Sorta Wordless Wednesday--Hellebore Happiness

This collection of hellebore blooms comes from three different sources: some are in my own garden, some are at Baldwin Nurseries, and some are blooming happily in the Historic Gardens in Annapolis Royal. Given that we're having a storm warning for possible snow, rain, ice pellets, etc tonight...I thought we'd better celebrate these today. The nursery-grown plants are safely indoors in a greenhouse, of course, and I'm going out to cover mine with evergreens yet again.

You can read more about hellebores for our Atlantic Canadian Gardens at Baldwin's blog, or of course if you haven't already, there's a section on hellebores in my book...

Small break for promotion of an event I'm doing with a great nursery operator this weekend: For those out and about this weekend and looking for some inspiration and maybe an Easter gift or two, I'll be at the fabulous Bloom Greenhouse and Garden Centre on the Hammonds Plains road, at 1 pm this coming Saturday, 23 April. Please come on out and see what Cathy and her team have in store for you this spring, get your book signed (or buy a copy if you haven't already), and we'll have a talk on Plants for an Atlantic Garden! We'll be discussing hellebores, of course, as well as pondering the age old problem of what to do with deer and goutweed. See you on Saturday, regardless of weather--it's warm in the greenhouse and we'll have plenty of room to hang out and talk plants!

Now, back to being wordless...enjoy the hellebores.

Actual Blooms for Garden Blogger's Bloom Day! Imagine that.

It has to be spring now, because I took my studded winter tires off the car on Thursday afternoon. No more snow allowed until November, now. I mean it. It's time for spring, because look, I has blooms, serious blooms, just in time for Garden Blogger's Bloom Day. I'm so excited to be able to participate in outdoor blooms that I'm actually posting before Carol even has the link up for this month. Whoo hoo!

Okay, calming down now a little bit, but still leading off with the prize, the jewel, the most delightful beauty in the garden next to those naughty blue poppies...Helleborus 'Golden Sunrise'. Knowing our spring weather as I do, my hellebores are still protected by some evergreen limbs because of the excessive cold winds we're having, but a couple of warm days and warm rain prompted these to peek out long enough for me to snap a photo last evening just before dark.

Almost Wordless Wednesday: Spring bulbs are a'springing!

Although much of North America has been revelling in bulbs for weeks now, we here in cool-spring Nova Scotia are just really getting going with bulbs in earnest. They are mostly the 'small wonders' so far--the glory of the snow, snowdrops, scilla, crocus and such--but they present such a brilliant and welcome blanket of colour wherever they are. They are a joy, and while we wait for spring to warm up and things to get going, we can use such joys.

Oh and by the way--we heard Spring Peepers on Sunday night here in Scotts Bay, and the night before in Yarmouth. So no matter what weather is hurled at us, spring is officially here in my books.

"April is the Cruelest Month..."

It shouldn't be at all surprising that TS Eliot is one of this English major's favourite authors, and The Waste Land one of my favourite poems. Yes, it's complex, and most people don't know more than the first few lines, which sum up the current situation in my garden:

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

From Corylus to Crocus, March goes out like a Lamb

After nearly a week of galeforce, chilly winds blasting down on us, the last day of March came ambling along like a sweet, fluffy lamb; warm, and soft. The crocuses just leapt into action immediate, popping up like colourful dots all over the garden.

While we wait for spring--more book reviews.

In the words of Bugs Bunny, spring obviously "took a left turn at Albuquerque," as it has gone walkabout from Nova Scotia for the time being. A freak snowsquall dumped five inches of snow on my place Friday night, and while it's slowly disappearing, gale-force winds are keeping most of us from wanting to go outside right now. So we take solace in planning our gardens, including doing some garden book reading.

Blooming Friday: False Starts

Although I wrote in my last post that we have flower buds in the garden and the snow is nearly gone, we aren't going to bask in complacency just yet. It's still Farch in Nova Scotia, and one thing our weather is known for is its treachery. When this photo was taken, it had been a lovely sunny day til mid-afternoon, and by near-suppertime it was snowing fiercely.

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.

