The first buds are the sweetest...

After a couple of crazy days away doing book stuff, it was so good to get home last night, even driving in fog and rain. This morning we woke to more fog and more rain, but when I looked out the window as I drank my coffee, I spied something...

The first snowdrop.

Jubilation reigned.

Midweek Farch Miscellany: Ice, cold, and dreams of daffodils

Trying to be optimistic here, as we have had two outbursts of really bad weather in the past 5 days. This has resulted in more snow, but also bouts of rain and freezing rain, resulting in a glacier in most of the yard. The good news is, the snow isn't blowing around. The bad news is...the horse and donkey would need ice skates crossed with snowshoes to be able to cope with being outdoors. So they are barn-grumpy.

Still, there is plenty of beauty to behold, like these seedheads of inula against a wintery sky...

A Little Midwinter Miscellany

Most of the time, I don't mind winter. I really don't. It's an important part of life in much of North America, and it's crucial for both the garden and the gardener. It's a time for plants to rest, and gardeners to look back at what we have done in the past, and look ahead at what we plan for the future. It's a good season for catching up on our reading.

However...the past two weeks have been a bit much, and this week in particular has been so over the top as to be absurd. We are not just blanketed in snow: we are quilted, duveted, down-comfortered and Arctic-sleepingbagged with the stuff. It's not just a few inches deep--it's a few FEET deep. As in this drift, which is well over four feet tall and extends across the back of the garden.

Not-so Wordless Wednesday: Wondrous Winter Wings

One of the best parts of winter is the arrival of the snow buntings, also known as 'snowbirds'. These charming little songbirds are a very good excuse for me to hide behind a curtain in the house, trying to photograph them through snow- and salt-splashed windows. (It was far too cold the past couple of days to go outside and hang around trying to stalk these little guys.)

Snow buntings prefer open ground, and you will see drifts of them along roadsides, in farm fields, or large open spaces like we have at our property. They are not often seen in cities, for obvious reasons. Neither am I, though, so I can relate to them. They're also really, REALLY skittish, so I was pleased to get as decent shots as I did. They land on the west side of our barn roof, and start working their way up to the peak...

The return of the native...plant!

(Hepatica nobilis (liverwort) flowers in spring.

Followup note, Wednesday: I think we'll be continuing the discussion on natives for at least another post or two, but in the meantime, for a really good look at natives in Nova Scotia, do visit the website for the Harriet Irving Botanical Gardens, at Acadia University in nearby Wolfville.

Some time ago, I was asked if I would do a post here explaining the difference between native and naturalized plants, as well as one on hybrids vs heirlooms. We plant geeks tend to bandy around such terms with such familiarity that we assume everyone has that same familiarity, which isn’t the case.

Aquilegia canadensis, Canada columbine

What defines a native plant? If something is native to an area, it means it was born or naturally occurring in that specific area. To compare myself to a plant, I was born in Newfoundland, so I’m a native of that fine and lovely province. However, I’ve lived most of my life to date in my parents’ home province of Nova Scotia, so I’m a naturalized Nova Scotian.

Hamamelis virginiana, native witchhazel

Plants may, of course, be native to more than one area, but I tend to go with Allan Armitage’s definition of something being native to North America. Thus although ironweed isn’t native to Nova Scotia, it is native to much of North America, and that’s good enough for me.

Yellow form of red-osier dogwood showing twigs in winter. (Cornus sericea 'Flaviramea')

Let's get something clear right now: I love many, many native plants, and have dozens of them on my property, but I am absolutely NOT a purist who wants only natives in my garden.

A native white spruce (Picea glauca) along the border of our property.

The gardening world is rife with discussion on this topic, with many people considering it heresy to use anything BUT natives in their gardens. That’s fine for those who want to be militant, but that’s not me. And I love cultivars that have been developed using native plants, like the glorious echinaceas that have sprung from crossing native species such as E. purpurea and E. paradoxa.

Amelanchier foliage and flowers in spring.

Again, I bow to the wisdom of Allan Armitage, who in his fabulous book Armitage’s Native Plants for North American Gardens (Timber Press) observes,

“Cultivars are the gardeners’ candy store. If you like purple coneflower, a dozen choices now await you. Should cultivars be called native? I don’t know—should rap be called music? It is simply a matter of opinion. I believe garden-improved cultivars, both selections and hybrids, will only help mainstream gardeners further embrace the world of native plants.”

The flowers and foliage of bunchberry, Cornus canadensis.

Why choose native plants to add to your garden? Often they are very well adapted to local growing conditions and tougher than introduced species, but you do have to exercise common sense. Plant a Canada holly (Ilex verticillata) in a dry area of your garden, and it will not thrive, any more than white pine (Pinus strobus) will be happy beside the seashore. You have to site them where they do best. Happily, there are native plants for every growing condition.

