Sliding into May

What happened to April? All growth was on hold, as the unusually warm weather of March returned to cooler temperatures.  Exceptions were the old pear tree,

 and the espaliered apples.

We've long since given up expecting anything edible from the pear, but we keep it for the structure it gives to the garden. The apples, on the other hand, gave us a basket full of fruit last year and look set to do the same this year.,

Once May began, everything moved ahead once more. In the front garden, Royal Azalea (Rhododendron schlippenbachii, for those who like a tongue-twister) opened its candy floss pink flowers that team so nicely with the crisp green foliage.

Shortly after, came the Ballerina tulips.  I'm not a big fan of orange, but these sultry beauties are so elegant on  their tall stems and blend so well with the surrounding greenery that I keep buying more.

Now I have a young Enkianthus 'Red Bells' to keep them company.

The flowers on both come later than the azalea and die away before they can clash with some other soft pink shades that follow on the surrounding plants.

Across the sidewalk a few plants in my boulevard beds are doing better than expected. Centaurea 'Amethyst in Snow' is possibly going to get too vigorous as it loves the dry, poor soil there.

Meanwhile on the other side of the house, shade-lovers are demanding attention in their subtle way. Arisaema ringens is outgrowing its pot, but still managing a good show. 

You can see where I've cut away a few leaves so that the curious flowers are easier to see.

Close beside it is Disporum 'Night Heron', which is now tall enough to be noticeable. It's a graceful plant, surprisingly striking with its contrast of small, pale green flowers and dark-stained foliage.

At the right side of that image are more dark leaves on Hydrangea 'Kumasaka'.

And further along, the buds of Allium siculum rising through the speckled leaves of Podophyllum 'Spotty Dotty' complete the green and purple composition.

Hosta 'American Halo' under the pear tree is unfurling too. Its leaves bring an echo of pale sunshine to another shady area. 

 The other excitement of May was the appearance of a raccoon in broad daylight, making her way through the garden from front to back several times. I managed a blurry photo of her on one of her return journeys through the next door yard.

We realized that she was transferring her babies away from the house across the street, having a sixth sense of what was about to happen there.

Sliding into May

What happened to April? All growth was on hold, as the unusually warm weather of March returned to cooler temperatures.  Exceptions were the old pear tree,

 and the espaliered apples.

We've long since given up expecting anything edible from the pear, but we keep it for the structure it gives to the garden. The apples, on the other hand, gave us a basket full of fruit last year and look set to do the same this year.,

Once May began, everything moved ahead once more. In the front garden, Royal Azalea (Rhododendron schlippenbachii, for those who like a tongue-twister) opened its candy floss pink flowers that team so nicely with the crisp green foliage.

Shortly after, came the Ballerina tulips.  I'm not a big fan of orange, but these sultry beauties are so elegant on  their tall stems and blend so well with the surrounding greenery that I keep buying more.

Now I have a young Enkianthus 'Red Bells' to keep them company.

The flowers on both come later than the azalea and die away before they can clash with some other soft pink shades that follow on the surrounding plants.

Across the sidewalk a few plants in my boulevard beds are doing better than expected. Centaurea 'Amethyst in Snow' is possibly going to get too vigorous as it loves the dry, poor soil there.

Meanwhile on the other side of the house, shade-lovers are demanding attention in their subtle way. Arisaema ringens is outgrowing its pot, but still managing a good show. 

You can see where I've cut away a few leaves so that the curious flowers are easier to see.

Close beside it is Disporum 'Night Heron', which is now tall enough to be noticeable. It's a graceful plant, surprisingly striking with its contrast of small, pale green flowers and dark-stained foliage.

At the right side of that image are more dark leaves on Hydrangea 'Kumasaka'.

And further along, the buds of Allium siculum rising through the speckled leaves of Podophyllum 'Spotty Dotty' complete the green and purple composition.

Hosta 'American Halo' under the pear tree is unfurling too. Its leaves bring an echo of pale sunshine to another shady area. 

 The other excitement of May was the appearance of a raccoon in broad daylight, making her way through the garden from front to back several times. I managed a blurry photo of her on one of her return journeys through the next door yard.

We realized that she was transferring her babies away from the house across the street, having a sixth sense of what was about to happen there.

March Marches In

March was such an unusually warm and sunny month that I couldn't chain myself to the computer to record the awakening of the early perennials, so here I am doing it in May.

Corylopsis pauciflora is always reliable and a much more graceful harbinger of spring than the ubiquitous Forsythia

In the shade at its feet, barely visible as a dark blur in the above photo, is Hellebore 'Harlequin Gem', now starting to become a substantial plant. Its inky blooms contrast well with the Corylopsis above it.

Of course, many of the hellebores were pushing through the last of the snow in February.
Since I've recorded them in detail in previous years, I'm just going to
add one more this time.

