First day of spring

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My front garden on the west side of the house, but shaded by a bank of trees.

My front garden on the west side of the house, but shaded by a bank of trees.

I thought you might want to see what’s growing here now and how the garden looks mid-March. This is the front garden. From a distance, there isn’t much color yet. A few small narcissus have bloomed. The lovely ‘Tete-a-Tete’ is nearly finished. You may also be able to spot an occasional yellow pansy. Pansies and violas edge the front border in spring. Deciduous ‘Jane’ magnolia is trying to bloom at left, but I’m hoping it will hold off. We’re supposed to have snow and freezing temperatures this weekend. If we do freeze, the magnolia blooms will turn an ugly shade of brown, always a possibility every year. At this point, I won’t cover anything except the tree peonies in back. They only flower for a short time, and I want to see those crepe paper blooms flutter in the wind. I have two tree peonies, one having succumbed to the Oklahoma summer of 2011.

Iris reticulata 'Harmony' blooms beneath 'Jane' magnolia. It is finished before  'Jane usually starts.

Iris reticulata ‘Harmony’ blooms beneath ‘Jane’ magnolia. It is finished before ‘Jane usually starts.

Tiny Iris reticulata ‘Harmony’ are planted beneath the magnolia. I’ll take you up close to see them. These miniatures don’t bloom for long, but while they do, they are worthy of getting down on one’s stomach to snap a shot. Just gaze upon that intense purple. ‘Katherine Hodgkin’ is an icy blue, and I have it planted in the border alongside the garage. It’s already finished. I. reticulata ‘George’ also grows in the black mondo grass in the back garden, and in a protected area of the tiered beds. It’s already finished in the black mondo, but I’m still waiting to see it in the more shaded area near the back deck.

I didn't straighten this photo, but left the three green chairs as they really are. My entire garden rests on a hill.

I didn’t straighten this photo, but left the three green chairs as they really are. My entire garden rests on a hill. You can see the three types of tommies in front. ‘Ruby Giant’ is at left.

In the shaded front lawn, the only place I grow fescue, I planted three different varieties of Crocus tommasinianus, the species, ‘Ruby Giant’ and ‘Barr’s Purple’ just to see if they would work. So many things others can do in more moderate climates, I cannot do here. However, I like these bulbs in the small, green lawn of fescue. I’ll plant more this fall. The tommies actually show up better here than in the mixed border. Something to consider because they are so tiny. Below is a closeup of ‘Ruby Giant.’ It fairly glows in spring light. However, the other colors do too. One, probably the species, is behind ‘Ruby Giant’ on the right at the very top of the picture.

Crocus tommasinianus 'Ruby Giant' in the lawn.

Crocus tommasinianus ‘Ruby Giant’ in the lawn.

Here is a long view of the back garden.

Back garden spring

The back garden in spring is full of work still to do, but it’s beginning to take shape.

I’m really glad I began planting bulbs back here and spreading about seeds of blue Phlox divaricata–not yet blooming–for two reasons. First, it improved the look of the back garden in early spring, and second, it makes me get out there earlier to clear the leaves and tired perennial foliage before the bulbs bloom. I planted the same tommies in these beds, but they haven’t been as happy here as in front. Perhaps, the soil is too heavy. Before I planted daffodils and Leucojum aestivum passed along from my friend Leslie, I’d wait to do the back garden. I spent so much time on the front preparing for Easter that I had little time to do the back. Since we’re no longer hosting Easter for the family, I don’t feel like the front and my house have to be show ready. Bulbs need oak leaves cleared away for best bloom, and I find myself doing these chores much earlier. Then, I put shredded leaves on top. Yes, I see the irony, but oak leaves mat down in spring and stifle growth. Once they’re shredded, everything is bliss.

A shot on the right side of the back garden as I stand on the deck. The blue chairs need repainting.

A shot on the right side of the back garden as I stand at the top. The blue chairs need repainting.

Thank goodness I got to this garden early because an aster–I don’t remember which one–ran amok in the “wet” bed. Some asters (really non-asters now) are rhizomatous meaning they have underground shoots that help them take hold and spread. In dry soil, they don’t spread as much, but in wet clay they can be a real problem. Wet is relative here too. This bed has clay beneath the soil and remains wetter than most of the others. Much of our land is sandstone and sandy red soil, but I do have pockets of clay. Over the years, I’ve built up the raised beds over both types, but two remain more moist than others. They are also in partial shade which adds to their wetness.

One of my hellebores out of the Brandywine strain. I have three, and they are all similar, yet different.

One of my hellebores out of the Brandywine Series. I have three, and they are all similar, yet different. I like how this one holds its head up and faces you. The light yellow shows up well in the shade garden too.

