Ann Mackay: Inspired by Nature

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The star-like flowers of Camassia leichtlinii are a captivating sight in spring. The shape of the individual flowers is elegant and attractive, but it’s the colouring that really appeals to me. The violet and blue of the petals is my favourite combination of colours, so of course I love them!

This particular cultivar is ‘Caerulea’, probably the most easily available one, and frequently available as packs of bulbs in garden centres. There are cultivars in pink and white too, but while I might try to find a space to grow a few of the white ones, it’s most likely to be the lovely blue that I add to in future.

I didn’t expect great success from the camassia bulbs, because they’re said to prefer a reasonably moist soil (but well-enough drained to prevent the bulbs from rotting). However, they have increased well, probably because I have kept them well-watered while they’re growing and they don’t seem to mind drought once the foliage has died down in summer. From the original pack of three bulbs planted in this patch a couple of years ago, there are this year 21 flower stems. So it appears that there must now be a few offsets big enough to produce flowers. (I always deadhead to allow the plants to put more of their energies into the bulbs.)

It has been interesting to see that most of the websites that sell camassia bulbs in the UK say they flower from May to June. Here they have always flowered earlier than that and I see that most of my camassia photographs date from the third week of April. This year they were in flower early in April and are already going over. I wonder if this is part of the effects of global warming. (Our last few springs have been very warm.) It’s a little sad to see, because the extra heat we are getting seems to make the flowers go over more quickly. I’d love to have these beautiful flowers around for just a bit longer!

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I’ve seen the usual white form of Anemone nemerosa, the wood anemone, both in the wild and in gardens. However, I didn’t know that there were cultivated forms of this pretty wildflower until I came across this delightful blue-flowered plant in a woodland garden.

Anemone nemorosa is a native wildflower in the UK. The white-flowered plants of the species can be found in woodlands around the country in early spring.

This cultivar is, I think, either Anemone nemorosa ‘Alenii’ or ‘Robinsoniana’, both with lavender-blue flowers and attractive deeply-cut foliage. There are other blue-flowered cultivars, including the similarly-coloured ‘Lismore Blue’ and ‘Hannah Gubbay’, which both have large flowers. There is also the darker-coloured ‘Royal Blue’. (If my garden offered the right conditions, there would be plenty to choose from!)

As a woodland plant, Anemone nemorosa prefers a site in dappled shade, in humusy soil that is well-drained but moist and cool. These are far from the conditions in my own very sunny garden, so I’ll be happy to just enjoy them in other people’s gardens. Or if I am lucky, perhaps I’ll see the white ones in the wild again.

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Every year I wait to see which tulips will come up again in my garden borders. Sometimes there are just one or two survivors from a pack of bulbs planted a few years before. (It’s a while since I’ve planted any new bulbs because there are too many changes being made to be sure of leaving them undisturbed.)

Sadly, there are fewer of the ‘Spring Green’ tulips this year (above). I love the colouring of these because it feels so fresh and subtle, so I will try more of them once things in the garden are a bit more settled.

The flower here looks quite yellowish, but that is a little misleading. The yellow is partly because the flower is newly-opened and it fades towards white as the flower matures. (In a photograph, sometimes a hint of yellow or blue can be added by the colour of the light…that is something that varies with the time of day and the season.)

I’m less keen on the colouring of the tulip below. It’s not what it was supposed to be! I’d ordered a pack of tulips in pink and crimson shades but somehow they turned out to be a mix of red and yellow. Unfortunately they really don’t suit the other colours of the border they’re in, so I may try to move them elsewhere (or I could just cut them for the house). Never mind, at least they can be used for photography! And now I am waiting for the parrot tulips to open…

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These pasqueflowers (Pulsatilla vulgaris ‘Alba’) are at their best…freshly-opened and unmarked. Their white flowers have a gleaming purity that makes them stand out against the lush greens of young foliage. When I saw them, it felt as if they were just waiting for me to photograph them.

Every spring I photograph the purple pasqueflowers that grow in my garden but I often fail to photograph the white ones quickly enough. (I have just a couple of small plants, so, as yet, not many flowers.) At this time of year I’m always kept busy by the work the garden needs, and by the time I spot some of these graceful flowers, they’re often just going past their best.