'Peppermint Ice' is always an eye catcher.

 This year a white self-sown seedling has bloomed beside it and I like the contrast.

Meanwhile, across the garden Salix gracilistyla 'Melanocarpa' is flourishing.

'Melanocarpa' means black berry but it's the young catkins that are black (with red tips.) As they age they turn, like many of us, to silver-grey. Both stages contrast well with the reddish stems.



Narcissus 'Jack Snipe' has now taken over  from 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' ".  The flowers are pretty and shapely but it's beginning to be more work, as it multiplies fast and the clumps are getting too large for their allotted space.

Added to that, the foliage hangs around afterwards looking increasingly shabby, and you can't cut it back because it's feeding next year's flowers. Last year I tried my usual trick of planting a perennial that will emerge and screen the collapsing leaves, but so far it's not working: the perennial I chose is still dormant!

Time for a re-think.

March Marches In

March was such an unusually warm and sunny month that I couldn't chain myself to the computer to record the awakening of the early perennials, so here I am doing it in May.

Corylopsis pauciflora is always reliable and a much more graceful harbinger of spring than the ubiquitous Forsythia

In the shade at its feet, barely visible as a dark blur in the above photo, is Hellebore 'Harlequin Gem', now starting to become a substantial plant. Its inky blooms contrast well with the Corylopsis above it.

Of course, many of the hellebores were pushing through the last of the snow in February. Since I've recorded them in detail in previous years, I'm just going to add one more this time.

'Peppermint Ice' is always an eye catcher.

 This year a white self-sown seedling has bloomed beside it and I like the contrast.

Meanwhile, across the garden Salix gracilistyla 'Melanocarpa' is flourishing.

'Melanocarpa' means black berry but it's the young catkins that are black (with red tips.) As they age they turn, like many of us, to silver-grey. Both stages contrast well with the reddish stems.

Narcissus 'Jack Snipe' has now taken over  from 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' ".  The flowers are pretty and shapely but it's beginning to be more work, as it multiplies fast and the clumps are getting too large for their allotted space.

Added to that, the foliage hangs around afterwards looking increasingly shabby, and you can't cut it back because it's feeding next year's flowers. Last year I tried my usual trick of planting a perennial that will emerge and screen the collapsing leaves, but so far it's not working: the perennial I chose is still dormant!
Time for a re-think.

February Snow

After two weeks of warm sunshine and blue skies in Mexico, it was a shock to return to snow in Vancouver, even though it did look pretty.

 By mid-February I'm normally enjoying the display of small bulbs like snowdrops, snow crocus and winter aconites, but of course they are all buried.

There's one exception. The ever-reliable Narcissus 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' is living up to its name and boldly pushing its cheerful yellow flowers up through the sugary crust, reminding me to order more and spread them around to enjoy at this low point in the year.

 

February Snow

After two weeks of warm sunshine and blue skies in Mexico, it was a shock to return to snow in Vancouver, even though it did look pretty.

 By mid-February I'm normally enjoying the display of small bulbs like snowdrops, snow crocus and winter aconites, but of course they are all buried.

There's one exception. The ever-reliable Narcissus 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' is living up to its name and boldly pushing its cheerful yellow flowers up through the sugary crust, reminding me to order more and spread them around to enjoy at this low point in the year.

 

2019 BEGINS

The first days of the new year saw me cutting back dying perennial stalks and seedheads, and raking dead leaves from around some of the shrubs. We are urged to let the leaves remain on the ground to rot and add more nutrients to the soil, but I have several problems with that. 

The most significant one is thanks to the city arborists who years ago planted a sycamore maple  in front of my house. Every fall it sheds a gazillion winged seeds into my garden where they cluster in the crowns of tender plants like hellebores and peonies.

 If I don't remove them, every one will sprout and have to be hand-pulled, often breaking off the tiny new buds of the perennials.

Then there is the number of slugs that shelter and lay eggs under the carpet of leaves. Finally, there is the disease factor. My roses are healthy, but they will only stay that way if I ensure that any lurking blackspot spores on fallen leaves are not there to infect new foliage.

Besides, early ephemerals are already pushing their way up and I'd like to make their progress towards bloom as easy as possible. Leaf blades of snowdrops and snow crocus are already above ground, but winter aconites are always the first to open their cheery little flowers.

Hellebores are in bud and some are even opening their flowers.

'Cherry Blossom' is ahead of the others, and 'Frilly Kitty' has one open flower.

But 'Rachel' and 'Pink Frost' are not far behind.

Elsewhere, I find pleasure in small moments, like a briefly blue sky behind the seedpods on Stewartia pseudocamellia.

Or a ray of sunlight catching the trunk of Acer griseum, the paperbark maple.

Or even the mustard-yellow young stems and buds of Swiss willow (Salix helvetica),