Spring marches onward
Madgardener
blistering heat that forced the tender cool loving spring bulbs into early
bloom, then it was over too soon, to the many perennials that grew as fast
as they could possibly grow at last there has been a blessed breath of
cooling air.
Like a mother's cool hand on a child's feverish forehead, the gardens here
in Fairy Hollow are almost perceptively breathing a sigh of relief and
settling into a more normal pace before the next surge of heat assaults
them. The cold front was preceeded by promising clouds that refused to hold
back the rains for days on end. I would scan the sky in eager hope that
today we'd get more than a spit of rain, hell, even a spit was welcome since
the clouds greedily saved their droplets for North Carolina and north of us
on my backside.
One morning as I drove to work, the sky was an old sailor's chant of "red
sky at night, sailor's delight, red sky in morning, sailor's take warning".
The morning sunrise was a blazing streaked reddish pink that promised rains
and weather. Again, not to be. The winds and the gods that blew them
eastward made sure of that.
Well after the feeding lightening storms from the night before, everything
is so green that the eyes are bathed with it. Shades of green that I forget
even exist. Where the limbs were fuzzy with babies emerging on twigs and
branches, now they are fully open. Even the red oak leaves are bulking up in
my woods and pleading with me to reconsider before I cut the saplings down.
These are pin oaks, slow to grow to full size, they would take three times
my lifetime just to get to an impressive size. But who am I to deny an oak
tree a life? I have reconsidered the radical thinning of them and turn my
gazes to the scrubby cedars instead. These are more expendable and I can
keep the remaining large ones and sacrifice the smaller ones for their non
rotting wood for raised bed sides and not feel like I have commited murder
of a worthy tree.
Now don't get me wrong, cedar is more than a worthy tree. The ability of not
rotting is most desirable to me as a gardener. But as fast as they grow
around here and the sheer magnatude of them, not to mention their tenasity
tells me it's not a big thing or decision. I moved on.
Up here, the signs of spring marching onward with or without me is clearly
obvious. I find myself being wrapped up in the stronger spells of the
fairies that dwell here with me and live and garden. Outside my window in
the NSSG, I see that removing the lattice from the railing that runs along
the small wooden walkway has given the shade loving plants a bit of a shock.
They're holding their own so far, but the longer days and the sun will
decide wheather I will replace the lattice before the residents in this bed
blister and demise.
I am looking thru the window past the things I have stuck to the panes on
the inside, three Celtic knots on plastic to be hung in the windows to catch
the rays of day, blues and greens and golds, and a doily that my dear
friend's
grandmother tatted and that she gifted me with as an earring holder. She
placed the doily on the embroidery hoop as a frame, but it's so neat, that I
hung it on the window latch and you can see just thru it to the gardens past
it. .
I've taken an old shower soap tray that hooks over the shower head and pipe
and hooked it over a nail in the wooden window frame and on those little
coated wires I've placed a little treasured planter that hasn't gotten a
plant yet. I'm still deciding what to put there that will live in it. It's a
little burro pulling a cart, but it's old, very old as my mother in law
gifted it to me long ago. A cool rock that usually resides in a pot (all my
neat rocks, and
shells and various eye catching things wind up inside on the soil with my
potted plants), a stain glass tulip that needs another window sucker to hang
from, and a novelty pineapple pot with an air fern
someone gave me as a gift of humor. A dried flower stained glass window
hanger that has a chipped corner that my mother gave back to me before her
mind began to slide to other places in her moments of Altzheimers,and a
glass cat that an Avon nut gave me once because she knew I loved and had
cats whose name eludes me to this day......
Outside past all these visual distractions I see that the leaves of the
varigated dogwood have finally filled out on the red twigs, and true to what
I thought, one plant is more than impressive in it's varigation. One fairly
glows, they were planted side to side, in one large hole in a more shady
spot on the northern end of the NSSG, closer to where the wall is the former
owners built to retain the small slope years ago when the house was first
constructed. This is the postage size side yard I speak of that I have
crammed so full with perennials and bushes and clematis.
At the feet of the creamy leafed cornus shrub baby, is a double pink ruffled
columbine
that fairies must have planted. There are alot of those. Flowers that the
fairies planted I mean. The amount of Dames Rockets alone is staggering to
me. I am finding them everywhere. One is so huge and overpowering I dare not
remove it yet, but it dominates the shade bed under the black cherry tree.
It overwhelms the rest of the shady treasures I have lovingly tucked into
the rich composted chip soil. But I can't yank it out. It's far past that
now. The flower stalk has risen upwards in the last days now and has already
started forming that bumpy little head that will shoot out individual pink
lavendar rounded stars, and then I might think of removing the one.