Tulips and Narcissus and Alliums, oh my! More Burblings on Bulbs

With a long-awaited improvement in the weather, it's time to return to talking about plants instead of other matters. Not that the other matters aren't important, of course--just that with a name like Bloomingwriter, one would expect that most of the discussion here would be about plants.

This time we're looking at larger flowered spring bulbs, the ones that tend to make a big splash of colour: tulips, narcissus/daffodils, and alliums. There's still plenty of time to plant bulbs, and you can still order from some companies, although the best selection is already sold. If you bought your bulbs already and it hasn't been fit to plant, remember to store them in a cool dry place but away from ripening fruit, which can kill bulb flower embryos.

You'll notice quite a few white-flowered varieties in this post, for several reasons. One, despite the fact that these plants flower after winter is past, I actually relish the sight of pure white or white-mixed flowers against a backdrop of gradually greening landscape. The White Hood daffodils in the preceding photo are one of my favourites, and multiply like crazy year after year. Likewise, the poeticus narcissus (pheasants eye) in the second photo from the top is a late blooming favourite, highly fragrant and unusual to look at.


Additionally, the good people at the International Flower Bulb Centre provide garden writers with a box of bulbs every autumn, and for two years in a row we received a host of white-flowering bulbs, including the miniature, doubled Sir Winston Churchill daffodil.

This means that I can usually remember the name of the bulb, if it was planted in the last couple of years, because I've made notes and kept them all in one place. With some of the other bulb varieties, like this pinkishsalmon and yellow bicolour daffodil, I don't remember the names, sadly.If you do, please feel free to suggest in the comments!

When growers make reference to pink daffodils, this is what they mean; usually a white or soft yellow ring of petals surrounding a cup of pinkish, salmon, or pale rose. I THINK this is Pink Charm, but I've had it from years and it suffers from LostLabel (LOLA) syndrome. It's a beauty, freshly different from the standard yellows, yellow and white or yellow and orange options.

Daffodils and alliums share something in common: both are quite deer resistant, because either the bulbs are toxic (in the case of daffodils) or highly distasteful to eat (in the case of alliums). Both are an excellent alternative, along with the fritillaria we mentioned last time, if you are plagued with deer or other animal problems. This is one of my favourite alliums, 'Caeruleum', which means blue. And it certainly is blue. Many alliums will self seed and multiply over the years, and this one does, but never invasively.

For something amusing and unusual, look for 'Hair' allium. The green tendrils emerge first, and can be quite attractive especially if planted with something that provides a strong, large textured foliage as a backdrop.

Star of Persia (Allium Christophii) is amazing for its late blooming, round balls of starry flowers, which later become excellent seedheads for later season interest.

And now, the tulips. There are so many different species, divisions, and colours of tulips, we can't draw attention to them all here. But there are a couple of things to know. One, deer love them. Two, many tulips, to bring the best bloom, like this Apricot Parrot above and the Flame Parrot at the top of this post, need to be treated as annuals and planted yearly. The main exceptions are the Triumphs, the Darwins, the Fosterianas, and the species tulips.

Species tulips tend to be small, low growing, and less showy than their flamboyant cousins, making them ideal for front of border or in rock garden plantings. This is Tulipa turkestanica, which produces clusters of small, white flowered flowers with yellow centres. Species tulips will often colonize if they're happy, although they are slower to spread than other bulbs.


This is a happy spring mixture including some parrot tulips (with the ruffled, flounced petals) some pheasants eye narcissus, and in the centre, one viridiflora tulip, possibly Deirdre, which is a green on green variety.

These are called lily-flowered tulips, easily identifiable with their vaselike shape. This variety is 'Marilyn', planted in honour of my late mother in law.

The slowly opening 'White Parrot' is a later blooming variety that looks something like a white peony as it opens.

The insides of tulips are often gorgeous, as you can see with Tulipa hageri 'Little Beauty'. This darling grows only 4-6 inches tall, with shimmering violet petals that flex open in sunlight, then close up with the onset of evening or cool weather. They work well in amongst crocus, snowdrops, and dwarf iris.

