Oranges and Peaches (Colours, not fruit!)

The flowers of Geum 'Rijnstroom'
The semi-double flowers of Geum ‘Rijnstroom’

It’s a Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK and that means that we have an extra day off for a bit of garden visiting or wandering around nurseries in search of whatever new plants might take our fancy. (Dangerous to the wallet – Hubby and I can always find something!)

Up until recently, I haven’t thought of planting many orange or peach/apricot-coloured flowers in the garden. That’s because there’s a lot of lilac-pink in the existing borders, which looks great with other blue-ish pinks, or crimson, purple or blue flowers, but really wouldn’t look good with the more yellowy pinks or oranges.

Now, though, I have a new opportunity to play with some different colours. For the past couple of months, I’ve been digging out a pond and clearing out the area around it. Previously, there had been massive conifers just on the other side of the fence in the neighbours’ garden and these had gradually starved almost anything I tried to plant along that side of the garden. So when the new neighbours came and promptly had these trees removed, it was time to plan a new border.

Viburnum plicatum flowers
I like the peachy-pink flowers and copper-coloured leaves of this viburnum.

Visiting other people’s gardens is always enjoyable and intriguing, but becomes even more fun when you’re on the hunt for ideas and inspiration. (And it makes the ‘plants to buy’ list a lot longer!)

I saw the geum in the top photo while on a garden visit and decided that I’d like to grow it so that I could photograph it. (The swirly shape of the petals and the mottled yellow and orange colouring makes it a really appealing subject.) At first I thought it might be ‘Totally Tangerine’, but that, it turns out, is a single-flowered plant, while this one is ‘Rijnstroom’ and has semi-double flowers. By a lucky chance, I came across it in a nursery that we visited for the first time. Plant hunting is fun…but can be addictive too!

Another plant that caught my eye while I was garden-visiting is the viburnum above. While it wouldn’t have suited the lilac-pink areas, it could look good in the new border. Hmm, well, sadly I don’t think I’ll have space for many shrubs around the pond, so I’ll have to give that one a miss.

But that doesn’t mean that we’ve missed out on orange here. The clivia in the photo below lives in our conservatory and has been making it feel quite tropical recently! Now that is what I call a bold colour, hehe!

Clivia miniata flowers
The vibrant orange of this clivia has brightened up my conservatory in recent weeks.

Aquilegia: Eagles, Doves and Bonnets!

Pink Aquilegia vulgaris
The resemblance of the flower’s petals to doves with outstretched wings has given it the name ‘columbine’.

Aquilegias are popping up all over UK gardens at the moment and they are especially popular for informal and cottage gardens.

In this garden, and my previous garden in Scotland, I’ve had lots of aquilegias. Almost all have been the common Aquilegia vulgaris. They’ve interbred and self seeded all over the place and every year there have been surprises as new colours have appeared. (There have been new shapes  too, as double-flowered variants started to appear.)

Some years it has felt as if the aquilegias have almost taken over parts of the garden and they’ve filled it with delicate pinks, blues and dark purples. Having started with mostly pink or reddish-purple flowers, the blues seemed to arrive from nowhere. (A very welcome addition!) More recently, bi-coloured flowers started to appear – dark purple with white inner petals (similar to the strain ‘Magpie’) and red and pink mixtures.

The flower has a fair old variety of names too. ‘Aquilegia’ comes from the Latin for eagle, but there seems to be disagreement about whether it’s due to parts of the flower looking like an eagle’s talons, or because the petals look like wings. Personally, I think that the flowers look more like doves, so ‘columbine’ is a pretty good name for them. But then there’s the other common names – granny’s bonnet or granny’s nightcap – both of these suit the flower shape well too. So take your pick, the choice is yours! (Maybe you know the flower by an entirely different name…)

Aquilegia flowers
I wish these were in my garden – in the future maybe?

Whatever name you know this flower by, it makes a delightful subject to photograph. I love the graceful shapes created by the outstretched petals and the delicate (or sometimes quite bold) colours of the flowers.