The seeds of Dames rockets are true fairy seeds. Dust fine, you can see
hordes of the little people with tiny bags drifting the seeds everywhere
once the flowers are spent from the pollination from the winged helpers.
My hellebore are still covered in blossoms, but now they nurture seeds on a
few, the rest are barren reminders of incredible blooms in weeks past. But
now, risen from the older, more leathery leaves of last year, the new growth
of leaves are pushing upwards and from my window I can see the veins on
them, dark against the fresh olive green of the new leaves.
I see the leaf miners have been released to give texture to the columbine
leaves. I don't mind. They don't hurt much, and the leaves seem to benefit
from the tracings as the little bugs eat their favorite snack food. It never
harms the making of seeds, so I leave them be. Its just another wonder of
Nature to be forgiven.
Textures everywhere, my eye struggles to seperate and sort each member out,
the yellowish cream edging of the varigated Solomon's seal, the tiny white
bells that hung along the stems under the leaves now dried up and looking
like little rolls of paper on threads. Hovering over the new leaves of the
helleboras is another columbine that either I or the fairies planted. this
one isn't a double, it's a darker reddish pink one, fully almost ten inches
higher than the leaves on the hellebore.
A stray Dames rocket leans outside the aging cedar trunk that lines this
bed, beside it, another invader, the Zebrina sisters have become quite
proliferous, their progeny are everywhere. And I have given them to people,
potted one up and got it over the shock of digging, the rest I have just dug
up and still there are more of them. I have decided that they can stay, but
I think of them blocking your way as you try to get past them to the western
room and I have to grin. Soon enough I will see the new gifts of sunflower
towers the birds have given me from last years trees. They will challange
the zebrina's for space.
Behind the crinkled non furry leaves of the Zebrina that is rising up is the
ghostly creamy lime yellow leaves speckled with flecks of spilled green
paint from some fairy's paint bucket of the Japanese knotweed. The varigated
one survived. The dragon's wing darker one didn't. But I am most impressed
with this plant. I realize that I will have to watch it carefully as it
seems to creep unfettered under the loose soil.
Just nearby the dark, fuzzy textures on the leaves of the emerging Blue
Egnima salvia is rising from another location. Different spot from last
year, but returning, I am happy to see it. When my hummers return from
their winter in Mexico, they will love it as much as I do. And soon enough
I will see the little spikes of green tufted, tightly curled leaves of the
loosestrife I brought from Michigan years back that behaves, but feeds the
decending hordes of Japanese beetles each year. Behind these leaves are the
dark bronze green fuzz of the bronze fennel, like some mysterious fern
beast, the parent plant is back, showing thickness in it's returning stems
of licorace smelling fluff, mature and solid, behind it on the ground
trickling like fuzzy little bronze green dribbles of life, her children are
poking their fuzzy little heads up everywhere.
I see the perennials gathering themselves upright and starting their
formation of blossom spikes. The oriental poppies with their thistle looking
fern leaves have seemingly over night risen tight green fists of promises.
Closed for now, these little balls will reveal the most delicate but
screaming red poppies the eye can behold.
The colors in the garden at the moment seems to be lavendar and purples.
The iris, the money plants, the Dames, every now and then a breather in all
this soft and deep lavendar and shades of purple, the common buttercup that
was brought in by fairy hands has shiney yellow flowers and their glowing
color at the feet of the white Joe Pye that's woken up is refreshing to me.
Everywhere I see signs of fairy hands at play. The spiderworts have been
coaxed out of the confines of the raised beds and landscape timbers and been
encouraged to wander where they will. The pale, pale milky whitish blue one
has crossed over to the light blue color this year, but it insists on living
next to the landscape timber on the outside. Way over in the eastern
portion of the front bed, a deeper blue spiderwort has taken up residence,
and the blue triangle flowers are more than welcome on a cloudy day like it
is today.
I have transcended time here with you all, and literally jumped to another
day, but my mind tends to play tricks on me and I wander outside observing
when I take the opportunities and whims. The gooseneck loosestrife has
jumped out of the beds at each end, shoving up thru the clay soil and
stopping only by the gravel of the driveway. Once again I see that the
overturned copper bin I have used to place pots of various planted wonders
(I LOVE to plant pots of perennials of all sorts, mixing sedums and
perennials and bulbs and seeing who will live with what) has been knocked
over, probably by the inadequate driving abilities of my across the driveway
neighbor, Jerry. So rather than go out one day and discover another $40 clay
pot broken and rich soil and perennial on the ground, I will move the
offending piece of display to a less hazardous place. The man had an old
pickup truck with no power steering and if he breaks another pot I may have
to kill him. It's impossible for me to just go out and locate quality old
fashioned clay pots at the drop of a bill. I can't afford them. The pot he's
broken last was over 45 years old and never flaked with the cold weather.
