Splendid spring sunshine is on the forecast, but even last weekend, temperatures just moving into the low ‘teens, I got into the garden and couldn’t help responding to the colour, fragrance, and sheer energy of the growth pulsating around me. Birdsong everywhere and obliging insects buzzing already, ready to shift pollen where it needs to go. . . .
Above, a bevy of pinks — the indigenous salmonberry offers a rather bland berry, but its flower (upper left) is a simple delight. Interesting how close its colour is to that of the ribes sanguineum (red-flowering currant), also indigenous, here long before we were and pictured above top right and bottom left. On the right the mauvey-er pink of the somewhat scrubby Daphne mezereum. Its scrubby appearance is happily tolerated not only for the perfect of the flower’s colour but for the marvellous perfume it shares generously. . . .
Below, you see its scrubbiness, but perhaps you can also glimpse the combination that pleased me of that buttery yellow, blooming in the species tulips below, framed by the mauve, accented by the rich bluey-green of the surrounding foliage. I don’t think I planned this particular conjunction, but its serendipity pleases me mightily.
As does the combination below, which I deliberately nurtured, nudging the starry-eyed blue of the brunnera macrophylla (false forget-me-not) closer to the acid-green bracts of the Euphorbia (amygaloides? var. robbiae — I probably have this name written in notes somewhere or other). Until this spring, when I got this:
Which pleases me mightily every time I walk past, and will for a few more weeks. And then the combination will be gone again until next year. A wee lesson in savouring the moment. . . .
As is this little corydalis which I’d completely forgotten about. Unlike its yellow-flowered cousin which has started blooming already and won’t stop until early October, this purple daintiness, backed by the laciest of leaves, will disappear completely, foliage, flowers, the entire herbaceous mass, under the soil once the weather heats up. And if I’m not out prowling the garden at just the right time, some years I miss it entirely.
I think it’s Corydalis solida, perhaps Purple Beauty . . .
Whatever its handle, I was charmed to re-discover it last weekend.
Other dainty flowers I was pleased to say hello to included these sweet little epimedium flowers (top left) that you really need to get down on the ground to appreciate. The woodland anemone (top right, shyly nodding in purple) and the hellebore (bottom left also tend to direct their blooms downward, but the congenial tulips open right up in the sunshine.
And that concludes today’s garden tour. I must warn you, however, that there may be more garden posts coming. It’s such a seductive place to be these days. . . .
I love your pictures, and I admire your knowledge. I don't think I could give the Latin name of every flower in my garden. But I share the feeling of pleased surprise when you walk around in springtime and find a new plant poking out and unfolding its flowers every day.
To my regret, I have to be content with my "weekend garden" this year, the one behind my house having been seized by my landlord and running to seed before my eyes… But that's a different story.
I'm looking forward to more posts about your small and big discoveries.
Some of the Latin names are taking a while to come to me, as I'm doing so much less gardening these days, but luckily somewhere I've got the invoices or the tags that came with them.
Too, too bad about your dog-in-the-manger landlord. I suppose at least that makes it more likely you'll find pleasant surprises in your weekend garden when you get there after the week away. . .
Tickled pink for you…but also green with envy. Sorry…couldn't resist the colourful puns. We're obviously not there yet, although the ice is breaking up and the river is carrying large sheets swiftly past our windows. So funny to see a bunch of geese today getting a ride down river! Tonight we'll sit with our wine and take part our yearly pastime of watching the ice flow by. (I can't seem to figure out how to NOT end that sentence with a preposition!)
Yes, our springs are so very different. Yours will be a time-lapse miracle, if it's anything like what I used to observe when visiting Ottawa. Tulips seemed to emerge from the ground and grow to blossom within little more than a week! While your waiting for that, though, pretty cool (ha!) to watch the ice break up. (honestly, I think that preposition rule needs to be taken with a huge grain of salt — it's more stylistic than anything else, no?)
I love your garden posts. And I love plants that you have to watch closely for their brief moment of flowering glory – it's so exciting when you 'catch' them. I have this funny little plant (name lost long ago) that dies back almost completely, then pops up with tiny white bell-shaped flowers that you can only see if you're looking for them. It makes me happy every spring! We're going into autumn now (still no cool weather) so most of my plants are very dull, although my hellebores are thriving and my autumn-fruiting raspberries have FINALLY set some fruit … It's been raining every time I've had a spare 5 minutes recently, so I'm dying to get some time out in the garden soon.
I love the sound of that little flower and the recurring ritual of discovering it, smiling. . . .My hellebores are always winter, early spring flowering, as I think most are here (now I'll have to do a bit of research). . . interesting. Very envious of your raspberries. I stopped maintaining mine quite a few years ago and keep meaning to get back to it. They're probably beyond rescue by now.
Sigh. Such beautiful garden photos, capturing those special moments of bloom. More garden posts are always welcome.
Thanks, Mardel. I do sometimes worry that the repetition might be tiresome to readers — I never find it so myself, even if the blooms might be the same, superficially, from year to year, they have an aura of wonder for me.
I love the very delicate flowers of spring and you have many! How odd to think that I am growing very much the same plants so many miles away. Love the way blogs make these connections.
It is odd to have that connection over such a huge distance. I remember in elementary school way, way back, learning that most of the UK shared our Climate classification: West Coast Marine Temperate. If I'm remembering at all correctly, that and our Anglo-heritage here might explain the garden patterns, if not shared indigenous plants. . . . I hope someday I might get to see your wonderful garden. Meanwhile, I love following its development on your blog.
Enchanting delicacy and such variety. Beautifully photographed and described, too. A pleasure to read here, where the vestiges of a particularly harsh winter linger.
Thank you! Sounds as if spring might be creeping your way finally . . . and then it just explodes, no?