Unfortunately, this year I don’t have as many aquilegias as I’ve had in previous years. Actually, as I’ve looked around, there seem to be very few now. I think that’s because there has been a lot of re-development of areas of the garden and many young plants have been lost during some serious weeding. And sometimes they will insist on getting themselves right up tight to weeds that have to come out – or else they unwisely entangle themselves with more precious plants and have to be removed.

(There is a disease – a new downy mildew of aquilegias – that has spread around the UK in recent years. However, I don’t think that’s likely because our climate is so dry. This mildew thrives in mild, damp conditions – you can read about it here .)

I will probably treat the aquilegia seedlings that do come up in the same way as I did the first ones that appeared in my previous garden. I was still very new to gardening then, and absolutely delighted that the aquilegias I’d planted had managed to self-sow around a border. I very carefully transplanted them into favourable positions and nurtured them as if they were something delicate – little did I know how easily they would spread themselves around the garden! Now, if I show them a little bit of that care again, perhaps I can build up a new population of aquilegias. Wish me luck!

Blue Aquilegia vulgaris (columbine)
Blue is one of the commoner columbine colours.

In Evening Light

Leaves of the smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria)
Leaves of the smoke bush (Cotinus coggygria) have a fiery glow in the last of the evening light.

After a busy day, getting out into the garden for a while is wonderfully calming and restorative. The garden can look its best in the evening light too, when the low-angled light creates long shadows and shows up the textures of the plants. Colours come alive in this light, especially where the sun passes through flowers and leaves. (Just like sun coming through a stained-glass window.)

If I can, I like to spend some time in the garden at this time of day. Maybe I’ll do a bit of weeding or simply sit for a while. What I prefer to do, though, is to take my camera for a wander around the garden.

Yellow broom (Cytisus) flowers
Yellow broom (Cytisus) flowers gleam in the sun.

Late in the day, the light is warmer and yellower. (More of the blue in the light is absorbed by the atmosphere when it’s at this low angle.) It warms and intensifies the colours of flowers. Quite ordinary looking flowers like the broom above become much more appealing photographic subjects when the strong side-lighting shines through their petals and makes them glow.

In the apple blossom photograph below, you can see that the evening light has an attractive warming effect on the petals of the flowers. This brings associations of pleasant evenings spent outside and can conjure up thoughts of the summer to come, or past memories of time in the garden. Just with the difference of the colour in the light, you can give a photograph a little suggestion of emotion and make it a bit more than a straightforward record of the flower.

Blossom on a Braeburn apple tree.
Blossom on our Braeburn apple tree.

Because evening light creates excellent side-lighting that picks out the texture in petals and leaves, it makes them appear more 3-D. (Like the rather crinkly surface of the apple blossom petals and the hairy calyx behind them.) The shapes of flowers and details such as the stamens are also highlighted and the whole flower can be ‘spotlit’ in a way that helps to bring it out from its background.

Early morning light has the same beautiful low-angle effects as evening light but there’s rarely time to take an unhurried stroll around the garden at that time of day. (Not here anyway – there’s cats to be fed, humans to be fed and other distractions!) And as the dawn becomes earlier and summer approaches, it’s less likely that I’ll be out of bed to catch that very early light. (But doesn’t it feel quite heavenly to be up really, really early, when no-one else is around but the birds, and you have the whole world to yourself? I love it if I can manage it! Sadly, that’s not very often.)

So evening time is, for me, a time I look forward to with anticipation on clear days. And when I’m gardening, I try to place plants that are especially colourful, or that have delicate structures, where the late sun can make the most of them. That smoke bush in the top photograph was planted where the setting sun could shine through its deep red leaves. It makes the shrub seem as if it’s alight. It’s amazing what a little bit of evening sunlight can do!

Camassia leichtlinii
This Camassia is in the last area to catch the sun and for a little while the colours become richer.

So Quickly Gone: Spring Blossom

Pink spring blossom
I think these flowers are probably from a crab apple tree.

I nearly wrote ‘Cherry Blossom’ in the title rather than ‘Spring Blossom’, but then I realised that I’m starting the post with flowers that aren’t cherry blossom. (Cherry tree flowers have a little slit at the tip of each petal, as you can see in the photograph below.)