The white pasqueflowers seem to deteriorate more quickly than the purple ones and it doesn’t take much to mar their beauty. Browning petal tips as they age and begin to dry out would mean that I have left it too late to do the flowers justice. But this spring I have caught these at just the right time. (However, I haven’t photographed any purple pasqueflowers yet, so I’d better get out there with my camera!) Spring is a time when there are new flowers appearing rapidly, but wind and rain, and even strong sunshine, can make their beauty quite fleeting.

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There’s no shortage of flower colour in spring but I think that the bright yellow of the more traditional-looking daffodils is the colour we associate most with the season. I have some of these daffodils here. They’re a reminder of the masses of golden daffodils in my parents’ garden and a cheerful sight to greet warmer days.

At this time of year, there are many yellow flowers around. They range in colour from the palest hints of yellow to a robust gleaming shade that demands attention. I particularly like the subtlety of some of the paler yellows. These can be found in daffodil varieties such as ‘Ice Follies’ (above). This one has a pale yellow trumpet surrounded by white outer petals and I have it planted alongside the delicate, creamy-coloured ‘Thalia’ in an airy combination that shimmers in low-angled spring sunlight.

Narcissus bulbocodium known as the ‘hoop petticoat daffodil’ (above) is a delightful plant and one that I’d like to grow. The flowers are only six inches high, so I might be best to plant it in a pot rather than the ground, so that it isn’t overrun by its neighbours.

A similar very pale yellow is seen in the primrose (Primula vulgaris). This is the wild primrose that that I remember as a common sight along roadside verges in my childhood. (Probably less common now.) I’m sad to see that mine have suffered in the very hot and dry summer of last year (and after losing the shade of a nearby tree), so this year the plants have fewer flowers. Clearly I need to take care to give them more water during periods of drought.

The dog’s tooth violet (Erythronium ‘Pagoda’) that you see above is one of the darker yellows in my garden. I enjoy the sight of the curving petals and the slightly Oriental-looking glamour of these little beauties. So far they have managed to survive in an area that probably gets more sun than they like. When I plant more, I’ll make sure to put them in a shadier spot.

Later in the spring, the neighbours’ laburnum tree will create a spectacular display right by our driveway, so we will have some fabulous ‘borrowed’ colour in May. Before then, there should be some very bright yellow from our ‘Golden Apeldoorn’ tulips. These and some red Darwin hybrid tulips were already in the garden when we came, and have flowered reliably in all the years since. They’re a glorious sight when they open up wide on a sunny day…which seems like a good reason to plant some more.

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Last week I mentioned that hellebores flower through winter and early spring. Another flower that appears during the same period is Cyclamen coum, which produces its pink or white flowers from December to March. These tiny, delicate-looking flowers with their upswept petals bring a touch of colour to the greyest months.

Although the flowers may appear fragile, Cyclamen coum is thoroughly hardy, coping with temperatures down to minus 10°C. It likes a well-drained soil with plenty of humus and a little shelter. The leaves die back later in spring, reappearing in autumn, and it grows well in partial shade. This makes it a good plant for areas around trees and shrubs.

I have the autumn-flowering Cyclamen hederifolium growing here. The flowers are larger and manage to compete with the planting around them. Seeing how much smaller the flowers of C. coum are in comparison, made me feel that they would be somewhat lost in my garden (even more so where I leave the dead remains of the summer’s growth to shelter hibernating insects). Now though, I see that they can make quite an impact, especially where they manage to spread and create a mass of bright colour. There may be some Cyclamen coum corms on my shopping list for autumn!

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Flowering from winter days right into mid-spring, hellebores are a lovely companion as I look for the signs of the re-emergence and renewal of life in the garden. For me, hellebores make the time of waiting for spring brighter and happier. Their flowers are with us from the coldest time of the year. They last through that subtle shift away from winter, accompanying us until the warmth and longer daylight of spring has created a rush of fresh growth and bright, new colours.

On a recent visit to Fullers Mill Garden, I took the opportunity to photograph some of their many hellebores. To do so, I had to find flowers that were slightly upturned rather than facing downward. Then I had to wait for the breeze to die away…so there was a fair bit of patience and sheer luck involved! (You see the results here.)

In my own garden, I have planted several newer cultivars. These have more upward-facing flowers than the older hellebores. Apart from making them more visible, this makes them much easier to photograph. (And I can’t resist photographing them, so they’re also likely to make an appearance on this blog soon.)

Winter is, thankfully, on its way out. Spring is slowly taking over and we have had a few days of sunshine at last. After such a wet couple of months, the gradual change to warmer weather is more than welcome. I’m glad to have had the company of hellebores throughout this time.