Autumn Colours

 I haven't posted many summer photos because I'd only be repeating what I've recorded in previous years - a sign that the garden is maturing after ten years of cultivation.

However, changes are coming this winter so I'll probably have a few different plants to highlight next year.

Meanwhile, in my ongoing quest to create a garden that offers year-round interest, I've been slowly adding more plants that offer fall interest. In fact, this October has been more vibrant than ever.

As always the back garden is dominated by the brilliant blue of the late blooming monkshood, Aconitum carmichaelii 'Arendsii'. Closer to the house, my dwarf oakleaf hydrangea has turned red and gold, and gets an echo in the back corner from the red leaves of Stewartia pseudocamellia and the blueberry beside it. 

In front of the old pear tree, Hosta 'Krossa Regal' has turned lemon yellow and is beginning to flop. 

By November other hostas in this shady bed are turning yellow too and adding a suggestion of sunlight in this shady area.

In the corner by the house, there's another golden echo from Corylopsis pauciflora, which has swapped its pale yellow blooms of spring for its rich gold leaves of autumn, just as the purple of  Aster 'Monch' below begins to fade.

Meanwhile, out front, the sycamore maples on the street, which usually turn a dull brown, are showing brighter colour than usual - just in time for Halloween.

Autumn Colours

 I haven't posted many summer photos because I'd only be repeating what I've recorded in previous years - a sign that the garden is maturing after ten years of cultivation.

However, changes are coming this winter so I'll probably have a few different plants to highlight next year.

Meanwhile, in my ongoing quest to create a garden that offers year-round interest, I've been slowly adding more plants that offer fall interest. In fact, this October has been more vibrant than ever.

As always the back garden is dominated by the brilliant blue of the late blooming monkshood, Aconitum carmichaelii 'Arendsii'. Closer to the house, my dwarf oakleaf hydrangea has turned red and gold, and gets an echo in the back corner from the red leaves of Stewartia pseudocamellia and the blueberry beside it. 

In front of the old pear tree, Hosta 'Krossa Regal' has turned lemon yellow and is beginning to flop. 

By November other hostas in this shady bed are turning yellow too and adding a suggestion of sunlight in this shady area.

In the corner by the house, there's another golden echo from Corylopsis pauciflora, which has swapped its pale yellow blooms of spring for its rich gold leaves of autumn, just as the purple of  Aster 'Monch' below begins to fade.

Meanwhile, out front, the sycamore maples on the street, which usually turn a dull brown, are showing brighter colour than usual - just in time for Halloween.

Summer Whites

 Gardens are rich in many different colours during the summer months, but just to continue the colour theme I started in April, I'm going to focus on white for this post. 

Ranuculus aconitifolius 'Flore Pleno'is a long name for a small button of a flower. What it lacks in individual size, however, it makes up for in generosity of blooms.

Although it is a member of the buttercup family, it doesn't run. I have two plants side by side each making a sturdy clump that remains quite narrow at the base while spreading twice as wide at the top to make a cloud of bloom. I find that quite a few white flowers turn an unattractive pink as they age, but this perennial stays fresh-looking right until it starts to die. Various sources recommend it for boggy areas and it could probably use more water than it gets in my garden, but it doesn't seem to mind.

Brightening the shade garden in late June, Gillenia trifoliata spreads its constellation of dainty white stars over its lower neighbours. Reddish stems and calyces only heighten its pristine effect. It was a surprise to learn that it's a member of the rose family.

By the end of July it will have completed its bloom cycle and be overpowered in its turn by  the dark leaves of Actea 'Hillside Black Beauty' and the pleated green ones of Hosta 'Krossa Regal'.

Also enjoying the shade is Astrantia major, whose flowers have a more substantial presence. The stamens start out pink but gradually turn greenish-white like the central flower in this cluster. 

This particular plant is self-sown as the Astrantia family is inclined to do, but plants that will flower in dark corners are not common and its easy to edit out unwanted seedlings.

Another shade lover is my tree hydrangea (Hydrangea aspera ssp. sargentiana) Its flowers are actually the tiny purple dots in the centre, but I'm including it here for the fringe of pristine white bracts that give each bloom the look of an exploding firework.

Rosa 'Lykkefund' prefers bright sunshine. Every year it extends its reach along the west fence, casting its powerful scent across the whole garden on warm summer evenings.  Huge trusses of flowers cascade down behind whatever is blooming below. Here they are providing a backdrop to a stand of electric blue aconites.

Although the effect is of a white curtain, a close inspection of individual flowers shows them to have  golden stamens and pale salmon-pink buds.

Across the garden on the east fence, Clematis 'Huldine' also provides a curtain of white. Like the rose its buds are deceptive, being striped in two shades of pink, but as the flowers open to show only their upper surfaces, they glisten satin-white in the sunshine.

