Spring on the Terrace! We leave for Europe two weeks from now, and as much as I’m looking forward to the trip, I’m already regretting the blooms we’ll miss, a bit envious of those visitors who will care for the garden while we’re away. . . (This seems to be an integral part of my preparation for spring travel — I was writing something similar when getting ready to leave another garden behind for Europe, seven years ago.)
The garden’s featured in my journal recently, as in this entry from week before last, when I mixed some white gouache with some watercolours and sketched the winter aconites and snowdrops (top photograph) that are still blooming beneath the large ornamental maple tree (all in a very large concrete container on the terrace). (Sketching this on the Canson mi-teint paper and then gluing it into the journal was much less messier than my earlier efforts — this way, the dry-media journal paper doesn’t get wet. I used a white Gelly Roll pen for the lettering). . . . Here’s a journal page from last spring in the garden, if you’re interested.
Since I photographed and sketched the snowdrops and their cheery yellow companions, they’ve been joined by these pretty Brunnera macrophylla lacy leaves and dainty flowers. I’m really pleased that we underplanted the trees and shrubs in the larger containers with small bulbs and tubers and a few herbaceous perennials last fall. It’s already added so much interest to the terrace through March, and I’m eager to see how the underplantings work during the summer. The bulbs will die back, of course, but ground cover like the Brunnera should add welcome texture. . .
Here’s another large pot, this one host to a very large hosta that’s just barely beginning to stretch above the soil. As the leaves emerge and unfurl, their rich blue-green will be punctuated by the blue of these Muscari — I bought a couple of pots of muscari in bloom last spring and tucked them into the soil carefully when the hosta was already spreading out — they died back quietly, and seem to have naturalized here quite happily — I’m hoping for one or two blooms before we leave. . . (or, at least, a few photos from the housesitters 😉
We also tucked bulbs into a few otherwise empty pots, so we’re watching for daffodil and tulip blooms. . . and there’s a Dicentra spectabilis ‘Gold Heart’ (Bleeding Heart) under another maple. . .
But we’re not just looking down, on the terrace.
Over the last week or so, I’ve been watching the starry magnolia flowers begin to shoulder their way out of their furry covering. . . .
Texture is everything with these. . .
And tender colour . . .
Oh, speaking of tender colour. . .
I am so enamoured of the flowers on the Corylopsis spicata (common name, some form of WinterHazel — e.g. Japanese winter hazel or golden winter hazel). Mind you, I’m enamoured of everything about this shrub, although its spread is really too demanding for as restricted a garden space as ours. . . Just wait until I show you its pleated leaves later this season. . .
As for leaves, the hydrangea is still with us, despite its challenges with scale insects and my dislike of its strident (to me, at least) pink blooms. I have to admit that it makes a strong focus for the late-summer garden. . .
The value of having roses growing in containers on an exposed terrace five storeys up is less clear, especially since aphids have no trouble finding us up here. . . But this rugosa has been at least holding its own so far, and it does yield a few fragrant roses throughout the summer. It can stay, for now. Not as sure about the neighbouring New Dawn rose, but we’ll see. . . (In case you’re wondering where the hydrangea and roses came from, here’s a post about what “came with” the garden when we moved in.)
And finally, the forsythia! I’d never bothered introducing one to earlier gardens I’ve cared for, but this shrub “came with,” and it’s guaranteed to hold its place, despite getting toppled by wind at least once a year since we’ve been here. . .
Just a week ago, tightly furled, imperatively yellow petals began jutting out of their green cases along the otherwise bare branches. . . .
and this morning, in the sunshine. . . .
I’d actually finished this post, I thought, but glanced up from the table to see the morning sun meet its ambitious earthly imitation. . . both with cerulean sky as stage. . . . And I had to grab my iPhone, scoot outside, and snap this for you.
Any minute now, a Ten will be buzzing our front door, and shortly afterward, her Six-year-old cousin will be arriving, both to hang out with Nana and Granddad during Spring Break. We’re planning a jaunt to the botanical garden where they will be more blooms to savour. While I’m gone, you’re very welcome to leave me a comment: about gardens, or pre-travel regrets vs. anticipation, or about Spring, or changing seasons. Or, you know, anything remotely connected.
Happy Wednesday!
