Wordless Wednesday: Rhododendron Ramble at Rob Baldwin's Nursery

Epimedium Excitement

One of the things I wax on and on about when giving talks or writing about plants is about the importance of loving foliage as much as flowers. If we select our garden plants with an eye to interesting foliage as well as marvelous blooms, we will never lament about the "midsummer meltdown" or about a lack of interesting things happening in the garden. Foliage is sometimes subtle, sometimes spectacular. Sometimes, it's almost more important than the flowers on a plant.

Epimediums make me very happy, especially now that I have some established in my garden and doing well. Their flowers are lovely, but they aren't what you call flamboyant, not like a big puffy peony or a perfect rose or a swath of lilies. No, epimedium flowers make you pause, flop on your tummy on warm dry grass, and take time to admire these small wonders. If you're at all prone to flights of fancy, you might think these are the equivalent of daffodils for the "wee folk" that inhabit some gardens. That's what struck me today, studying the flowers of this E. sulphureum species; yes, I know they have four petals, not six, but I'm sure the garden fairies aren't all botanists.

For most people, the epimediums--or if you prefer, barrenwort, bishop's cap, mitrewort, or fairy wings--are past blooming by now. In my garden, they're just pushing through the ground, or, as in the case of the new ones that trailed home after me on Saturday, they're sitting in the greenhouse waiting for the blasted winds to come down from gale-force so they can join those already in the garden. This is E. youngianum 'Niveum, with pure white flowers, one of the new ones, which I found--among many other treasures, though I resisted and didn't buy everything that caught my fancy--at Pleasant Valley Nurseries in Antigonish. This is a wonderful nursery, and I don't get to visit nearly often enough, but Phyllis and her staff do a great job of carrying a wide selection of reasonably priced, interested, and healthy plants. (Their new website is under construction, so it doesn't have a huge amount of information yet. You'll just have to go visit!)

From fellow plant geek, professor and inspiration Lloyd Mapplebeck in Truro, I picked up this wonderful E. x versicolor 'Sulphureum' to give to a friend who I think needs to get into these plants too. You saw the flowers up close in the top photo--now you can see the wine tinges of colour in the mostly heart-shaped leaves. These plants will gradually form nice little ground-covers in moist, partially shaded sites. Lloyd did tell me a couple of years ago that we can grow epimedium in more sun than other regions because we don't get so hot here in the summer. While they are quite resistant to dry soil if they're in shade, they want more moisture if they're going to be in a more sunny site. I tried doing just that and had great success after some frustrating tries in earlier years. Lloyd doesn't have a website yet, but you can see him every Saturday at the Truro Farmer's Market, along with several other plant enthusiasts. And he'll give you directions on how to get to his place. I know how to get there, but not so much how to tell others how to get there.

I'm sort of hard pressed to pick an absolute favourite mitrewort, but I am very charmed by 'Orange Konigin', or Orange Queen. Maybe that's because it was the one that first bewitched me and so I had to have it and am happily entranced by its flowers.

E. x rubrum is a nice plant, with very pretty cherry-red flowers lined in white, just as if they were the cap of some clergy. Leaves are a very brilliant green just edged in wine, and I like this one in more sun because its darker colour tends to disappear in shade.
And then there's this little charmer, E. grandiflorum 'Lilafee.' The leaves are significantly smaller than other species and cultivars, especially to start with, and boast a rich wine tinge to young foliage, which is meant to be mostly evergreen. The flowers are a lovely purple mauve colour and have long spurs, more like a miniature columbine than a daffodil now that I think on it some more. I've seen them describes as looking like little purple spiders, but I'm not a real arachnophile; Never mind about Charlotte's web, I'm more inclined to think Shelob's lair when dealing with spiders. 'Lilafee' came from Jane Blackburn's Woodland and Meadows nursery in Clifton, just outside Truro. She was set up at the site where I was giving a talk, and will be at the Farmer's Market in Truro starting next weekend. It's well worth visiting her nursery, especially if you have a longsuffering spouse with a fascination for trains, like Jane's husband does. Their gardens share space with some of Andrew's train memorabilia, including several actual train cars. It's a wonderful place to visit.