Also enjoying the sun is Stewartia pseudocamellia. It's easy to see how this tall slender tree got the pseudocamellia part of its name as soon as it flowers. Some people call it poached egg tree but I feel that doesn't do justice to the elegant fringed white flowers that do indeed imitate camellias.

Giant clover (Trifolium ochroleucum) grows beneath it and flowers at the same time. It's a bit of a stretch to call it white since the flowers are partly green and the petals quite quickly turn to cream but for a little while it fits the description.

It is makes a sturdy clump that needs dividing every few years, but is not at all invasive like some of its cousins. 

The same can't be said of Eryngium giganteum, the giant thistle better known as Miss Willmott's Ghost. This biennial plant is inclined to seed itself around, and small offspring have to be pulled out before their tenacious tap roots get too strong a grip. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful sight in flower, perhaps more silver and green than white.

Harvested and allowed to dry naturally, the flowers make excellent additions to dried flower arrangements, slowly turning the colour of old linen.

Summer Whites

 Gardens are rich in many different colours during the summer months, but just to continue the colour theme I started in April, I'm going to focus on white for this post. 

Ranuculus aconitifolius 'Flore Pleno'is a long name for a small button of a flower. What it lacks in individual size, however, it makes up for in generosity of blooms.

Although it is a member of the buttercup family, it doesn't run. I have two plants side by side each making a sturdy clump that remains quite narrow at the base while spreading twice as wide at the top to make a cloud of bloom. I find that quite a few white flowers turn an unattractive pink as they age, but this perennial stays fresh-looking right until it starts to die. Various sources recommend it for boggy areas and it could probably use more water than it gets in my garden, but it doesn't seem to mind.

Brightening the shade garden in late June, Gillenia trifoliata spreads its constellation of dainty white stars over its lower neighbours. Reddish stems and calyces only heighten its pristine effect. It was a surprise to learn that it's a member of the rose family.

By the end of July it will have completed its bloom cycle and be overpowered in its turn by  the dark leaves of Actea 'Hillside Black Beauty' and the pleated green ones of Hosta 'Krossa Regal'.

Also enjoying the shade is Astrantia major, whose flowers have a more substantial presence. The stamens start out pink but gradually turn greenish-white like the central flower in this cluster. 

This particular plant is self-sown as the Astrantia family is inclined to do, but plants that will flower in dark corners are not common and its easy to edit out unwanted seedlings.

Another shade lover is my tree hydrangea (Hydrangea aspera ssp. sargentiana) Its flowers are actually the tiny purple dots in the centre, but I'm including it here for the fringe of pristine white bracts that give each bloom the look of an exploding firework.

Rosa 'Lykkefund' prefers bright sunshine. Every year it extends its reach along the west fence, casting its powerful scent across the whole garden on warm summer evenings.  Huge trusses of flowers cascade down behind whatever is blooming below. Here they are providing a backdrop to a stand of electric blue aconites.

Although the effect is of a white curtain, a close inspection of individual flowers shows them to have  golden stamens and pale salmon-pink buds.

Across the garden on the east fence, Clematis 'Huldine' also provides a curtain of white. Like the rose its buds are deceptive, being striped in two shades of pink, but as the flowers open to show only their upper surfaces, they glisten satin-white in the sunshine.

Also enjoying the sun is Stewartia pseudocamellia. It's easy to see how this tall slender tree got the pseudocamellia part of its name as soon as it flowers. Some people call it poached egg tree but I feel that doesn't do justice to the elegant fringed white flowers that do indeed imitate camellias.

Giant clover (Trifolium ochroleucum) grows beneath it and flowers at the same time. It's a bit of a stretch to call it white since the flowers are partly green and the petals quite quickly turn to cream but for a little while it fits the description.

It is makes a sturdy clump that needs dividing every few years, but is not at all invasive like some of its cousins. 

The same can't be said of Eryngium giganteum, the giant thistle better known as Miss Willmott's Ghost. This biennial plant is inclined to seed itself around, and small offspring have to be pulled out before their tenacious tap roots get too strong a grip. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful sight in flower, perhaps more silver and green than white.

Harvested and allowed to dry naturally, the flowers make excellent additions to dried flower arrangements, slowly turning the colour of old linen.

MAYTIME BLUES

 If April is yellow, then May is blue - at least, it is in my garden.

One of the most vibrant blues comes from Geranium 'Terre Franche', whose wiry flower stems rise above a compact clump of contrasting green foliage.

Close by, spikes of Salvia officinalis, the familiar kitchen sage, bloom in similar colours but contrasting shape.

It may not be quite as attractive to me as the geranium, but it is certainly more so to the bees that bustle around it. A single hummingbird is another daily visitor. This year both the sage and the geranium have been particularly luxuriant and I've had to pin them from back from competing to block the narrow path that divides them.

Iris pallida 'Variegata' is worth having for just for its decorative leaves, and becomes even more dramatic when its blue flowers open.

 It's now such a large clump that I'm making a note to divide it this winter. The only problem is going to be where to find space for the extras.

