Into the Greening...

Spring is here in the GWN! Never mind that it has snowed ONCE A WEEK this month. No matter, it doesn't stay, and besides, my garden just ignores the snow and grows anyway. If it can be so calm and single-minded, so can I. I consider this my version of out-staring old man winter -- he'll flinch first.

My greatest champion in staring down winter is my rhubarb. This was here when we moved here; a lone sign of life in a sea of ugly gravel. Despite what the experts say, we've moved it three times and it just keeps coming back brighter than ever. I made rhubarb crisp with it last year and it was divine. So, I'm sure you can imagine how happy I was to see my old friend return. (My son holds my hand and drags me each day to "check on the rhubarb!" I love this!)

 

This striped squill is my very first flower of the year -- and it is not even mine! Really. It is a volunteer that made its way to the side of our house. I think this is the third year it has shown up, much to my delight. I think it is absolutely charming.

 

The next brave soul is the columbine, aquilegia 'Beidermeier.' As I had secretly hoped, it has begun self seeding. I simply cannot get enough of the cool pastels of this intricate and elegant plant. It lines the path leading into the garden and lends a lovely woodland feel to the path. Welcome back, lovely lady!

 

The next eager starter is the clematis, macropetala 'Lagoon.' It is a sweet blue clematis that is practically maintenance-free. It grows on old growth and likes to get out there early and let the world know that there is a reason to stop and stare. Deceptively delicate looking, it is proving once again - now in its third year - that it is one tough cookie. My kinda vine.

 

Don't these peppery looking little flowers delight? They are not ones that we normally get to see close-up because they are usually so far above us. They are the flower of the tree, Ulmus Americana 'Brandon.' Generally referred to as the American elm, it is a stately vase-shaped tree found on boulevards across North America. Sadly, it has been decimated in many regions by Dutch Elm Disease, carried by a small beetle. Here in Alberta, we claim to be Dutch Elm Disease-free. I think there have been one or two cases reported; however, the province has a rigorous program in place to stop the disease, that so far seems to be working. I am taking it on faith that they will continue to be diligent, and so added this very favourite tree to my garden. I have the room for it and absolutely love them. In a few years these tiny, frothy flowers will be too high for me to see so I'll enjoy their proximity now.

  

Looking down, I see the patches of Lamium Maculatum 'White Nancy' are springing back to life. I put several of these in last year late in the season. I had this particular lamium in my previous garden and love the way it glows with a silvery light in the shade and in the evenings. The small white flowers look like pearls to me. I understand that some lamiums are thugs in certain conditions; however, White Nancy is a tidy and well-behaved ground cover here and blends beautifully with other shade-loving foliage. Welcome back, silver sister!

 

Another hardworking and under-appreciated beauty of the dappled light garden is Lady's Mantle, Alchemilla mollis. This beauty is one of the first to show up for the party and keeps her good looks all summer. You can't beat the silver beads of dew that grace her foliage in the morning and add sparkle to the garden. I put in several of these last year as well, and plan to add more this year as an edging plant.

  

An evergreen shrub I've always coveted is the Taunton's Yew, Taxus x media 'Tauntonii.' It has a graceful low form and soft, arching branches. I was delighted to see it came through its first winter without any burn or dieback. Most impressive. I may be adding more of these pretties as well.

 

And finally (I could go on as there is more coming up!), I will end with the Rosa rugosa 'Schneezwerg.' The snow dwarf is a sweet, simple white rose that blooms and blooms. I was very impressed with it last summer as the three of them were never without blooms. As a rugosa, it is a tough rose, but small, tidy and shapely. I look foward to seeing them fill in a little more this year.

  

I know this is my longest post in ages, but think of it as me exhaling after a long winter. Ahhhhh....I have plants growing! These are the days when you just can't wait to get out to the garden as soon as you race home to see what has grown while you were out. Um, can you tell I am thrilled? :)

I hope you are all enjoying the magic of spring, wherever your gardens may be. I'll be visiting your blogs as I can this week to check out spring as she is making her magic across the continents. Yay!

What is your wish?

