Small pleasures

Some small pleasures tucked away in my garden are coming into bloom.

This dark-leaved coral bells Heuchera "Chocolate Ruffles" would be almost invisible if not for its fizzy white flowers. Because it's in the shadow of a yew, it's easy to pass by. You have to work a little for this pleasure.



What a delightful surprise to discover this wild columbine growing under the evergreens.



These reclusive blossoms remind me of childhood summer trips to the Chesapeake Bay. While my father was attending board meetings of a YMCA camp, the rest of us would explore the sandy bluffs overlooking the water. At the right time and with the right attention to one's surroundings, these red flowers could be glimpsed. They bring back memories of travelling in our tail-finned station wagon, scooping up sea nettles, and stopping for sherbet at a roadside stand with swinging screen doors and fruit machines.

Another wildflower that blooms without any human intervention is the mayapple. Every spring, a line of them forms along the back fence. I'm glad that they let me share their turf.

Memorial day

On this Memorial Day, I took a rest from my on-going battle against the Japanese knotweed invasion to remember some of the wonderful gardeners, past and present, whose horticultural gifts are flowering in my garden today.

First off, I have from my mother a multitude of lilies of the valley. These grew in an azalea bed next to her house in Maryland. For several years, she allowed me to take a big clump each spring. Now I have so many, they are popping up in my lawn.



Usually, they bloom in early May but this year they are a few weeks late. This woodland phlox (Phlox divaricata) hitched a ride with the lilies of the valley and has found a happy home at the front margin of the same bed.



These bluish mauve columbines were a gift from my work colleague and super New England coastal gardener, TRH, who received them from her father in the Midwest.



And from the same source comes the most hearty yellow iris.



My very horticulturally active sister-in-law kindly gave me a host of bi-colored irises. They bloom more lushly every year.



I am so grateful for all of these heirlooms!

Call of the wild

Although constrained by an exceedingly suburban setting and enclosed by a white picket fence, my mother’s garden included a variety of wildflowers. Some of these she selected for personal reasons: a line of bouncing bet (Saponaria officinalis) reminded her of how she teased her older sister, Betty, when they would see that plant growing wild near the New Jersey shore.



Long afternoons spent by the Chesapeake Bay while my father was busy with YMCA camp meetings were commemorated with a few wild columbines (Aquilegia canadensis) transplanted from the sandy woodlands. A little Maryland boosterism may have been the reason for the black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta), which I remember her stopping the car in order to uproot from the roadside.



(Yes, those were very different plant collecting days back then!) Reasons for other wildflowers in her garden--woodland phlox, purple loosestrife (sterile, of course), evening primrose--elude me. These native plants were on their good behavior in my mother’s garden—they exuded strong presence, bloomed heavily, and rarely strayed. I’ve been thinking that these natives might just have something there. Okay, not the purple loosestrife, but a clump of evening primrose may be in my future.

(Mother) Nature abhores a vacuum

Two years ago, I put in a small bed along the side property line. Today, it is bursting with irises, columbines, phlox panticulata "David," shasta daisies, nepeta, lady's mantle, and ladybells.


Over the Memorial Day weekend, I finished double digging another small bed on the opposite side of the property. Its 3 x 10 foot dimensions consumed about 6 cubic feet of peat moss, 40 pounds of sand, and 200 pounds of composted cow manure. Thank goodness for my iPod and a 15-year-old boy eager to earn a few dollars doing yardwork!


The idea was that this bed would be a holding pen for plants displaced from other locations (such as the back of the house during the ever-distant kitchen renovation). However, after an exhilarating trip to the nursery and a brutal review of divisions received from family members, I managed to more than fill every available inch. Yes, I found myself in negative space.


For the record, the following plants made the cut: three lirope from CMF in Hunt Valley, two vintage ("Grandmother's Garden") and one modern ("McKana Hybrid") purple columbines, three yellow digitalis, three "Gold Tiara" hostas, three astilbe "Rheinland," and four no-name bearded iris from SW in Lancaster. In a year or so, this bed should be a blend of purples, pinks, yellows, and greens. Or the spirea blooming this time along the back will have proved to be too much visual competition, this bed will go all hosta, and I'll be looking for another spot to dig.