Let your photo(s) tell your story.







For more on peonies check out A Walk Down Peony Lane – link.
Let your photo(s) tell your story.
For more on peonies check out A Walk Down Peony Lane – link.
The only positive thing about this cool rainy spring is that I haven’t had to water anything…not even once. Mother Nature has done it for me. In fact it’s rained so much this past month that most of the farmers haven’t even been able to get their crops planted, the latest season ever as many recall. It’s sad to drive through the countryside and see all those bare soggy fields. The crop insurance has been extended a few days, but things are looking desperate, and the forecast is more of the same. Let’s send out a few prayers for our farmers – because if they don’t plant, we don’t eat.
I’ve been preoccupied with the kitchen reno, but here’s a recap of the best of the spring flowers, even if I’ve been too busy and it’s been too rainy to enjoy them.
The hyacinths at the corner always make going to the mailbox a treat.
These little purple violets scattered in the grass are always so pretty, especially if you ignore the weeds!
The nicest thing about this picture, also taken near the mailbox, is the shade, which means the trees are finally leafing out. I love the play of the shadows on the lawn.
The squirrels dug up most of my tulips,
so I really appreciate it when someone else makes an effort. It’s always a treat to drive down this street and see this yard, and this one.
Last year I transplanted a few blue forget-me-nots from my neighbour – they were so pretty I hope they are invasive.
My only purchase earlier in the spring was a pink and yellow dahlia and a couple of bright pink begonias, my first for both types of plants. I didn’t know what to do with them, and read that the dahlia had to be dug up in the fall so I just stuck them in bigger pots. The dahlia has flourished, with many buds again, but the begonias got too water-logged.
The lilacs finally bloomed, mine pale and anemic, so I enjoyed the neighbors dark purple ones which hang over my fence. The bloom-again lilac was a few weeks later, but I was disappointed in it’s smell. We’ll see if it lives up to it’s name.
The lily of the valley was plentiful too, another invasive gift from a fellow gardener.
My 50 cent bargain iris from last years horticultural sale bloomed for the first time, all of them coming up purple, except for one ugly burgundy one I gave away as it didn’t fit the color scheme. The second year for this fuchsia clematis. My new one, planted last fall, is not out yet but as it is a Jackmanii, it may be later.
Sometimes I’m not sure if things will bloom the first year, but the half-price peonies planted last fall burst forth a pretty pink.
When I finally got to the nursery again, these were my selections. I’ve never had a dipladenia plant before (smaller than a Mandevilla), but it looks very tropical. And one can never have enough lavender.
I may pick up some half-price geranium pots if I can find any, but even the nursery plants are struggling this year. Many look so pathetic no one would want to take them home, which is just as well, as man does not live by flowers alone. I planted lettuce in early May and all the rain has made me the Lettuce Queen of the neighborhood. Let us be grateful for homegrown salads!
One of the rewarding things about gardening is the legacy of loveliness you can leave for future generations. Gardening requires patience as often it takes years to establish something. You might have moved on to a different house or a different life before you see the fruits of your labor, but future generations will stop and bless you when they see the end result, (and part of the pleasure of blogging is sharing these small doses of beauty).
Every June when I was working I would drive by this old house on my daily commute and admire the rows of flowers flanking both sides of a long narrow driveway. The house was on the outskirts of a small town, which must have been farmland at one time due to it’s deep lot and wide expanse of front lawn. Being a novice gardener and knowing next to nothing about flowers, one day I decided to stop and inquire what kind of shrubs they were.
I parked on the side street and knocked on the back door. An elderly gentleman answered, wiping his hands on a towel as I had interrupted his preparations for lunch. Peonies, he said, and if I wanted some I was welcome to dig them up. He had often thought about tearing them all out, but his wife liked them. His father had planted them seventy or eighty years ago. I quickly pleaded with him not to do so, as I and many people driving by had the pleasure of looking at them every year.
I never went back in the fall to dig them up, but the next time I was at a nearby nursery I asked the owner for some peony bushes just like Mr. Peony Lane’s. She was familiar with the house, so I requested one medium pink and one darker one, expecting to wake up to a riot of color in the spring.
The following year when mine flowered,
two pale things appeared. I know some people like a whitish garden, but I crave color. Although I was disappointed, they were nice in their own way and did so well that I left them and every year they flower, faithfully, because that’s what peonies do!
Postscript: Should you wish to take a walk down peony lane, the video below was taken this past June while driving through the town. (It is my first time posting video so it may or may not work, so I posted lots of pretty pictures). Lest you think I am the kind of person who randomly invades other peoples property, I only ventured a short distance up the lane and tried to focus on the bushes using the zoom lens. I considered knocking on the door, but my initial visit was ten years ago, and I wasn’t sure the elderly man still lived there, plus I had my mother in the car who was tired from an afternoon out. It was a lovely early June day, sunny and warm but with a nice breeze, the kind of day you wish would stay all year. It was cool under the shade of those giant trees – peonies like sun, but will tolerate light shade – a perfect vista of a summer day. Maybe next fall, I will take a shovel and go back….