Labrador violets, Viola labradorica
Many natives are low maintenance, not requiring a lot of pruning and fertilizing and other pampering to do well—when situated in the right conditions, again. Some are drought resistant, while others are suited for wet, or shady, or heavy clay, or seashore situations.

The delicate flowers and foliage of bluestar, Amsonia tabernaemontana.
Many are disease and pest resistant, (but not necessarily disease and pest proof). You’ll often hear them touted as requiring less in the way of pesticides, but in my garden, nothing gets any sort of pesticide, organic or conventional, so it’s not an argument I’m going to make.

Bee on flower of swamp milkweed, Asclepias incarnata.

Quite often native pollinators, birds, and other types of wildlife have not adapted to using introduced/naturalized species for food purposes, so this is another great reason to include native species of trees, shrubs, and perennials in your plantings.

Waxwings feeding on the fruit of the American elder, Sambucus canadensis

Of course, there are always exceptions to this—think again of that humble dandelion, which many people curse but which provides nutrients for many a pollinator in early spring.

Flowers of highbush cranberry, Viburnum trilobum.

I hope that you’ll consider adding some native plants to your garden, although you may find, with a little research, that you already have quite a few in your plantings.

Joe Pye Weed, Eupatorium maculatum.

I’m not going to preach at anyone—I don’t like it when I am preached at, so I try not to do it to anyone else.

Red trillium, T. erectum.

My job is to give information to other gardeners, and it's up to you what you do with it. I just hope you’ll enjoy whatever you plant, wherever you plant it!

Remember when Duckies went a-courting?

You may remember that a few weeks ago on Wordless Wednesday, I posted a photo of Mr. and Mrs. Wild Mallard, feeding in the back yard.

LongSuffering Spouse started hollering at me a little while ago, to come quickly. So I unfolded myself from my office chair where I was wrestling with an article, and lurched out into the kitchen to see what he was excited about.

Aha. Mrs. Wild Mallard had brought the children up to have a feed. You can imagine how proud we are, as proxy godparents (feeders of many wild birds around here).

Eleven babies. They're more than a week old, I would say, given their size; this is the first time I've seen her bring them up, and they knew just what to do.

And they also know to obey their mama when she says it's time to go back down to the pond, too.

I shot these pics through the bathroom window, so they're slightly obscured by raindrops (hurray!! for rain!!) and glass. But you get the point. I'm still grinning. So is LSS, who announced while I was downloading the photos that Mrs. Mallard had just put the run to a crow who was coming in for a feed too. She's sassy. I'm glad the courting paid off.

Extraordinary Light, Petals and Feathers

There's nothing like a computer disaster to throw one's carefully organized work schedule right out the window. And unlike those Gen Xers and Yers (Is that a word) whose dexterity with texting on phone keyboards is phenomenal, I'm not much of one for writing using only my thumbs. So I've fallen way behind with reading blogs, posting to my own, and so on. To say nothing of my own work. Happily, my period of being electronically unhorsed is over and tomorrow is a holiday, meaning I can do a marathon of catching up.

Being in electronic pergatory for a few days didn't deter me from poking around the gardens, stalking flowers and feathers and foliage with my cameras--when it wasn't too windy, or too foggy, or too late in the day. The other night, things just conspired together to work rather nicely, and I spent some time looking at leaves with sunlight filtering through, as with the katsura foliage above.

In probably all of the rest of Nova Scotia, the shadbush (Amelanchier) has finished flowering--mine, however, is just at the peak of its bloom. This is one of my favourite native species, and for those who like a large shrub/small tree with three strong seasons of interest, the amelanchier is an exquisite choice. Bronze foliage in spring, dainty white flowers that turn into tasty purple-blue fruit (if you get to them before the birds do), great fall colour--what's not to love?

Another native that does my heart good, this one a perennial--Solomon's seal, Polygonatum. The hummingbirds love this perennial, which spreads slowly to form elegant colonies. At least, it spreads slowly in my garden--I would actually not complain if it picked up the pace a little!

Many of you ooohed and ahhhed over my photo of the opening flower on my tree peony; they're such ephemeral beauties, as tonight, the petals are beginning to drop from my plant. This is supposed to be 'Kinkaku', which has flowers rather coppery coloured and similar to the nonstop begonia 'Fire'. This isn't Kinkaku; possibly it's High Noon? Any ideas? (It came mislabeled from the nursery, so it's a mystery to us. )

Proving that biggest flowers aren't necessarily the best, the charming blooms of my tiny epimedium 'Lilafee' have now opened. I hope this one spreads like gangbusters, because as I wrote in an earlier post, I'm crazy about epimediums, and 'Lilafee' is small-but-mightily beautiful.

