Wordless Wednesday: Fogflora, or my garden in the mist

Skywatch Friday: Cape Split at High Water

For this week's Skywatch Friday, we're returning to the waters of the upper Bay of Fundy, for another trip around Cape Split. The Split has a popular hiking trail that snakes its way over 6+ kilometres of woodland paths, across the end of the North Mountain and out to the collection of sea stacks that give the trail its name.

Last Saturday it was really, really hot, and also very calm. Hubby suggested we go fishing, but the flounders weren't co-operating, so we went for a jaunt out around the Split instead.

That grassy and wooded area on the right? That's the Cape Split trail's terminus, on a cliff that is over 400 feet high. You can't go out on the other stacks unless you can fly, so we leave that to cormorants, gulls, and Search and Rescue helicopters. Personally, I prefer the boat because there's no traffic, no garbage from careless hikers, and there's this awesome view the whole time.

Beyond those first couple of stacks are a succession of lower, but still very impressive, piles of columnar basalt. There's quite a tide races through there twice a day, as the tides turn, but at or near high water, there's more than enough water for a motorized boat run by an experienced operator to go 'thru the Split.'

Longsuffering spouse is a retired lobster fisherman who worked in these waters for more than 25 years, so he knows what he's doing. This is the first time I've been out around the Split in several years, though and the thrill is just the same as it was the first time I went.

It's really hard to see what is going on here, but bear in mind: this is not a river, but the Minas channel, part of the Bay of Fundy with its world's highest tides. The riptide runs at around 8 knots when it's racing around the end of the Split, and it does some weird things: waves, whirlpools, 'dancing water', like rapids on the ocean. Not for the inexperienced boater.


LSS said to me, "the boat is likely going to move sideways here in a second," and just like that, she did indeed skitter sideways like a spooked horse. No problem, of course, with a good motor and a sensible helmsman. I just braced and kept taking photos. Hard to keep a level horizon when you're on the water, though.

Out well beyond, the water looks deceptively calm, and IS calm elsewhere in the Bay. But it boils and mutters and holds its secrets to itself here. Where we went through the hole is on the left: There's the very high cliff, then a medium sized stack, then three smaller ones, this big one on the right foreground, then the little rocks where the cormorants hang out drying their wings.

It's one of the most amazing, majestic, and mysterious places in Canada, if not the world. We're so lucky to live here, and to be able to go out on the water and admire this beauty for ourselves. Or we think so, anyway.

Echinaceas on Parade!

A few posts back, I promised a roundup of some of the newer and more popular coneflowers that have been firing up gardeners' and plant breeders' imaginations. I thought that it would be nice to do one now, given that my recent column in the paper is on coneflowers but for some inscrutable reason, the photos were printed in black and white rather than colour. It's kind of hard to sell someone on the wow factor of a not-purple coneflower when its showing in shades of grey. So here is a bouquet of some new favourites, some older all stars, with my notes on them to date.

One of the things that happens when you aren't meticulous with labelling, mapping, or even keeping track of where you bought or were given plants is that you then don't remember what you planted where. Even when labels are put in the ground, they can arbitrarily leap out during a winter frost-heaving festival. So you wait until the plant blooms and then hope to be definitive about which variety is where. I'm still waiting on a few late-comers to start blooming, but I've pretty much gotten the rest figured out.

Like the one above. Initially I thought it was 'Sundown', but now I'm sure it's 'Summer Sky', because it's taller at 40+ inches, starts to show the ring of purple with outer, orangy colouring on the petal tips fairly promptly after the petals open. Add to that the dark stems and it seems a match for 'Summer Sky'. 'Sundown' is a little shorter and doesn't show purple colouring; unless this is actually the no-longer available 'Sunset'? Oh me aching head!

Not everyone likes the double-flowered echinaceas, but as I've remarked before, I'm very fond of them. I especially like the way they change colour as the flowers open and mature. This is one of the 'Secret' series that Terra Nova carries, 'Secret Passion.' The flower gradually deepens to a rich deep rosy pink cone and orange-pink petals. It's pretty cool, and seems very vigourous. This is its first year in my garden.

I wonder who comes up with names like this compact variety sports: 'Pow Wow Wild Berry' is doing splendidly from having been planted as a seed back in the spring. It's a good front-of-border plant and seems destined to be popular, providing its vigour includes good winter hardiness. Ask me next spring.

