or dead grass.

This side of the yard is right next to the driveway and is too narrow for shrubs. It also gets full sun all day long, so I decided to plant the new bed with some tall native grasses and flowering prairie plants. The bed looks rather bare now, but I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

Are you nutty for natives? What flowering prairie plants or grasses have you planted? Any surprises?

I can grow a pepper in my sleep, but poppies, with their fuzzy buds and paper-thin petals, are totally perplexing to me. I bought two pre-potted poppies from a garden center lat year. One died right away — Too much sun? Too little? And the other sprouted leaves early in the spring, then just stopped growing.

Starting from seed has been equally disappointing. Three sprouts from a whole package of seeds? What IS it about my yard that you poppies don’t like?

Luckily, I’m not the only gardener with poppy concerns. Yvette posted an interesting poppy question yesterday:

i have a question - i sowed some flanders poppies (aka corn/shirley) directly into the ground about 4 weeks ago, as the pack said they don’t like being transplanted and can be outside before the last frost. they have sprouted, but have remained tiny and have not got any true leaves yet. are they just waiting for warmer weather? and do you know how quick they grow (ie how long do i have to wait for flowers?)

Are you a poppy person? What can Yvette and I do to encourage growth? Are some soils better than others for perfect poppies? How long do we have to wait for blooms?

More than veggies are coming up at the Cat Ranch. With highs in the mid-sixties, flower buds are getting a bit braver.

Five weeks ago, I started some himalayan blue poppies. True to GG reader warnings, this flower is terribly fickle. From an entire seed packet, I only got three teeny sprouts. This one here is the largest:

Strawberry plants must be a hardy lot. I transplanted this orphaned plant in November. I thought it was toast, but it decided to bloom.

Speaking of pink, my peonies are about two feet tall. These buds are tiny predecessor to June’s (hopefully) huge blooms.

How are your ornamentals coming along? Are your buds beginning to look more like plants than sprouts? It’s so exciting to watch the yard come alive, isn’t?