Glowing gold Tuesday, Jun 3 2014 

I like iris, though their extravagant size makes June weather a hazard, like peonies they do poorly in fast moving, hard hitting thunderstorms.  They were clearly bred for the British Isles and the Low Countries, where thunderstorms make the news when they happen.

We don’t have that many at the moment (it is all relative!).

The earliest bearded iris have just started: the huge gold ones. They came originally from Vermont or possibly from Boston. (it is fun to have plants with histories behind them)  Light, soft gold, and a good four/five inches in size, they glow in the sun and moonlight. There is no harshness in their color at all, which is entirely different from the canary gold of yellow flag. Our neighbours have a patch we left at the East Meadow. I saw it yesterday, even from a long way away it glowed.  We have a few in the Flagpole garden and in the south lawn area, given the right space with enough sun they are a fairly aggressive iris, willing to spread.  But they do need sun.  They are nicely complemented by an early deep blue iris, which is also just starting up in the Flagpole garden.  That garden also has big red poppies in it, or will in a week, so it is wonderfully extravagant in size and color.

They are not well complemented by one of the smaller types or iris: the heirloom yellow (with a touch of orange) with chestnut falls, once found in nearly every New England garden, it is a bit rare these days, we got ours from a friend in Maine.  How, and why, that one popped up in the Flagpole garden I am not sure.  It is Supposed to be blooming under the roses near the fish pond, where its smaller stature is just right.  I clearly will have to move it.  I know why it popped up, it was released from the Shasta daisies in the digging this spring.

The bronze iris (a gift from a friend here) will be starting in a few days as well.  They are doing very well this year, which is wonderful since we almost lost them two years ago to corn borers.

Now if we could just figure out the best spot for another bit of Sun garden….. 🙂

 

Scent Memory Sunday, Jun 1 2014 

Scent is usually considered to be one of the most powerful of our senses, perhaps because we don’t pay too much attention to it as odd as that seems.

In my opinion, a garden should be full of scents: the faint fine chocolate fragrance of a ‘Mayleen’ clematis (it really is just like a really high quality piece of white chocolate), the indescribably rich scent of an American Fringe-tree (Chionanthus virginicus) which always blooms the first week in June*, the strawberry/mango scent of the aptly named Strawberry bush, the faint floral perfume of Dame’s Rocket, the pine-tar of geraniums, iris, roses, the list goes on.  Even the vegetable garden, the pepper scent of a rocket (arugula) plant one accidentally stepped, the onions, the mints.

An evening stroll is truly a feast.

*Perhaps the most underused native plant, in full bloom it is an amazing curtain of white ivory.  Very long lived, a good clear gold in the fall, remarkably free of pests, and absolutely regular in blooming without any fussing.

Identified! Sunday, May 25 2014 

Years ago, we snagged a bit of a creeping, smooth ivy with elegant little purple orchid-like flowers from a wall at Castle Campbell, Scotland. (We brought it back here, Yes I know one is Not supposed to do that, Bad, bad, very bad)  Sadly, it died since we didn’t plant it in a wall but in a nice bit of soil.

Then we found it again, growing with exceeding abandon at Innisfree Gardens in New York. So we misbehaved again and tucked a little bit into the steps by the west kitchen door, nice old crumbling stone steps.  It made it, quite happily, through the winter and is now growing and blooming, and looks like it will have to be trimmed off the various sedums in the area.  Not a particular problem, I already trim the thyme and such.

Any guesses?

It is this guy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cymbalaria_muralis  also known as Kenilworth Ivy or Ivy Leaved Toadflax

Will it probably be excessively happy? Probably. But much less of an issue than Gill-over-the-ground, which makes up most of the lawn here; since the toadflax has already shown that it doesn’t care to compete in the lawn (this year’s growing shoots are actively turning away from the grass and heading back over the stones), unlike Gill-over-the-ground.

Sports Saturday, May 24 2014 

In an area with enough space for volunteers to occur, sports are almost inevitable.  The majority of seedlings, whether trees or perennials, are utterly expected.  For example, the majority of Japanese Maple seedlings here take after the big maple: maroon leaves with a relatively coarse outline.  The occasional green seedling occurs, perhaps one in a thousand.  The cut leaf seedling is rarer, perhaps one in ten thousand, and doesn’t seem to have much in the way of vitality.  Which explains the price of cut leaf Japanese Maples rather neatly.

Perennials are even less likely to have sports.  We do have one at the moment though and I ought to figure out how to mark it.  I am not a fan of variegated foliage (outside hostas and pulmonarias, and the odd yucca or iris), I find it deeply suspicious.  Especially in trees.  Though I will admit the variegated Pagoda dogwood looks like it might be a nice addition.  Still, I have my suspicions.

