Spring is creeping in slowly on little cat feet. When I drove past my friend Paul's house I saw the fat pussies on his willow by the side of the road. I dashed home to see if my pussywillow was blooming. Both of us have bushes growing in a wet spot, and both produce fat soft pussies. Alas, my bush is just beginning to bloom. Why the difference? Micro-climate? Very different variety?
I haven’t always liked hydrangeas. As a child living in the Bronx, I saw a number of houses on our street wirh tiny yards that held a blue hydrangea or two. In spite of the interesting color and flower heads that everyone called ‘snowballs’ I did not like them. Who can explain dislikes? And the things a child takes against are even more mysterious. Though I rarely saw hydrangeas in gardens as a new gardener, over the past…
There is very little color out in the snowy garden. These last scarlet berries on the highbush cranberry (a native plant) are a dramatic exclamation. I guess I didn't do all the necessary dead heading last summer. This seedcase was left on a tree peony, a remnant of the last season. But look . . . could these be buds on that same tree peony? A promise of the new season? The lilac buds are beginning to swell…
“The garden just grew,” Bruce Aune said with a slight shrug as we sat in his living room and looked out across a still green lawn to a neat curving border. All the perennials had been cut back, but shrubs, evergreen and deciduous, and small trees remained, providing the bones and structure of this garden. While it is true that the garden had changed over time as Bruce and his wife Anne moved into retirement, it had not…
Last weekend my cousin Jay married the beautiful Juliet in a white garden designed by Robin Kramer, the owner of the house where the wedding took place. A summer wedding could ask no more beautiful setting than a white garden such as this. White gardens seem to have a place all their own in garden literature. I suppose one reason is that there are so many flowers, shrubs, vines and trees that bloom in shades of white…
Pam Oakes assures me that neither her house, nor the lush surrounding gardens existed in 1976. When she and her husband Gordon first walked this piece of land by a pond once used for harvesting ice, they could not even imagine where to place a house until a friend bulldozed a stand of sumac and said “Build here!” They did and she said it is a perfect site. The gardens grew and continue to grow. Oakes said…
Midsummer Morning One big white peony enough for a bouquet. by Carol Purington My tree peony blossom is pink, but it is big enough for a bouquet. Carol's haiku are so evocative that I must include another on this Muse Day Monday. End of the row The child's strawberry basket still empty. This haiku seems to me a perfect depiction of a child's innocent greediness and the sweetness of summer. Thank you Carolyn…
What a celebratory weekend. All due honor has been paid to our veterans, and even the tree peony has joined in those solemnities. Appropropriately, she is named (in translation) The Face of the Goddess of Compassion. This year she has nine blossoms, each about 7 inches across. Next to Guan Yin is another tree peony, planted at the same time, about 5 or 6 years ago (the relevant journal has gone missing) but she is smaller and will have…