We have to be out of the house most of the day today (real estate doings), and so of course it’s raining, and even better (yes, that’s sarcasm), we left the car in the (big) city for the kids from Rome to use. So today’s plan includes two umbrellas to shelter us as we head to yoga, then stretch out a long, late breakfast, some time in the local library, a walk along the waterfront, a bit of window-shopping in our little city’s small downtown, a glass of wine and a light lunch somewhere, and some coffee-shop time with our laptops at some point. Hmmm, I started out feeling a bit disgruntled about being ejected from the comforts of home, but that’s actually a decent daytime date with my guy, isn’t it?
Yesterday, though, I stayed home all day, and I took my Nikon out in the garden. Yes, my wandering out there is rather bittersweet these days, but I’m increasingly ready to surrender the garden to someone else’s care. There are so many, many garden photos here on the blog over the years, and I suspect I’ll occasionally enjoy looking back at them, but I’m curious about what I’ll aim my camera at in future, and where. . . We’ve lived in a beautiful spot for a very gracious span of time, but there are other beauties out there, and I’m eager to check them out as well.
Meanwhile, though, I practiced my depth-of-focus skills, yesterday, on all the burgeoning spring growth.
Hostas. . .
and rose leaves . . .
and dainty Corydalis (I’m always pleased to spot this shy purple cousin of the cheery filler, the yellow C. lutea — this purple variety blooms fairly early in the spring, and then the whole plant, flowers and leaves, will fade away before the summer drought, while the stalwart C. lutea spreads everywhere, thrives in seemingly all conditions).
my beloved rhodo, Temple Belle — will we see these buds open this year?
the Flowering Red Currant is coming to the end of its blooming season, but still drawing the humming birds (Pater almost got drilled by one the other day, its long needle of a bill missing his head by centimetres as it zoomed past him on a mission!)
New growth and old rose hips on Rosa ‘Royal Sunset’ — Ooh, I’ll miss this beauty! I hope to see a few of its apricot-coloured blooms before we hand over keys.
And the yew tree. It’s been a privilege to have lived with this ancient fellow for the last twenty-something years. A slow-growing tree, the diameter of ours indicates that it’s old enough and rare enough to be protected as a heritage tree by our city, and I hope that protection will be sufficient to ensure the tree can add a few more centuries to its resume. I love its peeling bark, its twisting trunk. . .
Not far from the yew tree, in the semi-wild strip of garden, we’ve left the native shrubs and trees, but enhanced the underplanting with some favourite easy-care groundcovers. . .
The Dicentra formosa (and yes, Bleeding Heart is a much prettier name, but has the problem of referring to a number of different plants) is native to the Pacific Northwest, and has happily spread out under the canopy of trees. I was equally happy to get down on my hands and knees in the damp foliage to get some photos. . . The yellow to the left is from the flowers of the also-native Oregon grape (Mahonia, this one the dwarf variety, nervosa).
I suspect I’ll be sharing more garden photos with you over the next few weeks as I savour its growth one last season. I thank you, in anticipation, for your patience. . . And now, I’m off for a day in town. First stop, yoga! We’ll chat soon, okay? Feel free to leave a comment — I love them all!
Sounds like you have planned an ideal day Mater – enjoy! I was at the gym this morning for a short session with the trainer, then physio for my hip. Now I've just finished a cup of tea, looking out at the snow falling. Yes. Snow. Supposed to be 10-15 cm today. Ugh!
Ah, hips! Glad you have a physio helping you sort yours out. I think we're going to do a few sessions with my sister's trainer when we move to the city.
Ugh about the snow, and I'm sending you copious sympathy!
What a lovely post and pictures to brighten my day of grading. The old tree is just fabulous. Isn't it wonderful that we can now designate heritage trees and protect them?
Not being able to go home is a strange feeling, but it looks as if you made the most of it.
Lynn
I do think it's great that we recognise trees as our heritage finally — too bad it took us so long.
And it is a strange feeling — how fortunate I have been that that should be true!
Beautiful photos!
Did you think of planting more of your favorites plants in pots and find them a place temporarily (your sister maybe?) and than take them with you to the new home
Dottoressa
I have thought of that, but now I'm rather leaning toward not. I'm going to try and accept the clean slate I'm being offered by the move . . . 😉
Your garden is coming to life beautifully, and the recording of it by your camera is filled with sweet and melancholy. The rhodo shot is especially striking. Hope you enjoyed your day in town.
We had a good day, thanks! Surprisingly, I'm not feeling too much melancholy anymore, although that may well be a temporary change. . .
Your flowering currant is very different to ours. Your hostas are just at the same stage. So far apart but similar in so many ways. Sadly we have no humming birds. Being drilled by a humming bird, now there's a thought. B X
What's the difference? Perhaps we're talking about different shrubs that share a common name. Mine is a ribes sanguineum, but it may be that I've just caught the flowers at a different angle. I do think we're very fortunate, in "the New World" with the brilliance of hummingbirds — they're very magical!
These are especially appreciated as I look out on the park next to my place, at an inch and a half of fresh…snow. It's an entirely different feeling to •have• to stay out of your house! When house hunting here, I was amazed at how many owners did not leave. (And not because they had young children.) Agents' request to vacate for showings is IMO wise- people can't relax, look and say what they want.
Oh, I'm glad you're taking the flower photos so well. It must sometimes be quite horrid to hear us gloating from the West Coast when you're still coping with snow and ice.
As inconvenient as it sometimes is to leave, I can't imagine staying home to listen to prospective buyers evaluate our home.
What a beautiful garden you are leaving behind, I can understand your sadness. Can you take cuttings from favourites and pot them on when you find your new garden/balcony/doorstep? Coffee, yoga, window shopping and lunch with a glass of wine sounds like a very good day to me! X
It was a good day, although we settled on beer over wine, and I fit in a needlework lesson at a local shop.
Corydalis! I just saw this unknown-to-me plant on a walk along the Central California coast a few days ago! I marveled that it looked so much like it's yellow relative…but purple!? So across miles and wires, you solve a little mystery for me! Thank you! Yes, a wonderful itinerary for your day in the comfortable company of your guy. :). Your garden photos are beautiful captured moments of the Renewal of spring and the Stability of the yew tree. Thank you for sharing. I look forward to more!
Charlene H.
Yes, I think this is C. flexuosa 'Pere David." I once had a C. flexuosa 'Blue Panda" — so very pretty, but it only came up two springs and hasn't been seen since. . . perhaps it will surprise some future gardener here. 😉 C. lutea, with its lacy foliage and dainty yellow flowers cheers me through most of the season although I haven't spotted its blooms yet.
What lovely photos! And certainly a garden worthy of missing. Still, I detect a shift in tone in this post, more of an embracing of the changes that are on the horizon. In any case, I hope you are feeling more at piece. It is a lot to wrap one's head around, for sure!
In a previous post you mentioned focusing more on your language studies. I'm on Duolingo too — I've let my practice slide lately but I'm selkie43 over there if you fancy a little external motivation/friendly competition. 😉
You're perceptive, Sarah. I do feel as if I've turned a corner, and I'm more focused on potential new adventures now, almost impatient to get going rather than mourning what's being left behind. After all, we've chosen to make this move for a variety of positive reasons.
I've said Hello (or, rather, Bonjour to you on Duolingo), so we can climb that language tree in company.
Lovely photos, celebrating the new, and the promise. There is a sense of anticipation here, and of savoring and letting go. It sounds like the two of you are making the most of your day out, celebrating the adventure that is to come. Hold on to those good feelings…
Even though we were selling over a summer, it anyways seemed to be raining when we had to leave the house for viewings!