Is it for the first sweet flowers? To see the leaves unfurl? Or, like me, for the snow to be really, truly, finally gone? (Yes, I know, that will never happen in the GWN!)

We are all dreaming this time of year, living just a little bit ahead of ourselves, in hope, in expectation, and with a creeping joy.

As you may have surmised, by my last post, I was in a place where spring presided, the capital of flowers in Canada, Victoria, British Columbia. While it was still early days there, the cherry trees were blooming, the bulbs were opening and the leaves were unfurling. Outside our window, we awoke to the chorus of birds in the mornings. I soaked up every second of it.

I took this photo on a rainy day in the Japanese garden at the Butchart Gardens. (Glorious day!) I think the very soul of spring has a green and gold home in that garden that anchors all that is soft breezes and dappled light to our continent.

Just a side note: I took this photo on the day the government announced they were ending production of the penny. I didn't hear the news until later that day. While that was probably a very practical decision, I, for one, will miss the penny. So, go ahead, come to this photo and make a wish whenever you like. Wishing and dreaming are always welcome here. :)

Oh, and here is my new favourite quote about wishing:

“When you love someone, all your saved-up wishes start coming out.”
~ Elizabeth Bowen

May all your wishes come true!! 

Wordless Wednesday - Somewhere, Not Here

Do you hear what I hear?

 This has been a luxurious, soft winter (except for one frigid week that, fingers crossed, didn't do my garden in). I have spent a lot of time on the trails in and around my beloved ravine that borders my neighbourhood. I usually have my phone with me, so I've been taking some pics with it. (The quality isn't great but I do have fun playing with them in the various apps that allow me to texturize them and add effects). Today was an exceptional day to be out and about so I did it twice. Once very early in the morning and once in the afternoon while the gorgeous men in my house napped. :)

The wildlife have been loving life this winter, too. I have seen deer, rabbits, weasels (pure white with a black-tipped tail!), squirrels and some overwintering birds that should be long gone. I've been walking, running, meandering, and just plain enjoying every minute of it. After last winter (think Mordor bleak) we deserve every minute of this wonderful year.

My favourite thing is the birds. Go figure. Normally, I like to get onto the secondary paths, the deer trails if you will, where it is quiet and I can listen to the birds chatter with each other and check me out. Chickadees have absolutely no shame, you know.

Today, however, I didn't have to go looking for the birds. Early this morning, great clouds of Bohemian Waxwings descended on my neighbourhood and into the ravine, where they reeled and rose and fell enmasse all day. I couldn't stay away. At times, I had clouds of them move past me so low that I could feel the vibration of their wings thrumming. It made me laugh. I remembered my final exam in an anthropology class, Preliterate Religions, where I had to write my own religion. I remember that my religion was very pantheistic. While that may have been a very simplistic approach, I still do feel a deep connection to joy and a sense of transcendence when I am awed by nature. I think that is why I want to go sea kayaking in the Queen Charlottes before I die. ANYWAY, I was awed today. I went down one of my favourite deer paths to settle in on a fallen tree and listen to the hub bub all around me. The jays were out of sorts, the ravens had to have a *talk*, the chickadees were having a great tweet-up, and a Coopers hawk flew silently by at shoulder height through the trees about 15 feet from me. The Bohemians were causing quite a stir.

I know it's still winter and spring is further away than it feels, but, dammit Jim, it felt like the world was alive today. Can a girl fall in love with a small bit of urban forest? Hope so, because I think I swooned a little today. In fact, I was speechless.

EDIT: Here is the link to a herky-jerky video I took with my phone. If you turn it up you can hear the amazing sound filling the sky.

“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.” ― Robert Lynd
 


EDIT: Feb. 5: HBG, this pic is for you. It is an awful photo, taken with my phone, of the weasel peeking out of one of the many "doors" of the burrow he ran to. He was fascinated by me. I was a little scared of him actually because I had one chase me, then charge me again, as I was crossing a bridge in the ravine last summer. My ankles felt conspicuously bare as he ran towards me. :)

Weasel in the winter when there was no snow to hide

A Year in a Northern Garden

For love, for love, we toil.  

