The spring vetchling or spring pea (Lathyrus vernus) is one of those plants that needs to be seen up close to appreciate its loveliness.
It’s a relative of the sweet pea, but is far smaller and looks much more delicate. It doesn’t climb, but instead produces a rounded clump of leaves and flowers around 18 inches high and wide. The flowers are just 3/4 inch long.
Several different cultivars of Lathyrus vernus have been bred to give different flower colours. You can find plants with flowers in pink and white, plain pale pink, white or blue. The plant in my photographs is the original species.
These flowers start out purplish pink, but gradually age to a pale blue. This gives a range of different shades of colour which adds to the appeal for photography. In those areas where background flowers are out of focus, the colours have a softness that reminds me of watercolour paint (top photo).
While writing this, I have popped back into my studio and had a quick look at the flowers in their vase. I was delighted to discover that the flowers have continued to change colour even after picking. The remaining flowers are now almost all blue, so I should be able to take some quite different photographs of them. (In that case, next week’s post will probably be blue spring flowers.)
The spring pea’s flowers are amongst my favourites at this time of year. For me, the smallest flowers can be the prettiest.
After last week’s pink tulips, here’s more pretty pinks – but even frothier! (Or should that be fluffier – not sure, but this cherry blossom can out-pink anything else.)
The blossom on our cherry tree is late this year because April has been so cold. Not all of the buds have opened yet but it should be a very good show when they are. The tree must be a good few years old, so is a good size and is always completely covered in these soft pink flowers.
The tree is Prunus ‘Kanzan’, one of the most frequently-seen ornamental cherries here. Sadly, our tree may not be here for many more years. They’re known to have a short life-expectancy. (I’ve seen differing estimates of 15-20 years and up to 40 years.) Ours was a mature tree when we moved here 16 years ago. In addition, it now has splits in the bark, which may be due to the effects of winter weather or may be an indication of disease. It has obviously suffered from canker at some time before we moved in, but this hasn’t stopped it from being laden with flowers in spring.
For now, we’ll enjoy whatever time the tree has left. At the same time, we will probably have to think about what we might want to plant in its place in the future. It should probably be something that doesn’t get too big, given that it’s so close to our boundary with our neighbours. We wouldn’t want it to protrude into their driveway! And it needs to be robust and healthy because it is the most exposed area of the front garden.
It feels a bit sad to to know that it may not be long before we have to remove this old cherry tree. We moved in to this house at a time when it was in full, glorious flower and it felt like a warm welcome to our new home. But the tree, like its flowers, is an ephemeral thing – to be enjoyed in the moment. (And afterwards I will still have photographs of its blossom as a reminder of it.)
Tulips are a sign that spring is well underway. Winter is forgotten and plans are being made for summer.
However, tulips are something that I don’t have much experience of in the garden. I think that’s because I became frustrated by the fact that so many varieties don’t come back again. I’d plant tulips that flowered beautifully the first year (and perhaps remember to photograph them) but then the next year I’d wonder what I’d done wrong when they failed to reappear.
Recently I’ve allowed myself to fall in love with them again. They are one of the prettiest and most feminine of flowers at this time of year and I love to photograph them too. So now I am happy to grow a few every year, to give myself something new to photograph and to enjoy while they’re here.
Some tulips, like the one below, have only flowered once before disappearing. So I was delighted when the tulip in the top picture not only came back this year but has produced even more flowers. It’s ‘Angelique’ and is certainly a vision of sweetness in the early morning sun.
I didn’t buy any bulbs last autumn but this year I’ll make a point of buying some tulips that I haven’t tried before. Then there will be something new and delightful to look forward to next spring.
The common names for Anemone blanda are ‘Grecian windflower’ or ‘winter windflower’. ‘Why windflower?’, I wondered, as I dived into a little internet search. The reason for the name is unclear. Some suggest that it’s because it symbolises their fragility in the wind, while others say it’s because the flowers are opened by the wind.
Whatever the reason behind the name, it probably comes from a Greek word which translates as ‘daughter of the wind’. That translation appeals to me greatly. I can imagine it as the name for a graceful old-fashioned sailing ship or a sleek modern racing yacht. I suppose I’m not the only one to come up with that idea!
