More Early Spring Arrivals

White Start to a New Gardening Year

After a month visiting family in Australia and fleeing ahead of Cyclone Gabrielle in New Zealand, we arrived home in late February to find the first flowers of 2023 already blooming.

Snow crocus in the shelter of the house were basking in a little sunshine among the green fronds of Sedum 'Angelina'.

The earliest snowdrops were also in bloom. It surprises me that of the kinds I have, the double varieties are always first. 

Narcissus 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' was living up to its name as well. It always blooms with the snowdrops and crocus, at least a month ahead of any other daffodil I know. 

It's tough in other ways too, as it proved when, a few days later, the weather suddenly changed and Vancouver had more snow than we normally see at this time of year.

Overnight all my bright blooms were gone, flattened under this heavy blanket.

    But wait, what's this?

Yes, it's that determined daffodil, shouldering its way out of a drift, setting an example for other sturdy plants.

A stem of Hellebore 'Penny's Pink', only just in bud but clearly another strong-stemmed harbinger of spring, was also heaving itself upright. Behind it, where the tree canopy had taken most of the load, a clump of snowdrops was breaking through. 

As March begins, more ground is becoming visible and, while a few flowers like Crocus 'Gipsy Girl have suffered, ... 

they and most others have rebounded with little obvious damage.

I'm particularly pleased that this snowdrop is not only thriving but multiplying. It's a rare variety called 'Rosemary Burnham' named for the Vancouver gardener in whose garden it first appeared.

Summer Review

Time got away from me this year. Summer heat drove me from my desk in the dormer visible behind the roses in the first photo, and I've failed to catch up until now. When I began this entry I was looking back at some plants that not only survived the heat of this summer, but even flourished under demanding conditions.

The roses bloomed later than usual thanks to an unusually cold, wet spring, but when they did, it was an explosion of cream and apricot along our back fences. 

As I write now, 'Ghislaine de Féligonde' on the right is beginning its second flush of bloom, 

while 'Lykkefund' on the left is displaying a myriad of little green rosehips already on their way towards their winter red.

Throughout spring and summer, their unblemished foliage hearkens back to a time before size, colour and constant bloom took precedence over health and fragrance.

The other group of plants that continues to amaze me with their beauty and resilience has been the hydrangeas. 

This year my tree hydrangea (H. aspera var. sargentiana) has continued to make its way upwards, 

and we now have a fine close-up view of its flowers awash with bees as we sit on our high front porch.

In the back garden, the purple foliage of Hydrangea serrata 'Kiyosumi' was a striking feature of the spring garden.

I think I like it better as a foliage plant than a flowering one. The leaves become more green as they mature, and although the summer blooms are attractive, they're not quite as special at a time when there's a lot of competition from other plants.

My smallest H. serrata is  'Amagi-amacha', which is tucked in between two larger shrubs, a Fothergilla and an Oakleaf Hydrangea. Neither give it much competition during its bloom period, which allows its delicate little leaves and white bracts on their short stalks to have pride of place.

Amacha translates as "sweet tea". Apparently the leaves make a concoction that tastes like that.

 

Presumably, H. serrata 'Yae-no-amacha' shares the same attribute, although it's a larger specimen with soft blue double flowers. As my plant is still young, I'm not sure how large it will grow or how generous its bloom will be. I'm wondering if I have it in too much shade and may move it when it's dormant to a sunnier but still sheltered place.

Finally, I have to include Hydrangea. serrata 'Beni'. I've mentioned it before, but this year I remembered to record its transition from a white flower to a red one over just one month. I've put the dates underneath the photos to show the progress of this miraculous transformation.

June 20

 

June 30

July 7

July 17

Summer Review

Time got away from me this year. Summer heat drove me from my desk in the dormer visible behind the roses in the first photo, and I've failed to catch up until now. When I began this entry I was looking back at some plants that not only survived the heat of this summer, but even flourished under demanding conditions.

The roses bloomed later than usual thanks to an unusually cold, wet spring, but when they did, it was an explosion of cream and apricot along our back fences. 

As I write now, 'Ghislaine de Féligonde' on the right is beginning its second flush of bloom, 

while 'Lykkefund' on the left is displaying a myriad of little green rosehips already on their way towards their winter red.

Throughout spring and summer, their unblemished foliage hearkens back to a time before size, colour and constant bloom took precedence over health and fragrance.

The other group of plants that continues to amaze me with their beauty and resilience has been the hydrangeas. 

This year my tree hydrangea (H. aspera var. sargentiana) has continued to make its way upwards, 

and we now have a fine close-up view of its flowers awash with bees as we sit on our high front porch.