Like my other expeditions, Saturday was extremely satisfying--not only did I get to visit three 1/2 nurseries, I got to meet up with some wonderful people at the Bible Hill Fire Hall for the Central zone meeting, where I was speaking on four-season gardening. Including, of course, foliage. Before landing in Truro, however, I made the run to Antigonish, went to Pleasant Valley, and then on to Bill and Sharon Wilgenhof's place, The Willow Garden where a number of rhododendrons and hardy azaleas got into the car. The official Willow Garden plant sale is NEXT weekend but when I explained that I couldn't get there next week because of other obligations, Bill and Sharon kindly dug my rhodies and azaleas, plus some monarda and digitalis to add to my collection. Bill likes to walk me around the garden and show me what he's doing--he's a total inspiration and plant person, rather like my late friend Dick Steele--and only a few years his junior, too. Gardening keeps you young, obviously.

And though it was a day early, as I went past Trenton/Stellarton/Plymouth/Pictou, a shadow crossed my heart. 18 years ago, on May 9, 1982, the Westray Mine exploded due to a combination of deadly methane gas and coal dust, killig 26 miners. I didn't have time to stop and pay my respects on Saturday at Their Light Shall Always Shine Memorial Park. But circumstances have me returning to Pictou County next week for a meeting with other gardeners, and I'll stop and leave a pebble on the big memorial stone to remind them that we honour and remember them always. And we swear to our politicians, "Never Again."

When the weather gets tough, the tough go plant hunting!

It started out innocently enough, as these things often do. I blame it totally on the weather.

After a highly productive early morning writing plant profiles and finishing up a presentation I'll be doing soon, I thought I might go outside and work. Well. I knew it was windy, but when I went outside and got blown halfway across the yard, I got enormously peeved at the universe. I knew there'd be no working outside, so I got thinking about a wonderful plant I spied a couple of weeks ago at Briar Patch Farm and Nursery in Berwick. It's a new annual euphorbia along the lines of the awesome 'Diamond Frost'; this one has more of a pink tinge and larger flowers, and is called 'Breathless Blush'. I figure the weather has moderated enough that I should go pick it up, along with a few other things, and then I can work in the greenhouse, planting my containers. So I headed off down the highway...


...but I didn't go to ONLY Briar Patch. I managed to hit four nurseries, two of which have websites: Briar Patch, and denHaan's, down in Middleton. Because you see, I thought I'd go visit denHaan's, see what they have for annuals, then go have tea with my friend Terri at her Telegraph Tea Room in neighbouring Nictaux.


At den Hann's, I managed to have 4 small fall asters, a burgundy flowered sanguisorba, a huge, purple-belled gloxinia for my office, and several annuals follow me out to the car. One of the annuals is this pink Pentas, a great butterfly magnet.


In Centreville, I had to go in to Gerry Frail's nursery (no website) and collect a few other container plants, including the white osteo in the second photo, 'Osteo Soprano Vanilla'. Though I love some of the newer colours of osteos, I always need a white one or two, and I haven't had one of the spoon-petalled types for a while.


I had this cuphea, called 'Totally Tempted' a couple of years ago. Although it's kind of messy when its flowers finish, I found it a huge hummingbird magnet, so I decided to get another one this year to put in one of the hanging baskets. I picked this up at a small family greenhouse in Aylesford called Marlene's. A miniature astilbe called 'Sprite', which I can't wait to plant, pleaded with me to give it a good home. Well, you know when plants plead with you, you have to comply.

Oh, let's see, what else did I collect? At Briar Patch, a really fine specimen of Amsonia 'Blue Ice'; I have the regular A. tabernaemontana, which has been a tried and true performer for nearly a decade. I did have a 'Blue Ice' a couple of years ago, but...ahem...I forgot where I planted it and I don't know if it went to sleep or if I weeded it thinking it was something else or what happened to it. Have I mentioned that we have a lot of garden beds, and that sometimes things do go astray?


So then I went to Terri's place, the perfect way to wrap up a highly satisfactory break from working. Terri and her husband James moved here from England several years ago, and opened this tea room as part of their new life here. At one time, Terri worked at Heligan and the Eden Project back in the UK, so she's a real plantswoman and a pleasure to talk with. And I'm now hopelessly hooked on what she calls a Ploughman's lunch. I'd read about this for many years, but never had it before. Maybe it was the homemade wholegrain rolls. Or the white Stilton with pears blended into it. Or the delectable chocolate mint herbal tea that I had with it. Or just all of the above, plus good conversation. It was altogether dandy, and much better than sitting home cussing at the wind. I did enough of that when I got back and had to unload everything into the greenhouse!