Finally, a couple more white-flowered tulips: the double white Mt. Tacoma, which looks even more like a peony with all its ruffled petals; and the clean green and white lines of 'Spring Green', a viridiflora that has been quite robust for me. My personal favourites are the viridifloras, the parrots, and the tiny, demure species.

One more thing. If you're heading out to plant bulbs this weekend, please promise me that you will plant them in groups of 5, 7, 9...not in straight rows like little soldiers? And try doing one or two colours at the most ina grouping, rather than a jumble of colours. You'll get more bang for your bulb that way.

A Remedy for NO-vember: spring bulbs indoors & out

It's no secret that NO-vember is my least favourite month in the calendar. The lack of light gets to me, and today, the first day of going back to Atlantic Standard Time, it's dark at just after 5 pm. We've been deluged with rain the past several days too, so it's dreary and dark and soggy outside. HOWEVER...

...I did get a significant number of spring flowering bulbs planted before the rains started. The anticipation of them is a balm for the soul--remembering springs past, and springs to come. When I plant bulbs, I think of Stan Rogers' song The Field Behind the Plow, and though I'm not planting food crops, I like to think of planting bulbs like Stan felt about planting grain or potatoes or whatever, as putting "Another season's promise in the ground."

Bulbs amaze me. Those insignificant looking little nubbly lumps of plant material disappear deep into the garden's beds and borders, sleep for a few months, then burst forth in a rainbow of colour. From the most exotic to the (some might say) humble crocus, they're all wonderful.

The tenacity and determination of Galanthus (snowdrops) delights me. Some years, they're pushing through melting snow in their haste to get up and blooming. They shrug off frosts, and multiply each year.

Are you acquainted with Leucojum, given the common name of Summer Snowflake? For many, they bloom in late spring rather than summer, but in our cooler spring garden they have held on until well into June. Think of them as something like taller, elegant snowdrops. I think they're underused and wonderful.

Another of my favourite small wonders is Puschkinia, or striped squill. It's an early bloomer too, following along after the snowdrops and usually accompanying the hellebores. This is another colonizer, great for rock gardens and front-of-border plantings.

Alliums are fabulous, deer resistant, come in all sorts of colours and sizes...some have excellent, longlasting seedheads, and some self seed, like the amusing 'Hair', which I'll show in the next post.

Another excellent and later blooming species is Sicilian honeybells, Allium bulgaricum (formerly Nectaroscordum siculum or N. bulgaricum). It's another favourite, so unique with its green, purple and white bell clusters.

The petite Iris species like I. reticulata are enthusiastic bloomers, barely clearing the soil before their colourful blossoms form a petite-pointe against the awakening soil.

For those who crave true-blue flowers, you can't go wrong with scilla, or squill, with its nodding, cobalt blue flowers. Scilla forms gradual colonies and works well under deciduous shrubs and mixed with taller bulbs such as daffodils and early to midseason tulips.
Fritillaria are another great choice for those plagued by deer and squirrels in their gardens. This is the chequered or snakeshead lily, F. meleagris. Frits can be bothered by scarlet lily beetle, although I've never encountered this as a problem.

Chionodoxa is commonly called glory-of-the-snow, and is another of my favourite small wonders for the front of borders or in rock gardens. When happy, they gradually form nice colonies in blue, white...

or pink! They are very popular with early pollinators, as are the crocus.

The first time I planted winter aconite, I put them in too soggy an area of the garden, and they didn't come back for me. This year, I've put them in what I hope is a more convivial situation (although with all this rain, everything is currently soggy!) and I hope they'll delight me with their cheery little flowers.

Don't forget to plant some bulbs for indoor colour; you can often purchase pretreated hyacinths, which you just plant and wait to bloom, or else you can buy the less expensive untreated bulbs, give them 14 weeks of cool temperatures (under 45 degrees F) and then bring them into bloom. They were a real boon to me last winter. Just the thought of them makes the day a little brighter.

Next time: the bigger, showoff bulbs: tulips, daffodils, and more alliums. Do you have all your bulbs planted yet?