Our gardens are a curious mix of labour and art. And let's not forget the dreaming. It all starts with the dreaming. While our gardening styles may differ wildly, as do the conditions under which we toil, we are all creatures consumed by imagination. I like that. That is our art. The labour is our act of creation.

Looking back over the past year, it's interesting to see just how our gardens grew. And grow they did. You probably worked harder than you realized even if you didn't work as hard as you planned. Did your heart break just a little bit now and then? Were you thrilled and surprised on occasion? Good.

Inspired by Laurrie's month by month look back at her tumultuous year in the garden, I decided to reflect on my own garden by the season.

Like much of this continent, at least, it was a strange year for weather. Our spring arrived very late, and when it did it was wet. We really needed the moisture but it pushed back the arrivals so far that spring and summer stumbled over each other in the mud. I suffered a few losses over the winter but nothing calamitous. My double flowering plum (Prunus triloba ‘Multiplex’) had its best year ever. Our tree, Goldrush Amur Cherry (Prunus maackii ‘Jefree’), planted the fall before, came through with flying colours and dazzled us with its copper bark, fluffy white pom-poms and elegant shape. Spring was a time of waiting for us, for we had plans...

The wet spring led to a wet summer and pushed our plans back to July. But the big day finally happened, the planting of the bones of our back garden. After three years of taking out the gravel, scraping away eight inches of clay, bringing in topsoil, removing stumps and grinding out an old gnarly hedge, removing dead trees, building a fence, adding sod and doing the hardscaping we finally (!) got to the fun part, the plants! We put in more trees, shrubs (assorted roses, hydrangeas, spireas, ninebarks, mock oranges and yews, among others) and the key perennials (hostas, rose daphne, daylilies, heucheras, ferns, lamiums, bugbane and more). The garden looks much fuller, but there are miles to go before I sleep. :) I had hoped to put in more perennials nearer the end of summer (and then bulbs!), and maybe even tackle other areas of the property but I ran out of time and steam. *sigh* But that's why we get back to it the next year, right?

When we returned from holidays in late August the sun had found us and the garden was glorious, just in time for autumn...

Our autumn was absolutely gorgeous. AND it lasted. The garden, and the woods, had an opportunity to develop stunning colour. My hydrangeas were the stars in the back as their great dancing blooms turned rosy and carried the day. In the front potted mums and a collection of pumpkins provided the intense colour this season calls for.

The light was a rich, golden honey and the days felt luminous. Halloween came in trailing the last vestiges of gold and red, then November settled in with sombre greys and bark browns. The walking weather remained and I started to incorporate some running into my walking routine. Much to my surprise I've kept it up. The sun began to retreat south, reluctantly sending us slanting rays, as an afterthought, really, and soon our mornings and evenings darkened and Christmas lights went up on the houses. Winter was coming...

December is a very dark month here. Unless I get outside at noon hour, I don't see daylight during the work week. Right now, we get just over seven hours of daylight each day. This contrasts with the summer solstice where we get 17 hours. The mild weather continues and there is only the lightest dusting of snow. I'm enjoying the shapes of my newly full garden. I've filled the front pots with festive greenery and branches. The dry weather has meant lots of clear nights, providing the opportunity to enjoy the first hours of the lunar eclipse. Deer and rabbits are happy. Christmas was the best yet. My young son was over the moon. My favourite gift? The necklace on the right side of the mosaic. The charms are based on old wax seal patterns. I love the one with the tree. My husband knows me well.

And now we close the year. I hope you weathered the storms (or droughts!) and found beauty in your creations. The seed catalogues are arriving and gardeners dreams are stirring. I am thinking perennials and what I want to see happen in other areas of the garden. Scary as it may be, I am even thinking of changing some of the garden we have created in the last three years (Don't tell my husband!). :)

As you dream, I wish you all the best in the New Year for your gardens, and for you. Gardeners are full of hope, that is implicit in the act of planting. And you know, hopeful people create the future. I like that too.

Remember...

"A garden is never so good as it will be next year." ~ Thomas Cooper

Welcome to 2012!