My gardens are a little slower than those of many people, because it's cooler here on the hill, and I do have some shade. A few varieties are later in blooming, whether because they'll always be later blooming or because this is their second year and they're in 'creep mode', I don't know. 'Mac n Cheese' is just getting going.

Not everyone is excited by white coneflowers, but I like them because they're crisply cool and a nice contrast to their more hot-coloured counterparts. This is 'Jade', developed by Piet Oudolf, and doing very well in its third season in my garden.

You didn't think I'd let this post go through without showing off 'Hot Papaya' again, did you? Of course not, even if I did just do a post the other day about this beauty. It get more interesting with each passing day, I swear. The only thing I've decided is that I should move it to another spot where it will get more attention; it's shorter than some of its relatives, at least this year, although it's supposed to grow 30-36 inches. I'm going to mark it carefully and watch it, and see what it does next year.

Another double, 'Coconut Lime' is pretty cool in my books. 'Meringue' is somewhat similar but has a more yellowy cast to the central cone. Or at least it does in my garden.

'Harvest Moon' has been around for a few years now and once established, shows itself to be a fine plant, with a different colour than other yellow or orange varieties. Its petals flex backward as it matures, which some don't like, but which is part of its breeding.

Another Piet Oudolf introduction, 'Green Jewel' is for those of us who enjoy green flowers. You can count me in that category.

'Green Eyes' looks like an 'ordinary' purple coneflower (if there is such a thing' except for the green 'eye' in the central cone. The flowers are a rich dark magenta, not really showing off their charms in this sun-lit photo.

Since it came out a few years ago, 'Green Envy' has held me in its thrall. It's a later-blooming one, just getting going nicely in my garden, but it also blooms well into October. I've been extremely satisfied with this plant and recommend it highly to those with a yen for green flowers.

'Tangerine Dream' is one of the really, REALLY orange-flowered varieties. It is said not to fade its colour as the flowers age, and so far I have certainly found that to be true. It has big flowers with wide petals, and a nice honey scent. Definitely in my top five.

'Hope' is unusual for its soft pink colour, its big flowers with big central button-like cones, and its nice fragrance. It's also later blooming in my garden, just getting around to extending its petals and showing its colour now. But it's worth waiting for.

'FlameThrower' is another of the orange varieties, this one with a darker ring of orange near the cone. So far mine has only produced one flower because this is its first year and I was brave, and cut off all the original stems that were going to bloom, so that it would put its growth into foliage instead.

Coneflowers look spectacular when they are in a mass planting, such as this one. I hasten to add, this isn't in my garden, but in a fabulous garden up near Truro. I hope to do a post on this garden sometime soon.

Is it 'Razzamatazz'? Is it 'Pink Double Delight'? I don't know. I have had both, and somehow planted them near to one another, but another PDD is about to bloom in another part of the garden. So I'll do a compare and contrast and we'll see what we have.

'Tiki Torch' is doing spectacularly for my friend Rob Baldwin, who has some fine plants in the display beds at his nursery. Here, it's a little slow developing, but it's only in its second year and I don't like to rush perennials. The good thing about having such a variety of them is that there's always something going on with them.

Another of the 'Big Sky' series, this is 'Sunrise', which for some people gets quite pale as the flowers age, and for others seems to hold its colour nicely. In my garden, it's preparing to bloom, trailing along with the likes of 'Tomato Soup', 'Mac n Cheese', and 'Twilight'. I also have 'Ruby Star', 'Magnus', and a host of seedlings that could be from 'Magnus' and might be from others, but I won't post them here. They're splendid and wonderful, don't get me wrong--my only wish is that they came a little earlier in my garden season. Because with them coming on in August, I get that sinking feeling that comes with knowing that summer is on the downward slide. On the other hand, they give me weeks and weeks and weeks of delight, so that is a very good thing.

Skywatch Friday: Black Poppy Blue Sky

Because I haven't done a Skywatch Friday post for a while, and because I'm having a sick day today, this is a very short post with promises to do more later--after I get up again. A shot of 'black' annual poppies at a garden in another part of the province on what was one of a series of perfect August days earlier this week.

Today is much the same kind of day, a day that is perfect for laying in bed, catching up on reading, sorting out photos, visiting other people's blogs...the next best thing to being out in my garden, which will have to do without me for a couple more days.