Consequently, two years ago when it first showed up, I eyed the variegated heart leaved wood aster with great trepidation.  It didn’t appear last year (or I didn’t see it).  This year it is up to about five stems.  It is rather pretty, the streaking is a pleasant marled pattern of ivory on green with no deformity of the leaves.

I ought to mark its location.  The thing is we probably have a solid acre plus of wood aster (if you lumped it all together) so five stems….well the odds are rather poor.  And the location is prone to vigorous weeding/poison ivy spraying by yours truly.  But all those plants out there in the trade…for the most part, it is accident, chance, that created them. It is sort of neat to see it happen in one’s own garden.

Hurrying Spring Friday, May 23 2014 

It is an odd year, so cold for so long.  Now Spring is clearly hurrying towards Summer, in some respects. The peas and lettuce are sulking, but the currants have already set berries; the Sugar Maples are fully out, but the locusts still stand gaunt against the sky. The ground is still cool, but already great thunderstorms have swept across the hills.

Spring though is always hurrying, rushing forward.  Not only there is a great deal to get accomplished, and a very short optimum window to do it all in; but the plants are growing and growing fast.  In some cases, inches to the day.  The perennials just refill their space (which one has sometimes forgotten the dimensions of), but the trees….  The young American Beech has put on nearly a foot of growth, to all sides and up, this year.  Even mature trees are suddenly bigger.  And of course, they are bigger, all those leaves and all those cells swollen with water.

The color changes as well.  The kitchen had a brief pink cast for awhile as the redbud bloomed, now it is green to the west with the apple tree, and a red/purple/green tint from the east where the Japanese Maple is suddenly flush with new growth.  The back roads are green tunnels and the meadows are tall with grass.

What is Esperanza? Wednesday, May 21 2014 

People ask that, sometimes silently.

Picture this then, a clear May evening, the fragrance of lilacs and viburnums, watching the sun sink over the western hills and the emerald field, the pure white violets and apple blossoms, the glowing pink, purples and golds of myriad redbuds, azaleas, tulips, and a host of others. and faintly on the sweet breeze the notes of Chopin’s nocturnes.

Or perhaps it is early morning, beneath the towering spruces, oaks, and maples where the white trillium shimmers, the pure white of living marble and the vinca forms a dark green carpet studded by ferns.

Next month will be something different and the one after that.

But always, the house, quiet and cool, with its books and unknown corners.

That is Esperanza.

Virginia Bluebells Sunday, May 18 2014 

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A wildly underused native flower, mertensia virginica, otherwise known as Virginia Bluebells.

This plant likes shady, moist woodlands.  It flowers in the early spring and goes dormant in the summer.  Its big green leaves look a bit like fuzzy lettuce (though when they come up the buds are almost purple/black).  Its flowers…well you can see.  They start as pink buds, but when fully open are a lovely blue.  They are similar in this sense to some of the pulmonarias or lungworts, but without the purple tones to the colors. It is about 12-18 inches tall with an arching, soft habit.

We have one plant, hopefully we can get it to spread and/or divide it.

Highly recommended…if you can find it.

Un, deux, trois Saturday, May 17 2014 

Three little redbuds all in a row, well not so little….  And not in a row either, though the two volunteers are; the parent is just off the left of the screen. It sprawls a good forty feet these days and is up to three support posts, two of which you can see there.  The second redbud is directly in the center of the photograph; the third redbud is the one just next to the white bench on the far right.  The maroon beyond is a volunteer Japanese Maple, whose parent is the trunk looming on the left.  We do volunteers around here!

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Purple Iris Friday, May 16 2014 

A difficult color to work with as it can look too dark and funereal, additionally, the plants are short, no more than 8 inches, so they can look a little odd in the wrong spot; but the structural effects of the leaves are fun! The purple, silver, green with sharp edges has a definite impact in the right spot…now if we could Just Find that spot!

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Hard Winter Wednesday, May 14 2014 

We don’t lose plants to winter all that often.  Well, I ought to say that we don’t lose shrubs and trees to winter that often, perennials are another matter.

This year, one juniper (go figure) is on life support, the hydrangeas only just made it, still not sure about the smoke bush on the tennis court, the roses…well…., they are All alive but beyond that.  The oddest one is a clematis.  Most of them are actually very happy, really happy in fact, including the one that shouldn’t be hardy here.  However, the volunteer fall clematis which grew like mad last year was killed down to six inches above the ground.  The other fall clematis, not six feet away, is just fine.  As is the one in another garden.  The only thing I can figure is that it essentially outgrew itself last year.  Plants are very odd.

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