My cushion spurges are erupting into their full glory as well. Above is 'Lacey', one I've had for four or five years now. I love its cool bicolour foliage against the acid yellow flowers and bracts.

And this is 'Bonfire', and it's puzzling me somewhat. At both my mother's and at another friend's, this plant has a lot more golden-orange to its flowers than does mine, which is as you can see distinctly avid yellow against the purple lower foliage. Maybe it's a soil acidity thing; maybe mine is just so newly opened whereas the others have been open longer. I'm going to watch, because I'm curious that way.

Five years ago, I bought this spring flowering perennial sweet pea from Lloyd Mapplebeck in Truro--I believe the correct name is Lathyrus vernus. It's not fragrant, it doesn't want to be divided (having that typical legume tap root) but hummingbirds zip to it and it makes a happy burst of purple-blue in my front garden.

There are a lot of courting songbirds (and other birds) in our gardens these days, although we don't think we've seen this Rose breasted grosbeak's mate yet. He certainly does enjoy our feeders, though!

Last Sunday, the male hummingbirds arrived, and demanded we get our feeders up for them, STAT! We happily did that, and they've been feasting at the feeders as well as on spring blooms since then. We saw the first females on Thursday, so we can expect lots of aerial displays, acrobatics, squeaking and battles as the courting and family making goes into high gear.

Spring is such a perfect season. Even when it's windy, or foggy. I hope all of you are enjoying spring as much as I am. Most days, that is.

Wordless Wednesday: Duckies went a-courtin' in our backyard, uh huh!

Wordless Wednesday: March goes out with hummingbird dreams of summer

Skywatch Friday: Winter Sundown, Watchful Owl

Finally, a winter sky worthy of offering up for Skywatch Friday. We have had a few decent weather days this past week, although some afternoons the clouds roll in by day's end as if the sun is winter weary and needs to go to sleep earlier than his prescribed bedtime. The other evening, however, my Longsuffering Spouse and I were both struck by two things. One, that the days were getting noticeably longer, and two, that the sunsets were moving back across the horizon further to the west. LSS, a retired fisherman and inveterate skywatcher, always notices when the sun starts setting further and further to the west, across the back of our property line. We've months to go before it reaches its farthest point and starts moving back again, of course. But as the days grow longer, my outlook grows more cheery. And I grow busier, too.


This afternoon when I got home, LSS was out in the paddock bringing in Leggo and Jenny for the night, and when he saw me he got very excited. As soon as the animals were in, he eagerly dragged me out to the end of the driveway and pointed down the road to a 'blog' sitting on a telephone wire. "We had this owl here this morning!" he said excitedly. "He sat in that dying tree in the back yard and watched me as I put the horse out, and watched me fill the bird feeders, too. And when we came back from the woodlot, he was down there on the wire."

I got into the car and sneaked casually down the road and sure enough, there was a barred owl sitting on the wire, back to the road. I took a few photos from inside the car, while he--or she--looked over my way a few times but seemed unalarmed. I very quietly got out of the car, and the head swung right around to look at me, and I froze, and the owl stayed put. I took a few more photos as I edged closer, and then I took one step too many, because Owl looked at me, clacked his beak once, and took off, flying over my head and down into the woods. It was a very cool experience.

A friend of mine has been building owl nesting boxes and has promised us one, which we'll somehow put up in one of the big old spruces further down our property line. Barred owls are native here and while we hear them in the woods around our place all the time, I haven't seen one this close for a while. I hope he has a taste for starlings, as there has been a small flock hanging around our place, and I dislike starlings.

This has been a busy week, and I've yet to have time to finish two posts that I've been working on; one sharing my latest adventures, the other one far more important as it pertains to encouraging other bloggers. I'm always glad to be busy, but I'll get that latter post up this weekend sometime. I'll be interested to see what the response is.

post written by jodi (bloomingwriter)

Sir Mungus of Anjou and the Eagles

It's no secret to regular readers of bloomingwriter that we are owned by seven amusing cats, the most amusing--and I swear, intelligent--of whom is Mungus. Or, after his little performance yesterday, Sir Mungus of Angou. He celebrated the fact that I brought home some really fine Anjou pears from a local farm market by laying on the bag, nuzzling the pears, and sprawling ON them.

Now, If there was nowhere else in the entire house for him to lay and rest, he would throw a riotous hissy fit worthy of Garfield or Bill-the-Cat if we tried to prevail upon him to lay on the pear bag. I wasn't quick enough to snap him trying to bite one of the pears, but he decided that they were an ideal place to rest. Perhaps they are used for acu-pear-ssure and relieve the weary muscles of hardworking felines.
Did I happen to mention that Mungus is, PEARhaps, a bit of a ham-cat? He also likes to prevent the reading of the newspaper on a regular basis, which given the sad state of the newspaper really isn't a huge loss.