To the left of it, a quite different iris, less showy but to my eyes more elegant, is sending slim spears of flowers up behind our little water feature. It came to me unnamed but I think it is Iris sibirica 'Shaker's Prayer'. That's a lovely name so until I hear otherwise that's what I'm calling it.

I have three clumps of it that, with the bamboo screening behind, give a slightly Japanese air to this corner of the garden. It's a shy bloomer for me because it's in shade for at least half a day. Ideally it would like more sun.

A bolder combination occupies a dominant position in the middle of the garden. The lime-tinted leaves of oakleaf hydrangea 'Sikes Dwarf' look as if they have suddenly sprouted large cobalt-blue flowers. 

In fact, these blooms belong to Clematis x durandii which is planted underneath. This clematis lacks the clinging tendrils of most vining clematis and needs a host like the hydrangea to scramble through. The two plants combine so well that visitors are occasionally fooled into thinking it a single plant.

Ajuga reptans has the mystifying common name of Bugle. A vigorous spreader, it's perfect for my sidewalk garden, which is home to various plants too enthusiastic for the main garden. 

Anything that will survive in these dry beds, infested by roots from the street maple, is welcome here.

There are few plants that will cope with all-day shade but one that seems unfazed is Corydalis temulifolia 'Chocolate Stars'. Its pale blue tubular flowers are floppy, but they brighten a gloomy corner on the north side of the house. 

By the time it blooms, the foliage is a tender green so you might wonder at the name. However, the reason for it is not so much the flowers but the emerging foliage, which I've celebrated in an earlier post.

 

It used to be called Corydalis quantmeyeriana and is still occasionally sold under that name, but this is a rare instance where the nomenclature experts have given us a shorter, more pronounceable name than the old one.

A last contender in the blue range is ice-blue Amsonia hubrichtii. 

It's unusual to find flowers this pale and it needs a suitable companion not to look washed out, so I'm happy to find it a good companion for the muted pink flowers of Astrantia 'Roma'. 

In the fall, the Amsonia's feathery leaves will turn golden, making it a really good two-season addition to the garden.

MAYTIME BLUES

 If April is yellow, then May is blue - at least, it is in my garden.

One of the most vibrant blues comes from Geranium 'Terre Franche', whose wiry flower stems rise above a compact clump of contrasting green foliage.

Close by, spikes of Salvia officinalis, the familiar kitchen sage, bloom in similar colours but contrasting shape.

It may not be quite as attractive to me as the geranium, but it is certainly more so to the bees that bustle around it. A single hummingbird is another daily visitor. This year both the sage and the geranium have been particularly luxuriant and I've had to pin them from back from competing to block the narrow path that divides them.

Iris pallida 'Variegata' is worth having for just for its decorative leaves, and becomes even more dramatic when its blue flowers open.

 It's now such a large clump that I'm making a note to divide it this winter. The only problem is going to be where to find space for the extras.

To the left of it, a quite different iris, less showy but to my eyes more elegant, is sending slim spears of flowers up behind our little water feature. It came to me unnamed but I think it is Iris sibirica 'Shaker's Prayer'. That's a lovely name so until I hear otherwise that's what I'm calling it.

I have three clumps of it that, with the bamboo screening behind, give a slightly Japanese air to this corner of the garden. It's a shy bloomer for me because it's in shade for at least half a day. Ideally it would like more sun.

A bolder combination occupies a dominant position in the middle of the garden. The lime-tinted leaves of oakleaf hydrangea 'Sikes Dwarf' look as if they have suddenly sprouted large cobalt-blue flowers. 

In fact, these blooms belong to Clematis x durandii which is planted underneath. This clematis lacks the clinging tendrils of most vining clematis and needs a host like the hydrangea to scramble through. The two plants combine so well that visitors are occasionally fooled into thinking it a single plant.

Ajuga reptans has the mystifying common name of Bugle. A vigorous spreader, it's perfect for my sidewalk garden, which is home to various plants too enthusiastic for the main garden. 

Anything that will survive in these dry beds, infested by roots from the street maple, is welcome here.

There are few plants that will cope with all-day shade but one that seems unfazed is Corydalis temulifolia 'Chocolate Stars'. Its pale blue tubular flowers are floppy, but they brighten a gloomy corner on the north side of the house. 

By the time it blooms, the foliage is a tender green so you might wonder at the name. However, the reason for it is not so much the flowers but the emerging foliage, which I've celebrated in an earlier post.

 

It used to be called Corydalis quantmeyeriana and is still occasionally sold under that name, but this is a rare instance where the nomenclature experts have given us a shorter, more pronounceable name than the old one.

A last contender in the blue range is ice-blue Amsonia hubrichtii. 

It's unusual to find flowers this pale and it needs a suitable companion not to look washed out, so I'm happy to find it a good companion for the muted pink flowers of Astrantia 'Roma'. 

In the fall, the Amsonia's feathery leaves will turn golden, making it a really good two-season addition to the garden.