The hellebores are at their peak in the back garden, and they seem to love this space. Maybe it’s the early morning sunlight. I don’t know, but they are more floriferous than the ones out front. However, they were also added later when I think better seed strains came along. The Brandywine Series is lovely, and it originated in David Culp’s garden. Culp recently wrote The Layered Garden: Design Lessons for Year-Round Beauty from Brandywine Cottage, which my friend, Carol, gave me. Although I can’t grow many of the plants Culp suggests from experiences in his Pennsylvania garden, his techniques are helpful and proven. Plus, I love his hellebores. Here is another.

Pink hellebore from the Brandywine Series

One of the great things about hellebores is how they catch the light. Just look at the petals on this pink hellebore from the Brandywine Series.

This year, I also added some hellebores from the Winter Jewels strain, including ‘Jade Tiger,’ ‘Peppermint Ice’ and ‘Golden Lotus.’ All are double. I dragged ‘Jade Tiger’ and ‘Peppermint Ice’ home from the Northwest Flower and Garden Show in my suitcase, and both went ahead and bloomed again after I planted them. ‘Peppermint Ice’ is below. My ‘Jade Tiger’ has the form of ‘Peppermint Ice,’ but it is green with dark purple edges.

Fully double 'Peppermint Ice' hellebore

Fully double ‘Peppermint Ice’ hellebore

I also added ‘Harlequin Gem,’ a double in a darker shade. If you’d like to read more about hellebores and seed strains, follow the links, above. Different seed strains have different strengths. I am starting to see hellebore babies now, and I’m glad. I’ve been moving them where I want them to grow The nice thing about hellebores is that they stay evergreen all year, but once they finish blooming, they are hardly noticeable throughout summer. You only see them once winter comes. They are also nice in really tough spots. I have one growing in a terrible place . . . yet, it keeps on blooming year after year. Cut off tattered foliage in early February to make the flowers more noticeable.

Narcissus with orange cups

Narcissus with orange cups

As for the daffodils, I gave up long ago trying to keep them straight. There are too many, and I’ve just decided to enjoy them. I hope you do too. Thanks for visiting.

 

 

Falling for fall

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Rosa ‘Cramoisi Superieur’ that likes this cooler weather. It balls up through the spring and won’t bloom in summer, but in fall, it is glorious. Probably the last of the roses blooming this year.

What is it about fall that stirs our imagination? On Pinterest, the boards displaying the best of autumnal blessings are lighting up like candles. I have two myself, Falling for Fall and Harvest Time, and I may add more as the season progresses.

From what I see, four themes dominate the natural Pinterest boards: fall, All Hallows Eve, Christmas and spring. There must be a reason. The two holidays make sense. The word holiday is derived from “holy days,” and these holidays are the biggest in the American calendar, although not the biggest in the liturgical calendar. Easter is king there.

A view of Pennisetum setaceum ‘Fireworks’ along with an aster and roses. Fall leaves are just starting to turn.

Feelings about spring and fall are more transient, but these seasons grab at our heart strings as well. I think it’s their transience that makes them so appealing Both appear on the scene in a kind of awakening. Like a toddler, spring begins its progression in a series of fits and starts, forward marches and fall-back positions. Warm weather and sunny skies mix in the central south with devastating late freezes. Throughout spring, we rejoice and collectively hold our breath until late April arrives, and then, suddenly it’s summer.

I don’t even want to talk about summer.

Ipomoea lobata, Spanish flag, that doesn’t start blooming here until the weather cools a bit.

Fall is different. It is a slow and beautiful dying, like a gorgeous woman emitting her last sighs. Days grow progressively shorter, and although September and October are still warm, you begin to wake in darkness, and suddenly you know it is the slow descent into winter. If summer has been harsh, you swear you don’t mind . . . but in that small place in your heart, you feel a little twinge. If the summer has been a mild one, you regret winter’s arrival even more.

One of my favorite views of the house and the back garden looking up the hill.

When I started this blog five years ago in early October, I wrote about summer’s last bouquet. That November I pondered fall’s color palette and rejoiced in its beauty. This autumn, as rain slowly falls outside my kitchen window, I remain grateful and full of wonder. It is a celebration of the end of things, along with a bit of melancholy at the start of others. We never know what kind of winter we will have, and I always wonder if spring will ever come again–even though I know it must.

Rusty arbor and Hydrangea arborescens ‘Annabelle.’ The blooms will soon turn a soft brown to match the arbor.

Enjoy this fleeting season. Get outside, walk the parks, or garden in your own space. Visit a local nursery, and buy something that heralds the season like an aster, mum or pumpkins. Plant so that your garden will culminate in its most beautiful expression in autumn, and you’ll rejoice at summer’s end too.