But sailing ships are taking us far from garden flowers. This daisy-like flower is currently flowering in odd corners of my garden, mostly where I’d forgotten planting it. (Actually, I think that its rhizomes sometimes get picked up and transferred with other plants as I divide and move them elsewhere. So eventually they could end up anywhere in the garden.)
The anemone above has a visitor. It’s not a bee, though, but a bee-fly. Although it may look like a bee, you can see the difference in the long proboscis (tongue, used for feeding on nectar) and the long and very fragile-looking legs. Although the proboscis may look sharp and a bit scary, bee-flies don’t sting or bite. They just try to look as if they might!
Bee-flies aren’t good news for the nearby ground-nesting bumblebees, because bee-fly larvae eat the bumblebee larvae. Luckily it doesn’t seem to affect the overall number of bumblebees. (Just shows how much murder and mayhem is going on among the beasties that live in our gardens!)
I hope that some of the bumblebees will find these anemones too. Apparently bees prefer to work among a large patch of the same flowers, rather than going to lone individuals. This must be a great reason/excuse for growing more of all the early spring flowers, especially these delightful beauties. (Given time, they will spread, but I reckon I’d like to give them some help.)
Please note that I won’t be able to reply to comments until after Tuesday because of internet connection problems. But I’ll be back to chat to you after that!
The pasqueflowers (Pulsatilla vulgaris) are flowering slightly earlier than last year. That means they’re here in time for Easter, so they’re living up to their name. (The pasque part of the name comes from ‘paschal’, meaning ‘of or related to Easter’.)
The clumps are a bit bigger than last year, so there are more flowers too. Those fluffy, cup-shaped flowers are a most welcome sight. They seem to have settled into the garden here very well and they’re probably the most reliable of our spring flowers.
But they don’t just look good – they feel nice too. Those fine hairs on the outside of the petals, buds and leaves are just as soft as they appear. I know this for certain, having spent a few minutes stroking them just to check! It’s not often that I think about how a plant feels as opposed to how it looks, but with these, the urge to touch is strong.
Although a native wildflower in the UK, the pasqueflower is rarely seen in the wild. It has become a well-loved garden flower, with nurseries and garden centres stocking plants with purple, white (‘Alba’) or deep red (‘Rubra’) flowers.
I was hoping that I might have the opportunity to buy one or two more pasqueflower plants today. We were able to visit a garden centre for the first time in many months. (Probably since the end of last August.) It was a treat to be able to do this again and we did make sure to buy some plants. (But no pasqueflowers this time.)
Now that a few weeks have passed since having our first Covid jabs, we have enough protection to be able to explore the world again. Plant nurseries will be also able to open soon, so I’m feeling excited about being able to visit my favourites again. There’s a fair bit of border space that’s just waiting for some new plants to fill it!
If you celebrate it, I wish you a very happy Easter. And for everyone, I hope you enjoy your weekend.
Recently my neighbour brought me some beautiful hellebore heads from her garden. She’d been cutting some to display in a bowl and said she felt like sharing the bounty. As you can imagine, I was delighted.
You won’t be at all surprised to know that I photographed them. To start with I tried photographing them in the bowl I floated the heads in. However, I soon realised that the markings on the petals of the individual flowers would show much better if I photographed them on their own.
To photograph the flower heads, I used my studio lighting and my ‘light-table’. This table is simply a piece of curved white plastic on a frame. It’s translucent, so that I can shine light through it. And that means the light can pass through the flowers too.
This is probably my favourite way to photograph flowers. It shows up every detail of markings and colour changes in the flowers, making it a great way to show the pretty freckles and streaks on these hellebores.
Using the light table also shows the veining in the leaves well. I was surprised to see how much pink there is in the leaf-veins in the photo above. The light coming through the leaves has really brought out the colour. (And it makes the colour of the flower gleam too.)
Just to see the difference, I decided to photograph the next hellebore in a tiny coloured bowl. Although I like the way the dark purple of the bowl goes with the deep purply-pink markings on the flower’s petals, I prefer the other images. This has made me think that I will probably use the light-table more often to create images that show the translucence of the flowers. (Especially when someone brings me such a lovely gift!)
Crocuses are, for me, the first signs that spring is on the way. Hellebores don’t give me the same feeling because they start flowering when it’s still winter. But crocuses, with their fresh and radiant colours, show us that the garden has begun to fill with new life.