It was irreplacable. I won't hurt him, but I will start staging my plants in
the side yard since if he winds up there, he IS in big trouble. <G>
The pot of yellow primrose are all awake and bursting at the sides of the
pot, this one is a quarter of a white plastic barrel that we cut down 10
years ago, I think it's high time I plugged the plants into a hole and plant
it up with another worthy selection of perennials and rhizomes.
One outstanding Dutch iris is blooming, but the magenta spiderwort in the
side yard has moved closer to the lemon balm. I adore the lemony scent of
the leaves, invasive as it is, and even cook with it when I have chicken.
Next to the magenta pink spiderworts, is the deep dark blue one Mary Emma
gave me and it's tossed a daughter out of the box to land four foot away and
on the clay soil. The daylilies are all intent on excaping their confines
as well, and as I see a child pushing it's leafy face up from underneath the
lower timbers that line the western bed, I catch a glimpse of something
unusual nestled in the chaos and jungle of the bulbs leaves and the fat
healthy anemone leaves. It's a huge spath blossom of the arum lily. Next to
this huge one is a smaller one, and they are really interesting looking.
This means I might get another orange corncob looking seed spike later on.
the last one was as shocking orange as the picture in Dutch Gardens showed
it to be.
The pale powdery blue star flowers on the amsonia have breathed a sign of
relief and the cool temperatures are more than welcome to them. I am moving
the larger clump of them from the north side of the house to the western
side of the yard later on. At the moment they are surrounded by towering
trees of money plants and are overwhelmed.
The lemon queen helenium has bulked up, the zinnia seeds have started
sprouting and making signs of individual plants, and at their feet the fat,
succulent looking leaves and stems that are blush pink and green of my
returning 4 o'clocks. The lilies are all competing with each other to see
who can grow the fastest and I see the formation already of some buds on
their fuzzy little heads like little knots with white hairs.
Out in the back of the house in the walnut bed the small group of lilies of
the valley are slowing taking hold, and I see thru the forest of money
plants that the ajuga has claimed the surface, and the hosta's are breaking
ground. That sends a message to my brain to go over and look at the hosta's
under the black cherry tree. I planted a tiny one in the hole of an upturned
bricko block that I edged part of this garden with. Yep, lemon lime yellow,
and tiny perfect leaves have emerged from the hole filled with soil. All
manner of ferns have sprung out of the soil and you can almost hear the
spring sounds from the old cartoons in the background if it weren't such a
cacophony of bird songs and ruckus.
I find myself knealing more and more, or bending to get a closer look.
Reaching into cool leaves and snag a scalloped leaf with tiny blue flowers
and gently pull, ahhh, the creeping charlie is so easy to remove and now is
the time to take it from the raised beds. I know that the fairies will
replant it for the bees, but the tiny flowers have served their purpose now
and need to be removed.
Oh oh............quick, out of the corner of my eye, the small winged
dragons are back! His emerald green feathers glistening in the sparce
sunlight, he flits around and spies all those fairy skirts and dips to have
a taste. Nothing like the relief that my hummers are back, even if it's just
one or two families returning from last year's brood. I stood perfectly
still, my eyes straining to keep up with his maneuvers amongst the flower
tops, and finally he lit for a precious moment on the ox-tongue succulent
that I had sat the bowl on top of the new railing that Squire and youngest
son built for me awhile back. As he sat there, preening himself, it was as
if to assure me that "yes indeed, I'm back, and I have a wife and precious
little jewels tucked away in a spot no one knows of but me, I'm just making
sure you're keeping your end of the bargain and still providing this
incredible buffet"
His momentary spell of cleanliness is broken as he comes back to himself and
does that impossible lift off and goes thru the sound barrier with a
perceptable squeek lingering in the heavily fragrant air that smells of
pawlonia blossoms, hanging above me on contorted and bent branches fills the
air with grape soda smells. Blended together with the thick fragrance of the
irises that are languishing now in the cooler temperatures, the air is
intoxicating. Tuck in fresh damp earth smells, green leaves and a gentle
breeze and it was a perfect spring moment these last two days.
The day has slipped past me and I hear the sounds of birds saying their good
nights to each other, talking in low tones, behind that I hear the peepers
putting in a note or five for good measure, and the twilight settles down
around the trees. Stars are starting to peep out in the indigo velvet sky
above me up here, so I will call it a night and continue the thread some
other time. Thanks for allowing me to share the magic I see, feel and hear
around me up here on this little spot.
madgardener up on the ridge, back in Fairy Hollow, overlooking English
Mountain ,in Eastern Tennessee zone 6b