If I haven't been to visit your blog lately, I'm taking a page from Gardening with Grace, with heartfelt apologies for my lack of visiting, and promises to make up for that very soon.

Having the Hots for Hot Papaya...

Since I first saw photos of 'Hot Papaya' Echinacea about 18 months ago, I have coveted this plant with possibly even more enthusiasm than I have for blue poppies, 'Green Envy' echinacea, and purple hydrangeas. It's no secret to regular readers that I am totally besotted with coneflowers of all colours, but this one just rang my bells. I love orange flowers...love echinaceas...love the double cones...it was obviously a match made in gardening heaven. (Click for larger collages).
The really fun thing about this particular coneflower is the way it changes colour pretty much daily. This collage shows its changes from the the day I first started tracking its opening flowers--or extending flowers, because they're rather cool the way they develop--about a week ago, until today. This is all one flower, until the photo where you see two of them in the bottom right-hand corner. They're a bit magical. They change from sort of muddy greenish orange to a sunny golden-orange to a deeper orange with tinges of pink...and they just keep changing and getting more splendid.

I have many other coneflowers, all coming into bloom, although there are still half a dozen that haven't yet gone beyond the green button stage. The gold/yellow ones that I have, the all-red 'Tomato Soup', the new 'Firebird', and the always later-blooming 'Green Envy' are still preparing to do their thing in earnest. But for now, I'm just going to crow gleefully over the beauty of 'Hot Papaya'. Here's hoping it is as sturdy as some of the other fancy-coloured jewels in my collection.

And since I know there are more varieties to come...I guess I'd better extend the bed that I have most of them in. Because we all KNOW I will need the newer ones, too. They're my only bad habit. Well, and books. And cats.

Perfectly purple hydrangeas

I've been back from Yarmouth for a couple of days now, just catching up with things and resting a little. It was a perfect time to duck out for a few days change of scenery. There is nothing better than seeing dear friends, (who share my obsession with plants), visiting awesome gardens and garden centres, talking plants, taking gazillions of photos, and just having a bit of a break. If you've never been to Yarmouth and surrounding area, it's a beautiful place with wonderful people, scenery, and gardens, among other attractions. Including--or in my case, especially--purple hydrangeas.

There are a LOT of purple hydrangeas around the Yarmouth area, but the first time I saw one, I nearly drove off the road. I did pull over, get turned around, and go park safely out of traffic before I went and sighed and slobbered and waxed excited over this plant. Plants, actually, because there were several of them.


It was late October or early November, and here were these four or five shrubs edging a lawn, all covered in deep wine-purple flowers. Granted, they were drying on the shrub, and were darker than they would be in summer. But I knew I'd have to go back and see them in summer. Now, it's one of the highlights of a mid-summer visit; to see how many of these richly coloured blooms I can find.

We're all used to the regular mophead colours. Shades of pink, in soil that tends to the alkaline side of the pH scale (7-14)...
And blue flowers on those growing in more acid soil. (pH less than 7). Now, as far as I know, and from what literature tells me, some mopheads are the only plants that do change colour according to pH. They don't all do it, and if you have a white one, nothing you do is going to change its colour. But if you have one of the pH sensitive types, you can change from pink to blue or blue to pink. Or....

...If your soil pH is just right--not too acid, not too alkaline--and you have one of the deeper blue or deeper pink-flowered mopheads, you can get these extraordinary purple hydrangeas. Paler blue or pink results in more lavender shades, but the rich blue or pink will turn these amazing shades.
Sadly, *I* have no purple hydrangeas, though I have quite a few different species and cultivars of this wonderful shrub in my garden. There are three different lacecaps, three different paniculatas, two Annabelle-types, and one climber, and only one mophead, 'Endless Summer' original. Most mopheads are just a bit too tender for my garden, or if they do survive, their flower buds are killed off. Two of the Lacecaps I have, Blue Billows and Blue Bird, are pale blue to pink and do show a bit of pale lavender in some blooms. The third, probably 'Tokyo Delight' is white with pinkish fertile florets. No purple there.

The funny thing is, it's normally BLUE flowers that send me into squeals of delight, as I have plenty of purple flowered plants around the garden. But there's just something about these that is just so rich, unusual and alluring.

