Lilac 'Betsy Ross' |
'Betsy Ross' |
Though an old gardener, I am but a young blogger. The humor and added alliteration are free.
Lilac 'Betsy Ross' |
'Betsy Ross' |
'Cole's Red' Quince |
'Betsy Ross' |
'Annabelle' |
Red Peach |
You'll have to excuse me for the straggly appearance of this brazen forsythia, in full flower finally today on April 10th. I have at 5 different cultivars of Forsythia out in the garden ('Spring Glory', 'Meadowlark', 'Show Off', an unknown gift shrub, and several 'Golden Tines') and this single 'Golden Tines' is the only one to bloom with any show this year. Why this one? The others are straggly at best, almost barren at worst, so thank God for this front and center golden jewel. Yes, I didn't trim it last fall, didn't remove the long shoots of late summer, for I planned to bring those inside and force bloom this spring. Obviously, the cold and winter doldrums kept me from following through on that well-intentioned plan. And I'm ashamed of the unclean bed around the forsythia; I just haven't gotten even the front landscape bed ready yet for spring.
While I do hope for a bold yellow forsythia bloom each spring, I'm never surprised when the "pink forsythia", Abeliophyllum distichum ‘Roseum’ blooms only sparsely and briefly, This year it lived down to my expectations, barely attempting any blooms and showing none of its usual pink blush, white fragility in the flesh. I've had this shrub for 13 years, so it is hardy here, but certainly not vigorous and it hardly provides any show, early bloomer that it is. It was already at peak bloom here, on April 1st this year, and already nearly barren as it yields to the rest of the garden. Sweetly scented if you get close, Abeliophyllum is a distraction for me, the earliest shrub to flower and the only one until the M. stellata gets going. I keep it for that reason, something for my soul to grasp onto as I desperately wait spring.Despite my earlier whining, my Puschkinia finally did bloom, shown here in a front bed near the edge where it begs you to bend over and look closer. Alongside the Scilla, it raises my spirts for a few weeks as I drive home for work each day, right by the garage pad where it can catch my glimpse and welcome me home.Closeup 'Abeliophyllum distichum' |
Dressing later to go to a movie, I splashed on a little aftershave and later, smelling it on my hand, I realized for the first time that the Brut® that I've used all my life has a strong aromatic resemblance to magnolia musk. Musky, earthy, heavy, the scent of magnolia reaches deep into my id and presumably that of others. Not stupid those aromacologists, those noses that know the attraction of certain fragrances. Males of my generation shy away from sweet flowery scents, but throw a little musky magnolia scent my way and they have a customer for life. Well, that, and that's what my father always used. Shades of Oedipus, is that heritage from a generation ago the reason for the long survival of that brand in a crowded market? Is America and civilization-as-we've-known-it safe as long as Brut® sells well at Christmas?
This French Pussy Willow 'Curly Locks' (Salix caprea) is also ready to open up and have its early way with the gardeners affections, but it, too, is late and slow to reach the climax of its bloom period. As I search my records, there was only one year in the last 10 that Magnolia stellata first bloomed this late. Most years, on March 26th it reaches peak bloom and it has bloomed as early as March 6th. Similarly, in most years, forsythia is already blooming well and this year it shows no signs of breaking dormancy. I wish I could tell you the normal initial bloom date of the Pussy Willow, but sadly, I've seldom noticed or written it down. Please do as I say and not as I do and be consistent in the plants you keep notes on annually. For me, the only consistency is the Scilla and the Star Magnolia, both because of their timing and their annual show.There are other signs of spring life on the prairie, however, and most notably the spring burns have started. I took this picture yesterday as I arrived home from errands standing on the garage pad looking west. Many times, I see these tall clouds of smoke billowing when I'm leaving work or on the east side of town and I'm calculating where these clouds lie in relation to my own house, praying that the neighbors haven't gotten out of hand. This one, however is far away, on the hills to the southwest of town, near the airport, 4 or 5 miles away as a crow would fly. Prairie fires always strike a little fear in my heart, but they provide comfort too, comfort that the world is normal and spring approaches once again.Most exasperating, however, was discovering that the United States Botanical Gardens conservatory has been closed to the public for over 2 years, at least according to its website. The outside gardens are open, but not the USBG conservatory. When I go to DC, I always check the schedule of lectures at the USBG, just in case I get lucky as I did when I once saw Roy Klehm lecture. This time, however, the website has not been updated for quite some time and there is no mention of a reopening date. It seems that the USBG is within the "U. S. Capitol campus" and the fools on Capitol Hill, elected and despotic, are deathly afraid that perhaps a massive revolutionary coup will be staged from within the Children's Garden or perhaps the Orchids Room. Good grief.
My dear Representatives, Senators, Supreme Court Judges, and Executive;
When in the course of gardening it becomes necessary for peoples with calloused hands and sunburned faces to dissolve the political idiot-cracy and allow visitors to the public gardens to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitles them, it is our right, nay our duty, to throw open the gates and allow the people inside. Hortus Populus, Mors Tyrannis (Let the People garden, Death to Tyrants)! You are right to fear the peasants who are most familiar with the proper use of pitchforks and shovels. Let Freedom Grow!
They sneak and crawl, go here and there.
They run, they jump, they eat, they fight,
They wander there most every night.
I think my garden mine alone,
They think the garden theirs to roam.
When nighttime falls, then out they come,
They're feeding off of my green thumb.
The garden mine in afternoons.
At night, the garden, creatures own,
They sit upon my garden throne.
The creatures linger out there still.
I surrender all to them each night,
They cede the garden, mine each light.
ProfessorRoush collected his game cameras last month and I was surprised, as always, by the life of my garden at night. I was less enthused at the skunk that made an appearance, but she seemed to be just wandering through. The coyotes are the most frequent visitors, patrolling the beds for rodents and generally just slinking around every night.
But, I recognize that life in the garden is fleeting, here one minute and gone the next minute, just like the sudden starlings in the photo above and the empty ground a few seconds later of the photo below. Notice the time stamp on these two pictures. Life is fleeting in the garden.