By the time you read this, I'll be on my way to Bible Hill to give a talk, but first I'll be flying to Antigonish to pick up some plants from Bill and Sharon at The Willow Garden. And then detouring to Lloyd Mapplebeck's Hillendale Perennials to drop off some plants I promised him. Am leaving Longsuffering Spouse at home because...he takes up too much room in the car, and there has to be room for plants.

Skywatch Friday: The Bee's eye sky again...

It's been a bit too windy to track the bumblebees around the garden the past day or so, but I've been bumbling around on the ground again, peering up into flowers and catching perfect blue skies to boot. So here, for this week's edition of Skywatch Friday, are some more bee's-eye views, starting with one of my hellebores, supposedly 'Red Lady'.

I love daffodils, of all colours. While we have a host of cheery all-yellow daffs in various locations, I really like the white with different corona colours. Alas, most of these have been planted for a long time and the names have long since been forgotten. This is one of the so-called pink daffs, and I have to say it definitely is closer to pink than many of them are.
On the other hand, this pure white and happy yellow daff nearby is definitely showing no signs of pink at all.

These pure white beauties may be my absolute favourites. I have no idea which one it is--it's not one of the miniatures, but it's pristine white with only a wee bit of yellow on the back of the sepals on the perianth. In the background, the yellow and white cultivar is happily providing another burst of colour, along with some greigii tulips.

And to wrap up my ode to daffodils, another cheery selection. It's not 'Barrett Browning' which I do have around the garden somewhere (there are still plenty that have yet to bloom, including the miniatures and the poeticus varieties), because its corona is too long. It doesn't matter, though. They're all lovely, fragrant, and happy harbingers of full-fledged spring, perfect against the blue sky of a wonderful May day.

Wordless Wednesday: The rain-washed spring garden

New Page! Garden Events & Activities in Nova Scotia

Because I love to support good, reputable local nurseries, local garden clubs and nature societies, and other organizations and businesses of this nature, I decided to develop a page dedicated to them. It's my first foray into making pages and I can't say I have it all figured out just yet, but please bear with me and we'll get there.

Now, I do ask for your patience with this, as I'm all new to making pages. Because I use a third-party template, I haven't yet dared tamper with making tabs across the top of the blog home page, so you'll have to simply check out the Garden Events page by clicking the link on the left hand side of the blog. I hope you enjoy, and that it helps the businesses and organizations involved!

Pieces of April on a morning in May

It's Saturday, the first of May, Day 2 of the 6th annual Saltscapes East Coast Expo. The show is fabulous as always, with all kinds of things to do and see, taste and listen to. There are musicians and dancers, artisans and speakers, cooks and creative people galore, lots of cool retail items, innovative ways with food... I always explain the show as being as if Saltscapes magazine came to life in Exhibition Park; it's not your average home or trade show. It's just different, and I'm honoured to be a part of it.

The show comes at a very hectic time of year, especially for me, as I race towards my book deadline, enjoy the pleasures of the garden, visit different clubs and other organizations to give talks, and also meet my commitments to my other clients. It means something has to give, and in my case that something tends to be both writing my blog, and visiting others as much as I like to, and also not being as active at Blotanical as I normally am.

Someone asked me recently, "Why do you blog? Do you make money from it? Are you selling a service? Why don't you promote yourself more?" And so on. These questions, coupled with some rather cranky and mean-spirited posts and discussions I've read recently on assorted topics around the blogosphere, really got me thinking again about why I DO write this place of little scribbles.

Here are my answers to those questions, for what they're worth:

1. No, I don't make money from this blog. I have a google ad section on here, but I've never had a payout on it, (and in fact, I block ads via my browser so I don't even SEE the ads that come up. I am going to discontinue them because the randomness of them annoys me, and often promotes garbage sites that I don't wish to encourage).

2. I'm not selling a service. People who wish to hire me to write for them contact me by other means. And I'm plenty busy, with some very good clients who are great to work for, so I'm blessed to be able to make a living doing what I love. That's part of the reason for the blog--a way to give back to others.

