Wandered through the gardens yesterday, camera in hand. Here’s how the light played.
Our warm weather has urged the garden into mosaics of green spires of day lily foliage, scalloped and beaded lady’s mantle capes, and hosta caves for Callie to doze the day away. And now the promise of winding brick paths against the backdrop of late spring is here. I love the pathway that my friend Maja put in last fall.
I spent a lovely Memorial Day shopping for plants with a friend. This has become a tradition. In fact, long before I moved to Grand Rapids, she and I would drive to Motman’s in Allendale and fill my car with plants and baskets. Now that I live closer to Allendale, she drives to my house and we then launch ourselves west to Countryside and Motman’s and any other place that draws us in. It becomes a special day of catching up, comparing aches and pains, and marveling at how old we’ve gotten. Neither one of us can quite understand how we could possibly be the senior citizens that we’ve become.
I haven’t planted everything I bought, but I will within the next few days. In the meantime, everything is clumped together in a spot where the sprinkler system will keep it watered and in great shape until I can get everything in the ground.
The shredded bark went in this week and I love how it makes the beds pop. The pathways that now wind past the barked beds provide a great boundary between the plants and the paths. The crushed limestone did what it needed to for a long time, but they were getting tired and difficult to maintain. The bricks make it look like the garden has always been part of the house. And, they make me look like a better gardener than I am.
It is hot here in West Michigan. The heat has forced lots of flowers into bloom and it’s safe to assume that no frost will nip them now. I love the garden in late afternoon when the sun is low. Clematis x White is blooming and it’s vines are twining nicely with the later blooming variety. That was a good choice. I’d like to vines to completely hide the ugly green arches that the previous own left behind. I moved them to the entrance of the secret garden hoping to create a tunnel effect. I think it’s working.
I wish those saucer sized blooms continued all summer. But these will fade and leave interesting, but less charming, swirls. I will get a few blooms later in the summer, but nothing like the number I get in early summer. Or, in this case, late spring.
The hostas are going crazy this spring. I don’t know whether it’s the warm weather, the right amount of rain, or just that they are now mature enough to put on a leafy show. But I won’t question it.
This Great Expectations, one of four, has been transplanted a couple of times. It and its buddies seem to be quite happy in the little nook behind the garage.
And, the hostas in the front garden are doing well, also. I seem to be fond of pairing hostas with heucheras. The old magnolia provides a wonderful canapy. And to think there was a hug blue spruce dominating that old magnolia.
I struggle, though, to control the snow on the mountain that no amount of pulling, plucking, digging or swearing seems to discourage for long. And, to my chagrin, I actually thought I was growing a nice mound of astilbe until I say a stalk of buds that did not look at all like an astilbe bud. Out came the perennial spade and out went the dreaded snow on the mountain. It is the non-variegated kind. Hence my confusion. It is now in the yard waste bin and will become compost. Good but temporary riddance. Every time I dig up snow on the mountain I think about postmodern theory and all those little under-the-surface connections.