Before long, there will be other flowers to continue what the crocuses have started. But for now these are the flowers that bring gardeners (and the first bees) joy.
When I lived near Edinburgh, I enjoyed the sight of mass plantings of crocuses in some of its parks. These gleaming sparks of colour, sprinkled over lush grass, were a cheerful sight and a reassurance that the cold of winter would end. Seeing the brilliant flowers fully open in the sunshine was a reminder that summer would come and days would be warm and bright.
This year I think we need the promise of better days more than we ever did. I’m looking forward to being able to spend more time outside, especially now I am aware of how much we benefit from being in contact with nature. Soon we will be able to enjoy the natural world again, as spring gives us the chance to get out into our gardens and back to the countryside.
Tulips are flowers to make you smile. They come in all sorts of rich colours and extraordinary shapes, like the parrot tulip above. And they just call out to me to photograph them.
The tulip in the top photograph is ‘Black Parrot’, but, as you can see, it’s not really black at all. It’s more of a deep maroon shade – like a very dark wine. Here, newly picked and under the powerful studio lights, the reddish tones stand out. But the colour looks more purplish in the less intense light of my kitchen, especially as the flower ages.
I’m looking forward to seeing how this tulip flower will develop as it opens out fully. New shapes will be created by the unfurling petals, giving the opportunity to take a variety of different photographs.
The tulip below is very different to the first one. It’s a viridiflora – named for the green markings on the petals. The vibrant colours and sheen of the petals make me think of silk. The twisting shapes of the petals even suggest that the fabric is swaying in a breeze.
This year I’ve had several different tulips in the garden and they have done well in our warm spring weather. (There are more that are just starting to open.)
I haven’t grown many before, but now I feel encouraged to make a point of trying some new tulips every year. Then we’ll have the enjoyment of them in the borders and I’ll have plenty of lovely subjects to photograph.
Now I’m just waiting for the ‘Blue Parrot’ tulips to open – exciting!
Our lives may have been put on hold by Covid-19, but spring is speeding along as usual.
It seems that we wait for weeks in late winter for any sign of spring’s arrival. And then, when it gets here, it almost bowls us over with the energy and headlong change as everything in the garden rushes into growth and new life.
Spring feels wonderful but is hard to keep up with. So many jobs to do – plants, seeds, weeds – where to start? And with so many plants flowering at once, I always miss photographing some of them.
But the special flowers, like the cherry and crab apple blossom here, are worth making a special effort for. The wind had begun tearing at the delicate flowers, so I quickly cut a couple of sprays to photograph indoors. This makes it much easier to capture their details in close-up photographs, with no worries about them being blown around by the wind.
Being able to spend some time photographing these flowers was a special joy. It was a chance to appreciate their soft and transient beauty without other distractions intruding. And it was a bit of attention that the flowers thoroughly deserved. I hope you have time and the opportunity to enjoy some flowers this week.
Over the past week or so, I’ve been enjoying the brilliantly-coloured flowers of Pulsatilla vulgaris (commonly known as pasqueflower) in my garden. Their rich violet-purple petals and golden stamens are a sight that has lifted my spirits.
You can see these flowers at their best on a sunny day, when they open fully, inviting bees to come and pollinate them. Soon there will be the fluffy white seed heads which glisten in the sun as their silky hairs catch the light. (You can see the seed head at the top of this post.)
It feels like no time at all since the flowers started to appear but it won’t be long before they go over. This feeling is partly because I’m distracted by the spring work in the garden and sometimes get too engrossed in whatever is keeping me busy.
A nearby clump of white pasqueflowers has already finished flowering. (I removed the seed heads from this one as it’s still a young plant and I didn’t want it to put its energy into producing seeds yet.) The difference in timing intrigues me – why did the white one flower a couple of weeks earlier than the purple one? It can’t be a difference in conditions because they are only a foot apart and get the same amount of sun.
The spring flowers seem to rush into bloom very quickly and disappear quickly too. Maybe it’s the comparison with the slower changes of winter that makes this seem to be the case. It’s a good time to pause and have a good look around to see what’s in bloom and to take a few moments to appreciate the brilliance and exuberance of our spring flowers.