Since this is normally a garden-related blog, here's a gratuitous photo of Yet. Another. Amaryllis. This is the double-flowered Pasadena, quite a handsome thing, and likely as close as I'll ever come to the real Pasadena. Sigh. Sometimes it's hard hanging off the easternly edge of the continent.


This coming weekend marks the kickoff of the 19th annual Sheffield Mills Eagle Watch festival. The festival runs for three consecutive weekends and is a great way for families to spend some quality time in the outdoors, observing some of the many bald eagles that overwinter here. This fellow was sitting in one of the 'eagle trees' located near a poultry farm, likely digesting his breakfast, when I came back from town this morning, and obligingly gave the baleful eagle-glare while I snapped his photo. Over here in my community of Scotts Bay, we have a few eagles that live here yearround (as a few do elsewhere in the Valley, while many go to Cape Breton for the summer/nesting months) but I never, ever get tired of watching eagles. Not ever. They may be our neighbour to the south's national bird, but we love them too.

The Fruits of their Labours

I've been working on a couple of assignments that mention seedheads, berries, and other fruit forms, and that necessitated me taking a walk around the yard with my camera, looking to see what has or is in the process of setting seed. I'm not the tidiest of gardeners, and while I deadhead my container plantings, I tend to leave the perennial beds alone so that they can set seed to provide food for birds and winter interest for me.


Teasels are a mixed blessing. On the one hand, their seedheads look marvelous all winter long, especially if sheathed in ice or dusted with snow, and their seeds feed a number of songbirds. On the other hand, you need to mulch heavily under them or be prepared to dig up about 90,000 seedlings per plant next spring.

One of my favourite native plants is the witherod, or wild raisin (Viburnum nudum var cassinoides). It grows in the woods around our place but I actually planted several shrubs in our garden last year so as to encourage their spread a little more.

We have a big highbush cranberry (Viburnum trilobum) in the back garden, and it has a good crop of fruit at the moment. I expect visiting waxwings and other fruit-eaters will take care of that in coming weeks and months.

This is going to be 'quite a year for rose hips' if the rugosas are any indication.


However, they're still flowering as well as setting fruit, which makes me very happy, as the rugosas are one of my garden favourites.

Another garden favourite are the Japanese barberries, of which we have a number. The best one for fall display is the standard green one. The foliage turns awesome shades of gold, carmine, and scarlet, and the brilliant red berries look stunning against that backdrop.

Whether you call it Cimicifuga or Actaea, black cohosh is a splendid perennial. Ours are just finishing up their flowering and are forming very cool seedheads, which look neat in flower arrangements as well as waving in the autumn breezes.

Some of the clematis have finished up flowering and have gone to seed, with these pompom like tassels all but covering the vines.


Others continue to flower. This is 'Josephine', a personal favourite because it blooms for a long long time and also manages to have both double and single flowers.


I don't expect to have much for holly berries this year, either in the evergreen or in our winterberries. The male evergreen holly decided to have a traumatic winter and lost every leaf, the first time it's done that in the ten years I've had it. I cut it way back and it's rallying, but not flowering. The female, on the other hand, is more than eight feet tall in some spots, and is still flowering, hoping to catch some pollen somewhere. One of my male winterberries had an unfortunate winter, getting broken down to the ground, and the other isn't very big yet, so I don't know that it produced enough pollen for any of the plants to get fertilized. I guess we'll know in a few more weeks.
I was sent this Paniculata hydrangea to trial along with a few others several years ago. Unfortunately, the label got lost somewhere in transit and I have no idea which one this is. It might be 'Pinky Winky' because it keeps producing flowers from the tips, but I don't think it had that name when I got it. Whatever it is, it's fabulous, though not as early flowering or fast-growing as 'Quick Fire.'

My miscanthus varieties are all blooming now, with my favourite being Martin Quinn's 'Huron Sunrise.' You have to watch out for miscanthus because some spread by runners while others form well-behaved clumps. This is a clump-former.

There are still plenty of things flowering in the garden, although they're quite far-flung around the yard, unlike in high summer when there are blooms everywhere we look.

Every autumn, the colchicum surprise me with their sudden blooms. They leaf out in the spring, the foliage dies back, and I forget about them until they explode into blossom in mid-September. It's nice to have an autumn surprise like this, and I'd welcome more of this type of surprise. As opposed to the one that will happen one of these days when we get surprised by frost. Hopefully we're still some time from that, though. Yes, I'm still in autumn 'de nile' but only a little.