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!

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?

Having a Hellebore good time for Bloom Day

For a couple of years I was seriously challenged by hellebores, and unfortunately at the same time I had a deep and abiding passion for them. I don't know what it is that appeals most to me: their early rising to cheer our hearts or their complex and lovely flowers. They look somehow extremely exotic to me, and considering the fact that I have a lot of diverse, lovely and sometimes exotic 'stuff' growing in my gardens, that's quite a statement. They just fascinate me.

And they used to defeat me, because of two things: the capriciousness of our late winter/early spring weather, and the ongoing hassles with drainage. Clay has its advantages, generally being nutrient rich and holding moisture in summer, especially if you mulch it. However, it can also hold too MUCH water in winter and spring. Saturated soil is not good for many plants, including hellebores. But finally I located the best spots for them, and they're doing well, also thanks to the tutelage of Frances of Faire Garden and Barbara of Mr. McGregor's Daughter fame, who have been my hellebore mentors, so to speak.

But we're a little ahead of ourselves here, so to speak. There's actually quite a bit blooming in my garden this April Bloom Day (Thanks to Carol for hosting this longrunning meme!) Along with the usual forsythia-which still gladdens my heart even if it's common-as-dirt--we have snowdrops, and puschkinia, and glory-of-the-it-better-NOT-snow (Chionodoxa) and the first of my beloved pulmonaria (Redstart and an unnamed P. angustifolia seedling).

While the double galanthus are winding down, the single flowered forms are still going marvelously strong. And we have iris reticulata, and still have all kinds of crocus happening--some of them just coming on. That's the advantage of living where we do. Although spring comes slowly sometimes, the cooler weather also means that things last longer. Or so I console myself. (was that REALLY snow falling earlier, or just chunks of frozen clouds? Whatever they were, they didn't stay around.)

Okay, back to slobbering over hellebores. Yes, they're glorious. They're also apparently quite promiscuous once they get going, though I haven't yet detected any seedlings around mine. The first two to join our family and stay with us were 'Ivory Prince' (above) and the less showy but still wonderful H. purpurescens. There's also H. 'Red Lady', who is a little shy and slow but coming along nicely.

I have a new love now. Yes, yes, I do. Meet 'Golden Sunrise', who utterly seduced me with glowing, rich colours, and got into the back of my car before I could argue. I could sit staring at those flowers with their aurora borealis-like colours for hours. I don't think that will make them bloom longer or stronger, but I'm totally smitten.

However, there will be others coming to join the hellebore family very soon. I have four new cultivars waiting for me at my friend's nursery, including (gasp!) 'Metallic Blue Lady.' Almost as cool as a blue poppy. And the mail is bringing other surprises soon.

Obviously my Urgent Plant Seeking Madness is not going away any time soon.

Happy Bloom Day, everyone!

Urgent Plant-Seeking Madness: Do you have this Condition?

In my previous post I mentioned how the initial signs of Urgent Plant Seeking Madness (UPSM) were upon me, as witnessed by my foray out on Saturday "just for a look" and my return home with the car packed with plants. Ooops.

Others of you have commented that you've also been stricken--or smitten--with this condition. You may have it and not even be aware of it, or you may already be in the full-blown condition. In the interest of public (garden bloggers) health, I thought I'd offer a reprise of a post I did several years ago, with some additions and of course shiny new photos. Gotta have more pretty pictures, don't we?

UPSM affects a broad spectrum of individuals. It’s closely related to Urgent Plant HUNTING Madness, which is a less-known form that causes botanists, nursery operators, garden writers, and other plant enthusiasts to go off on forays to exotic locales such as the Himalayas, outer Mongolia, central Africa, and Newfoundland and Labrador. UPHM sufferers should have bumperstickers on the backs of their vehicles that say, “I brake for interesting plants”.

There is no known cure for either affliction, other than a change of seasons, or an exhausted bank account. Even an overflowing garden doesn't cure the situation. You'll figure out ways to make more beds. Who needs boring ol' lawn, anyway?




Here are the warning signs of UPSM:

1. All winter you’ve been salivating over blog posts, catalogues, websites and magazines, learning about new plants.

2. You’ve got a list longer than your regular grocery list of ‘Must Have’ plants.

3. You can’t pass by a nursery, garden centre, or even a bigbox asphalt ‘garden centre’ without going in. Just. For. A. Look.

4. You come out of said business with at least one garden-related item. Probably more like six or seventeen. Or two dozen. Or so.

5. You carry a tote box, plastic trunk liner, spade and bucket with you wherever you go.

6. You find the need to have to go run errands far more often. No matter that the price of gas is approaching that of a dentist appointment. There are plants to be checked out!


7. Your grocery budget takes a dip towards hamburger helper, peanut butter, and canned soup.

8. You start parking your vehicle around the back of the house, so as to unload your ‘groceries for the garden’ (as my friend Flora and HER long-suffering spouse call these outings) more conveniently (and out of view of your long-suffering spouse, who’s getting tired of peanut butter sandwiches and hamburger helper).

9. An enormous queue of new acquisitions lines itself up along your walkway in your dooryard (That’s Maritimer-speak for driveway/walkway/front yard), or your holding bed, or your greenhouse. Or your kitchen. We do what we gotta do to protect those new little darlings.

10. Despite that enormous queue, you continue to suffer from UPSM and to seek out nurseries, plant sales, yardsales with plants, garden centres, plant giveaways…

11. The first thing your longsuffering spouse says to you when you come home from an expedition is “Where are you going to plant THAT?” The second thing, of course, is “what are we having for supper? Not MORE hamburger helper!”

12. You blithely say, "Oh, that's been here for years!" when confronted about the new magnolia or Japanese maple or plot of hellebores or three dozen Osteospermums that have suddenly appeared in your yard. You change the subject to, "When are you going fishing, dear?" or some such diversionary tactic.

13. You plan Sunday drives/family outings so that they'll accidentally go past nurseries. And then, well, since you're in the area, you need to stop in. Just. for. a. minute.

14. While longsuffering spouse drives, you scan roadsides for houses with tables of plants for sale, even though you KNOW they'll mostly be stuff you already have. And damned ol' goutweed.

15. You make up excuses to go off by yourself for drives. Just to do some thinking, you know. (and because you don't want to waste valuable vehicle space with other family members.)

You can’t wait for the next trip so you can do it all again!