In the back garden, the purple foliage of Hydrangea serrata 'Kiyosumi' was a striking feature of the spring garden.

I think I like it better as a foliage plant than a flowering one. The leaves become more green as they mature, and although the summer blooms are attractive, they're not quite as special at a time when there's a lot of competition from other plants.

My smallest H. serrata is  'Amagi-amacha', which is tucked in between two larger shrubs, a Fothergilla and an Oakleaf Hydrangea. Neither give it much competition during its bloom period, which allows its delicate little leaves and white bracts on their short stalks to have pride of place.

Amacha translates as "sweet tea". Apparently the leaves make a concoction that tastes like that.

 

Presumably, H. serrata 'Yae-no-amacha' shares the same attribute, although it's a larger specimen with soft blue double flowers. As my plant is still young, I'm not sure how large it will grow or how generous its bloom will be. I'm wondering if I have it in too much shade and may move it when it's dormant to a sunnier but still sheltered place.

Finally, I have to include Hydrangea. serrata 'Beni'. I've mentioned it before, but this year I remembered to record its transition from a white flower to a red one over just one month. I've put the dates underneath the photos to show the progress of this miraculous transformation.

June 20

 

June 30

July 7

July 17

Topiary with a Purpose

 On the way back from our weekend on the Gulf Islands (see previous post), we came across this strange piece of plant sculpture at the entrance to a lane in the small community of Deep Bay.

Closer inspection revealed the purpose of the window. 

The sign reads: 

FOOTPATH ONLY TO BEACH

NO VEHICLES

I was both amused and impressed. In some communities, local authorities would have chopped down the hedge.

Topiary with a Purpose

 On the way back from our weekend on the Gulf Islands (see previous post), we came across this strange piece of plant sculpture at the entrance to a lane in the small community of Deep Bay.

Closer inspection revealed the purpose of the window. 

The sign reads: 

FOOTPATH ONLY TO BEACH

NO VEHICLES

I was both amused and impressed. In some communities, local authorities would have chopped down the hedge.

Denman Island Garden Tour

 After 2 years with no garden events, the news that the Denman Island Conservancy was preparing to hold their house and garden tour in June was too tempting to miss out on: https://www.denman-conservancy.org/home-and-garden-tour/

As their website states, "Denman Island is located in the Strait of Georgia, British Columbia, Canada. it is a small rural gulf island near the east coast of Vancouver Island."

We were lucky enough to have good friends on nearby Hornby Island and fortunately Lauren and Jim were not only willing to put up with us for the weekend, but were keen to join us on the tour. 

We took the little cable-stayed ferry between the islands to get to their delightful retreat.

Amazingly, after the very wet spring we've been enduring, the weather gods smiled on Denman and the weekend was sunny.

The tour included several open houses as well as their gardens, but although nearly all the houses were beautiful examples of west coast modern style with abundant use of natural wood, I'm only slightly embarrassed to say it was the plants that took all my attention. As Denman has a large resident deer population, most gardens are protected at least in part by fencing, but many also had successful deer-resistant plantings outside the fences.

Given the Island's rural ambience and its issues with water shortages, I thought that this meadow garden approach was both practical and in tune with the surrounding countryside.

Pools were popular elements, and I was intrigued by both the colour of the water and the (home-made?) floating island at one garden.

Several properties were on sloping sites that lent themselves to landscaping on several different levels. It is not surprising that Sandy and Des Kennedy's lovingly-tended garden has graced the pages of many gardening magazines.

I'm envious of the way a large garden can have a great swath of the same plant, in this case a dramatic ornamental onion, perhaps Allium giganteum.

The garden seemed to be having a purple moment and lavender spikes of Dame's Rocket (Hesperis matronalis) scattered throughout provided a satisfying unity to a richly varied tapestry.

Along with ornamental grasses, iris and poppies, it seemed a popular choice for for many islanders. At a different garden, another similar palette complemented another appealing home.

As I was admiring the charming cottage and its adjoining perennial bed, I had an unexpected chance to make friends with a resident cat.

At the end of the day, I was surprised when I looked through my photos that I hadn't taken more. Perhaps I was spoiled because Jim and Lauren had taken us to see the garden of a friend of theirs on Hornby Island the day before the Denman tour. It wasn't just that Eva has an enviable eye for composition and colour, but she also has been tending her garden for many years and that maturity shows as it did in the Kennedy's garden.

As we sat on the beach waiting for the ferry back towards Denman and beyond it to Vancouver Island, I thought that those beautiful gardens and the natural beauty of the BC coast were a combination that few places in the world could rival.