I shall have to resist the urge to come back in the autumn and become a hydrangea-ninja, slipping stealthily through darkened gardens to snip off a few dried blossoms. Nope, I would never do that. I'll just keep sighing over purple hydrangeas...

...and enjoying them as my desktop wallpaper.

Why we love plants, part the 'leventy-'leventh

It is no secret that those of us who love plants understand one another quite well. While those who LIKE plants might think we're a bit much when we get excited over a perfect wildflower or a new plant catalogue, those of us who are total plant addicts understand perfectly why someone else would geek out over a new echinacea or a different heuchera or a heritage variety of leaf lettuce or seventy different types of tomatoes. Maybe not everyone loves echinacea 'Green Envy' as much as I do, but we plant people all have plants that make us extraordinarily happy.

I find myself firmly straddling all worlds when it comes to garden plants AND wild plants. New cultivars of garden plants often make me rapturous with excitement and plant envy. Old favourites make me joyful, even those that exasperate me because I can't get them to grow properly for me (yellow hollyhocks, anyone?)

I don't need to bring home every plant I see, however. My practical gene kicks in from time to time, and while I love Rudbeckia 'Prairie Sun' (photo, above), I know it will behave more likely than not as an annual and not return. So I'll enjoy it in other gardens or at nurseries, or in photos, and that's just fine.

Sometimes we're too busy or too preoccupied or we're looking up in trees or out at the water and we don't always notice the wonders going on under our feet. Or we don't recognize what we're looking at. I wonder how many people have walked by Indian Pipe (Monotropa species) and not noticed their ghostly heads rising up out of the ground. Probably plenty of us, while others, like me, carefully bend over and put our cameras down close so we can catch a little of the magic of a chlorophyll-less plant. I never get tired of seeing these mysterious, bizarre plants.

Then there's the sheer, almost unutterable joy of seeing a rare, endangered, and exquisitely beautiful plant growing, even thriving, in its natural habitat. You won't see Sabatia kennedyana in my garden, or in any garden centre. In fact, most of you will never see this remarkable little wildflower, ever. But my fellow plant addicts understand perfectly, even without seeing it, why I was so excited--and even a little bit teary--to see my very first Plymouth gentian with my own eyes. Not just in photos. Not just in the poster of coastal plains flora that is on my office wall. But actually living and breathing in front of me. I couldn't get a photo exactly in front of it because I didn't want to get any closer, lose my balance, and fall over in the water, or get too close to the flower. So I worshiped from a respectable distance, and trusted my camera to do its best to catch it for me.

Maybe if everyone shared that sort of joy that I feel in seeing a single rare flower, our world wouldn't be in the mess it's in. Seeing a plant like this rare beauty gives me hope. It really does.

Busy as a Bee...or maybe three!

It's been busier than life as this bee the past couple of weeks. Figuring I have had only a couple of days off in the past four months, I decided it was time to take a little partly-me time. So with Lowell and the rest of the family guarding the family homestead from invasion by giant hogweed, I headed out this morning to visit a number of sites before ending at my good friend's place in Sandford, outside of Yarmouth.

Along the way, I called in on several friends gardens, garden centres. Photos were taken. Plants were dug up. Plants were purchased (for the friend I was going to visit, mostly. Honest.) Among the ports of call a garden in Greenwood that has a truly impressive collection of graceful grasses, from tiny baby grasses only a couple of inches tall to giant miscanthus. I want this grass, the Arundo donax (forget its cultivar. )Not invasive here, though I read that it gets rambunctious in other gardens.

At a friend of a friend's garden, we were dazzled by his selections of grasses, including the giant Miscanthus giganteus. Here it is attempted to eat him. We nicknamed it 'Audrey Too.'

Around lunchtime, I stopped in Annapolis Royal and after checking out my favourite store, 'Charade,' I went down to the farmer's market where I discovered a woman doing a wonderful art using painted paper tole reproductions of monarch butterflies. I was so totally delighted with them, I bought one for a gift and may have to go back and get a second one for me. This woman's brochure includes a little story about why she started creating jewelry and sculpted works of art using monarchs as her inspiration. It was a nice story.

Short post because I'm way tired, and tomorrow is another busy day. Opps. Make that, today is another busy day. You just never know where we might turn up, but I can guarantee there will be plants involved. And for those of you who are interested, I saw purple hydrangeas tonight. We'll see some tomorrow, for sure.