3. I've never been much on self-promotion. There's nothing wrong with it for those who do wave their own flag to help encourage readers and/or buyers of whatever they're selling, etc. It's just not how I roll. It embarrasses me to be at the top of the favourite heap at Blotanical for long periods of time, I don't like awards, and I won't be asking anyone to vote for me in any of the award memes that go on periodically around the blogosphere.

4. But I do take pride in writing posts that (hopefully) amuse, educate, and most importantly, encourage others. Doing talks at events like the Expo remind me why I do what I do. People come to ask questions (and if I don't know the answer, I try very hard to find the information for them). They tell me stories about their gardens, their battles with goutweed, their interest in new plants and new ideas about gardening. They show me photos of their gardens, give me wonderful tidbits of information that I had no idea about.

They say things to me like, "Because of your (columns/talks/blog posts/newsletters) I have added new plants to my garden." or "We've added some plants to encourage bees and butterflies." or "I've gone organic in my garden."

People often come up after a talk and tell me that they are encouraged when they read bloomingwriter. They don't all leave comments, of course, just like everyone who reads a newspaper doesn't necessarily write letters to the editor. I can tell, from looking at my stats, how many of my readers come from around the region.

I make them laugh, sometimes. I make them think, and most importantly, make them think they CAN garden. Because they can, of course. Sure, it can be hard work, but it's also an uplifting, happy-making, beauty-making pastime. There's a satisfaction with looking at a newly-planted shrub, or with having pleasantly-sore muscles after a day spent making a new bed or battling the goutweed.

I will maintain until my last breath, "We can all grow great gardens. IF we want to." But let's be clear: there's nothing wrong with NOT wanting to garden, either. Not everyone has the time, space, interest, etc. It's not my way to be didactic with people, not about what they should plant or how they should garden (or how they should write a blog, for that matter) ; when something becomes a 'should', it loses some of its spontaneity and joy. I prefer for people to choose to plant a garden or go organic or encourage pollinators.

THAT's why I write this blog, and why I sometimes feel guilty when I'm so busy that I can't post.

To end on a less pensive note, here's a totally gratuitous photo of the always-naughty Mungus, having an overdose of catnip. He got this bag down off a high cupboard, ripped it open to share it with his cohorts, then licked it quite clean. Then had a nice long snooze.

Which is what I'm about to do!

Wordless Wednesday: Magnolia Magnificence

Eating my Words

I love learning something new, especially when it comes to plants. There's always, always something new to learn, too. Including about myself.

So I'm at Glad Gardens out in Waterville, which is a very cool family owned operation that I discovered a few years ago. Daina and her mother Laura and their team of employees strive to have great plants, including a lot of unusual annuals, many of which Daina grows from seed. She creates astonishingly beautiful container plantings too, but more about those another day.

One of the reasons I enjoy going to Glad Gardens so much is that, like the other nurseries I frequent, the owners LOVE plants, and love to talk about them. We exchange information, puzzle over things together sometimes. Like when Laura told me about the Filipendula purpurea 'Elegans that she'd had growing in front of the nursery, and then moved it, and the flower colour changed. She'd grown it on in several spots and it still didn't resort to the rich pink flowers they had been--more of a pale peach. Did I know why? No, I didn't, although I'd read something about this in Allan Armitage's Native Plants for North America Gardens just recently and so when I got home I'd go find out what ever else I could and let her know.

Daina and I are walking through the nursery looking for plants for me to take with me to Saltscapes Expo this Friday, and she points out the tuberous begonias she grew. "I'm not a fan of begonias," I tell her, even though my father grew them splendidly when I was a kid back in St. John's. Somehow, they're just too...I don't know what, but I've only ever had the occasional Rex begonia around for years.

The words are hardly out of my mouth--I MEAN that--when I glance up and come to a halt. "Which one is THAT?" I demand, pointing at a glowing, perfect flower, gold edged in pink-scarlet. It looked a little bit like a tree peony, so stuffed with gorgeous petals.

"Non Stop Fire, "Daina says, grinning at me. She knows me well, and when plants stop me in my tracks, there's usually something about to happen.

Yes, she added one to the box of treasures she was carrying for me. Surprised? Didn't think so.