I have pre-travel "I must paint the dining room woodwork;can't possible go anywhere now" syndrome. Always have, always will. Get on the plane, have a Jack Daniels and ginger ale…and sorted, ready for an adventure.
Garden is looking inviting.
P.S. Does it take you ages to pack? Takes me that, but my sweetheart smugly prints off his packing list from Dropbox and is done is 20 mins.. Grrr.
A.in ( a very jittery, all eyes on House of Commons) London
Now, I will happily admit I've never felt a strong need to painting the dining room woodwork before a trip 😉
Yes, I like a two-week run-up to packing, and I haven't begun yet so am feeling some concen. . . and mine does it in about 20 minutes — with no aid of packing lists. Mostly it works. . .
Your House of Commons, ugh! Decided not to attempt a London stop until this is sorted. Good luck to you all.
It is interesting to watch your garden up high. After spending all day crawling around the garden, it’s mighty appealing to think small and manageable. Someday, just not yet.
Ali
I miss so much about my old garden, but less and less, and I don't miss the work at all. You still seem to be enjoying the work, though, and more power to you — your garden is so good and I haven't even seen it in person yet.
Your garden looks beautiful. I'm going back to a dismantled balcony with blue plastic wrap and patio furniture in the den. Methinks I'll be planning outings to the botanical gardens and spending extra time in the parking lot gardens.
Those parking lot gardens are a wonderful palette for you — and the strata is lucky to have you garden there.
What lovely photos, and how interesting that we have many of the same plants, but such a vastly different climate–and different flowering schedule. The daffodils are long over. The rose never stopped blooming all winter. I see forsythia all over, and the first lilac today.
If you've got lilacs blooming now, I'd say you must be at least a month ahead of us. We sometimes have roses bloom through the winter, but we had several significant frosts this year. And there are daffodils blooming around us, but not mine up on the roof. . . It is interesting that we have so much in common, but on different schedules.
Just such a pleasure to see… as you would expect we don't even have snowdrops here.
Sorry . . .
Like Duchesse, not even snowdrops here. Not that we have snowdrops in our garden. But Stu just came in and said the tulips next to our foundation are coming up. Despite the rest of the yard being covered in snow. Still the ice is almost melted on the river and the geese are walking around in water up to their knees. Ha.
Those micro-climates such as your tulips are growing in always fascinate me. . .
Your 5 story high garden is lovely. As for here, the weather is not as bad as it is for the Duchesse and Sue as we are finally getting some decent temps, but it has been a v. slow start to spring here. Having my deck redone next week, so clearing everything off it by this weekend. Plan to empty and clean all the large pots, except the perennials (e.g. Sweet William is just showing his nose) while they are at ground level and then I must decide what to replant in them for May.
Good luck with packing for your trip!
I love Sweet William — such a delightful, old-fashioned flower, and so fragrant. Much work emptying and cleaning the pots, but fun to plan for May's plantings.
It is amazing how many beautiful plants you have in your lovely terrace garden
We have a couple of beautiful spring days-everything is blooming in abundance,flowers,fruit trees….we have planted a cherry,an apricot,apple tree (to replace weak ones) and an elm and maple tree a few weeks ago-I'm going to check it tomorrow
At home,I'm waiting to see my new tulips (a gift,so colours will be a surprise). My magnolia has late bloom but this week will be beautiful
Dottoressa
Will those fruit trees be starting to bloom now? Your orchard will be lovely!
Your magnolia must manage some frost as well, where you are (see Linda's comment below, from northern Scotland)
How lovely! Terrace gardening is a discipline/specialism all on its own – it looks as if you're being captivated by it. Brunnera is such a lovely spring flower. Is that the Jack Frost variety? And you've made me miss my magnolia stellata in my Edinburgh garden. I'm now planning where I can put one up here in the north. More frosts to contend with!
I am enjoying it very much — lovely that it's right there, through the windows, to be admired and to lift spirits.
Yes, this Brunnera is the Jack Frost. I've never had a magnolia tree of any sort in any garden, and I'm quite enjoying this. Ours has no problem with the frosts we get — several days of -7C or so this past winter, for example.
What a joy gardens are this time of year! You've done such a marvelous job with your terrace plantings, creating a nice mix of textures and colors.
Most everything we planted last fall has settled in and is happily showing off new spring growth. I'm especially thrilled to see lots of new blooms (and the beginnings of some new fruit) on our citrus bushes.