What the blossom actually is, is something I can only make a guess at. Though I’m fairly sure I remember seeing tiny crab apples on the tree (which is on a green near my house). I do have a crab apple in my own garden, but it has far fewer and smaller flowers. The fruits that it produces look very attractive though – they’re a rich deep red and make up for the less impressive flowers.

Cherry blossom on tree
Early spring blossom – it flowered a couple of weeks ago and has gone now.

On the same green, which runs along the other side of the road just opposite us, there are several trees that blossom in the spring. I’m always happy to see the first flowers on the cherry trees there, and this year I made a point of photographing them. They flower earlier than the double-flowered cherry in my garden and they’re a joyful signal that spring has arrived. But they seem to disappear again so quickly! Now the trees that were covered in blossom just a few weeks ago have not a trace of blossom left.

Double-flowered cherry blossom
Candy-floss pink blossom from the tree in my garden.

While those trees have finished, others are just now in bloom. The cherry tree in my front garden flowers in the last week or two of April. When we moved into this house, the tree was in full flower and felt like a generous welcome to our new home. So seeing it back in flower every year is like a little celebration of the happy years we’ve lived here.

However, as soon as the tree has managed to come completely into flower, the wind is busy tearing the petals off. (Sometimes we’re lucky and the weather stays calm for longer.) This weekend has been a bit rough on the unfortunate little flowers with strong winds scattering their petals all over the grass. They look like giant pink snowflakes! I managed to bring some flowers inside to photograph before they got blown away but they won’t last long.

Perhaps its fragility and short-lived beauty is an important part of the attraction of spring blossom…I know I’ll enjoy seeing it again when it returns next year. And, as usual, I’ll try to photograph it before it escapes me!

Cherry blossom in a vase.
The flowers look lovely in a vase for a little while, but the petals will soon start to fall.

A Flower for Easter.

Purple pasqueflower (Pulsatilla vulgaris)
Jewel-bright colours of the purple Pasqueflower.

It’s Easter Sunday today, so I thought I’d post a photograph of a pasqueflower (Pulsatilla vulgaris). This flower gets its name because it flowers around Easter time, with ‘pasque’ being like ‘paschal’, i.e. ‘relating to Easter’. (But I haven’t figured out whether the name should be one word or two. Pasqueflower or pasque flower? Both seem to be used.)

The Easter holiday tends to be a really busy time in the garden. Everything has started to grow very fast so that any old dead growth needs to have been cleared away to allow it space. (I leave the old foliage on some plants over winter to help protect them against frost.) The weeds are growing quickly too, so the battle with them keeps me busy. It seems like an unlikely and very distant dream that I might someday have a fairly weed-free garden!

But it’s seed-sowing that becomes the biggest rush for me. I really shouldn’t leave it so late. Everything else always feels so urgent and this year I’ve taken extra time to dig a pond. (That is going quite well and I’m hoping to have it done before the ground dries out and becomes really difficult to dig.) Now I need to get those seeds all sown and hope that all the tiny seedlings will have time to catch up…or they can just flower a bit late if they like!

With all the frantic gardening, it would be easy to forget to enjoy the garden itself and the tremendously sunny and warm weather we’re having this weekend. So I will make a point of sitting down for a while and just enjoy the outdoor scene for a bit. (That’s if the cat will let me have my seat…he thinks I put it in a nice sunny spot just for him!)

Whatever you’re doing this weekend, whether you celebrate Easter (or even have a long weekend for that matter), I hope you get a chance to get outside and enjoy some sunshine and the natural world. Happy Easter!

 

Welcome to Spring

Scented 'Paperwhite' Daffodils
Scented ‘Paperwhite’ Daffodils

Daffodils…right now they are everywhere. This week we had the first ‘official’ day of spring with the arrival of the spring equinox. And right on cue, there are daffodils opening their cheerful flowers in a welcome to the new season.

Out in the country here, there are daffodils growing on the roadside verges outside houses and farms. In town, they’re at the start of garden paths or close to the front door. It feels as if everyone has some daffodils growing in a position where they’ll be both a welcome to anyone coming to their houses and a greeting to passers-by.

Daffodil 'Geranium'
Daffodil ‘Geranium’ has a lovely scent.