Wordless Wednesday: The rain-washed spring garden

Skywatch Friday: April showers bring...April rainbows

The past couple of days have been truly glorious, proving that all things come to those who wait and don't complain about the weather. Okay, well, maybe a little complaining. But we forget all about the complaining when the weather turns to mild spring and we can almost hear the gardens growing, right?

Tonight after supper I was on my way to town to do a couple of errands, and as I started up our road, I noticed a rainbow over my neighbour's house. I was curious as to whether it would hold til I got to the Look-Off, and while it had faded a little, it was still enough that I took a couple of photos of it, arcing over the beauty of the Annapolis Valley and the Minas Basin.
Then as an added bonus, as I was coming back from town and crossing the Cornwallis River at Middle Dyke, a shower of rain off to the westward coupled with the setting sun and the rising of ground mist in the dykelands beside the river made a wonderful watercolour. So since I've missed the past couple of Skywatch Fridays, here's double the skywatching!

Meanwhile, tonight, the sky is clear, the peepers are singing a huge chorus, and...I can hear the garden growing. Seriously. A couple of warm days and everything leaps ahead. But I'll report on that in my next post.

Anodyne for April-is-the-cruelest-month-itis

Well, it had to happen sooner or later. The weather finally remembered that this is April in Nova Scotia, and threw a hissy fit worthy of a prima dona ex-federal tory cabinet minister stuck in a Charlottetown airport. There was no bad language out of the weather, tis true, but there was plenty out of me while I watched wind, rain, snow, more wind, chilly temperatures, and of course, yet more wind over the past few days.


However, I laugh in the face of such adversity. Ha. Ha.


Guess that wasn't overly convincing, was it? Okay, yes, I'm still cranky about the weather. But I've been using the inside days to get other work done so I can take a day off and go outside when April resumes behaving like a genteel lady once again. In the meantime, let's talk about some spring performers that make us happy. Like Lantana, which of course is an indoor performer at present but will be festooning many of my containers when the weather warms up again (top photo of Landmark sunrise).

Or primulas. I am very fond of them and have a few, though I plan to have a few more sooner rather than later. The watercolour one in the second photo is a lovely plant at the NSAC rock garden, and I'm hoping it has babies to share. This brilliant red and gold character came from Lloyd Mapplebeck's nursery last spring, and looks to be multiplying at a good rate. None of these primulas are in flower yet, I hasten to add. We're early, but we're not that early.

This brave soul, on the other hand, is close to flowering. This is Primula frondosa, the cutest little alpine-like primula you ever saw. We're talking tiny; each rosette is about the size of my camera lens cap, and the flowers are pea-sized. I love it.
Sneezing, looking around resentfully, but putting in an appearance is my old friend the hepatica. This simple little bloom makes my heart happy every spring when it and its friends put in an appearance. A native of Nova Scotia but all but extirpated, I got this from a nursery that grew its own plants from seed years ago. It's very slowgrowing, however, so I don't expect to have the woods awash in it any time soon.

The pieris that my friend Dick Steele gave me is quivering with anticipation. Just a few more days, and it will erupt into displays like this, it promises me. I've cut the holly back this year so the pieris has more room to shine.

Ah, the beautiful blues of scilla. This is one of those true blue flowers that just makes my heart happy to see it. It multiplies nicely, not insanely fast but with good persistance, and its cobalt blue flowers are very satisfying.

This rock cress is a determined plant. As soon as the weather warms up even slightly and sunlight hits it on its rocky hillside, it's in bloom. I haven't had as good success with the more lavender and magenta forms, but the white one does splendidly for me year after year.

A little foliage now, to excite us about things to come. Polemonium 'Stairway to Heaven' is reminding me that I love it for its foliage as well as for its softly blue flowers later in the spring.

And lastly, a perfect, exquisite, fragrant magnolia from down in the Valley. Mine aren't in bloom yet, and are still enough wrapped in their furry perules (those furry seed coverings) that the chilly weather won't harm the buds. I've convinced myself that I really should add one of the hardier yellow-flowered magnolias to the garden this year. Don't you think that's a good idea too?