So that was one thing I learned--I can be seduced into liking at least ONE species or cultivar in a genus if the right colour combination catches my eye. But the thing about this little interlude that cracked me up is that I was looking at another flower on the plant, with single petals and a cluster of stigma in its centre. "Why is this different?" I ask.

"That's the female flower," she says. "The male is the bigger, showier one. Some people cut the female flowers off so more energy can go into the fancy double ones."

D-uh to me. All these years and I didn't know that? Okay, granted, I've said I don't LIKE them and consequently don't grow them or read about them or...but still. Wow. But I've never pretended to be a know-it-all, just a curious person. And like I said, I love learning something new.

Oh, so what else got into the car today besides the begonia that felled me in a single swoop? I'm not telling, not today. Just a tempting little hint; rich dark foliage, blue flowers, orange flowers, rosy pink flowers, vine, annuals, perennials, succulents. Hmmmm. What has she gone and done NOW?

You'll have to wait a day or two to find out, friends. With the Saltscapes Expo only 5 sleeps away, I have much to do before I head to Halifax for the weekend.

Seeing rather than looking: a weekend miscellany

A few highly productive but also very busy days around here. The weather, as I mentioned last post, has smartened up significantly, leading me to get up early, write/work like a demon til lunch or early afternoon, then go outside to tackle the garden. Just on Friday, I wrote over 2500 words for assorted projects, including, of course, The Book, which seems to be coming along well.

Likewise, the garden is coming along well. It's actually leaping ahead at an amazing rate, sort of worrying because I wonder if everything is going to be early and thus done early. But on the other hand, I've been enjoying welcoming the arrivals of plants that I had thought might be spleeny. And I do greet the discovery that they've made it through the winter with great joy. "Welcome BACK, Anemone 'Vestal.' Nice to see you again, Echinacea 'Coconut Lime'. Hurray, you've made it through, Eryngium 'Jade Frost' (above photo)." And so on.

I love going outside to take photos with my small digital Canon, which has an interesting macro feature and sees things that I didn't notice. I might be fixating on the myriad shades of colour in the hellebore petals (actually sepals, but we won't quibble) and fail to notice the wee insect making its way toward the flower's centre, perhaps to pollinate.


Along with writing The Book, I'm providing the photos for it, and have been taking extra shots in case images I have from other years aren't enough. The most frustrating flower to photograph has been this Orange Konigin epimedium, because each flower is so small, they open at different times on each stalk of blossoms, and they're just not cooperating. It wasn't until I was looking at these images blown up that I noticed the wee hairs on each flower's stipe. Also the cat hair and/or spider web festooning this plant, courtesy of the two elderly cats who do go outside and who like to help me in the garden.

Love the venation in these pulmonaria blooms. Of course, I've mentioned my love of pulmonarias before, and will again. They're just so wonderful, and pollinators adore them too. Given that I was talking about pollinators to a group of gardeners in Dartmouth on Saturday, it's small wonder that I have them on my mind.

Magnolias are in bloom in other parts of Nova Scotia, and some report frost damage from the cold nights we had a few days back. Only a few of my flowers are beginning to show on the stellata, and most are still nestled inside their protective bud covers (the proper name of which completely escapes me tonight.)

This seems to be the week of rainbows, too. Thursday evening's was nice, but Saturday evening we were given the present of a double rainbow over my neighbour's old house. After taking some photos, I sat out behind our place and just let the intermittent rain spatter on me while I watched the rainbows, which went on for probably twenty minutes.

And I was thinking to myself as I looked at this sedum emerging from its winter sleep, how much I like the look of some perennials as they push through the ground. I almost wish this one (which is one of the taller varieties, possibly 'Matrona') would stay small and tidy and lovely. Almost.

Something about the geometric beauty of this hellebore's flower, surrounded by the rosy sepals, really, really pleased me. So did the condition of the soil in the lower garden where the hellebores are and where I was weeding the past couple of days. It's turned black, rich and friable from all the compost I've added to it over the years since I first took on the challenge to deal with what was red clumpy clay. So it can be done, friends. It really can. The dedicated work we do, whether in the garden or on other projects, really does pay off.

So, what has come back in your garden that you've been really pleased about? What has seemingly gone to sleep, never to awaken again?

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.

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