Outside my front garden there is a large ‘green’ – a wide area of grass with trees that stretches between the main road and the minor road that serves the houses here. In springtime, swathes of daffodils enliven this green, creating a colourful welcome for drivers coming into the town.

In our own front garden, we have a group of miniature daffodils growing in one of the borders, but most of our daffodils are in the back garden. Seeing so many daffodils by other people’s front doors makes me feel that I should grow some more by the front path next year, as a welcome to visitors and to ourselves when we return home. (Maybe a pot of  scented tazetta daffodils, such as ‘Geranium’ or ‘Paperwhite’ – they both have a delicious scent.)

'Ice Follies' daffodils
‘Ice Follies’ on the green outside my home.

A Little Survivor

Pink-freckled hellebore.
I thought I had lost this hellebore.

It’s the time of year when gardeners start peering anxiously at their plants, looking for signs of life. Are there new shoots emerging from the ground? Some leaf buds perhaps? Anything to show that the plant has made it through the winter?

But, as any gardener is unfortunately all too aware, it’s not just the winter that can kill our plants. There are all sorts of possible mishaps. Here, building work has been one of the biggest dangers to our garden plants in the last couple of years.

We’ve had several things done to our house, the main one being the addition of a conservatory. So there have been piles of building materials parked around the garden.

The resulting chaos was made worse by our decision to reclaim and re-use the brick pavers from the big old patio area where the conservatory was to be built. And, of course, they needed to be piled somewhere out of the way. Like the bit of border that has been overrun by a huge mass of Japanese anemones and is desperately in need of renovation…. and all before I could think to warn that there were other plants there too.

Pink-spotted hellebore flowers.
Last year there was only a single leaf on this hellebore – this year it has managed to flower.

To be honest, I’d forgotten precisely where the hellebore was and it wasn’t until I saw one lonely hellebore leaf poking out between a couple of bricks that I realised that it had pretty much been covered. The bricks were removed but I didn’t really expect the plant to survive. There seemed to be too little of it left. That made me feel both sad and guilty because it was such a lovely little plant and one that I had enjoyed photographing.

So you can imagine how surprised and delighted I was to discover that it was growing again and this year it has even managed to produce some flowers. (I feel as if it has forgiven me! And I’ve promised it that I’ll take better care of it in future!)

It’s extraordinary how strong the life force in plants can be and how they can often tolerate conditions that really should kill them. (I know, it’s true that the plants that you try to get rid of – the weeds – that seem show the most determined ability to survive.) Every so often you get a wonderful surprise when a plant that you fear has died reappears, when new buds grow on what look like dead stems, or when new seedlings spring up from old plants unexpectedly. That vitality can certainly be something to celebrate!

Pink hellebore flower.
The usual view of a shy hellebore flower.

Signs of Spring.

Yellow crocus 'Zwanenberg Bronze'
Yellow crocus ‘Zwanenberg Bronze’

The first crocuses are in flower and it feels as if spring is on its way. The sun grows brighter and stronger, the air is quite a few degrees warmer, and the daylight is lasting for longer. Winter, at last, is receding and it feels good to get outside and enjoy the re-emergence of life in the garden.

Winter can be a time when life runs at a bit of a low ebb. Most days are too cold and grey to wish to spend a lot of time outdoors and you really just want to keep warm and dry. (But, if there is a warmish winter day, with perhaps a little bit of sun, then I do try to get some gardening done. It raises my spirits and allows me to escape the incarceration of being stuck indoors.)

Spring is an invitation to go out into the garden and look for the start of new growth. Right now the snowdrops are still in flower, crocuses are showing as little flashes of colour here and there, and the daffodils are promising flowers soon, as their leaves lengthen and their buds fatten.

The long wait of winter is almost over. It’s time to start work in the garden again.

There’s lots to do – new borders to dig, weeds to get rid of, and old dead growth to be cleared away to allow room for the new shoots. The work is invigorating and brings a connection to the earth and the life that is quietly pulsing within it.  That connection creates an awareness of the natural world. It gives a feeling of being part of that world, and of well-being and pleasure at being able to contribute to it.

If you’re coming to the end of winter wherever you live, I hope that you’re starting to see the signs of spring. Do enjoy them!

The Romantic Rose

Pink and cream rose
A rose for romance.

Because it will be St. Valentine’s Day on Thursday, it feels appropriate to post photographs of roses this week.

The rose has a long connection with love and romance, right from ancient Greek times when it was associated with Aphrodite, the goddess of love. And these days, the red rose is seriously in demand on February 14th.

But, for me, all roses have a romantic feel about them, especially if they have a scent. (What is more wonderful on a still summer morning, than a garden of scented roses? Just imagine the rich colours, the velvety petals that beg you to stroke them, and that trace of perfume in the air…)

In Britain, it seems to be rather in the blood to love roses. It’s the nation’s favourite flower (according to a survey in 2017) and it’s also the national flower of England. (But England only – the national flower of Scotland is the thistle and Wales has the daffodil.)

The first roses I fell in love with must have been the dog roses I saw as a young child. They grew on some of the roadside verges near my home and it seemed like a kind of miracle to see something so perfect just growing in the wild. Much later on, I can remember my joy when I moved into my first home with my husband, and discovered that there were well-established roses in the garden. When we moved here, the garden had just a single rose bush but, oh my, the scent is lovely! (I think it must be Zephirine Drouhin – bright cerise-pink and very few thorns.) I liked it so much that I planted another near the back door, so that we can smell it’s perfume when we step outside.

By now, as you would expect, I’ve planted several other roses in the garden, including the rose below. It is ‘Rhapsody in Blue’, an absolutely lovely rose. The scent is sweet and the colour works beautifully with so many other garden plants in the pinky-purply range. (I also have another one planted beside a pale yellow hybrid tea rose called ‘Grandpa Dickson’ and they look very good together.)

By the way, if you happen to get a bunch of dark purple roses, the colour is supposed to mean ‘lasting love’ – a pretty good alternative if the red roses are all gone! (I would certainly be happy with them!)

I hope that you and your loved one have a very happy Valentine’s Day.

Rose 'Rhapsody in Blue'
Rose ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ – my favourite.

Glorious Green: Ferns

A tightly-curled young fern frond.
A tightly-curled young fern frond.

By this stage of winter, the idea of lush green growth is tremendously appealing. It’s easy to dream of densely-planted borders bursting with re-emerging life – new shoots, unfurling leaves, and buds that swell with the promise of flowers soon to come.

Amongst all this imagined greenery, ferns would be an excellent addition. Their finely-cut fronds would contrast well with larger, more solid leaves and would bring their delicate textures and a subtle feel of pattern to the border.

Hairy reverse of young fern-frond.
The young fronds are very hairy on the back. They look almost furry!

For photography, ferns make an excellent subject. There’s lots of pleasing detail, especially in the new foliage. The tightly-wound curls of the young fronds are especially photogenic and the outside surface of the curl (the back of the frond) can be surprisingly hairy and looks soft to touch.

(Saying that has made me realise that I didn’t actually touch them. I could have put out a finger to stroke the back of a curl, but I didn’t. Perhaps I should have. Taking photographs can absorb you so that you forget to interact with plants – or a garden – in ways that you would do, if you were walking around without a camera. So maybe I need to leave my camera in its bag for a while and explore the garden, before I start to take photographs.)

Fern leaves.
Fern leaves can add some texture and pattern to garden borders.

In my real garden (as opposed to the imaginary borders where anything will grow), it is too hot and dry for most ferns. The Male Fern (Dryopteris filix-mas) is reckoned to be able to cope with drier conditions than most, but that is if it’s in the shade. Most of our garden gets a lot of sunshine, but there is one area that is shaded by the house in the afternoon. Now I am wondering if that bit of ground might be suitable for making a bog garden and I’m imagining the other moisture-loving plants that would also be happy there. (Though there are ferns that don’t need such damp soil.)

If I do go ahead with this idea, the beautiful green growth of ferns would be a very satisfying reward. (Meanwhile, my imaginary garden is flourishing!)

Fern fronds with curled tips.
The curly tips of the fronds of this fern look unusual.