Crocosmia In Orange

Day 309: Around on the far end of the garage where I only see it when I'm wandering around the yard looking for post-worthy botanical bits, an orange Crocosmia is struggling to survive. It came to me as seed, courtesy of my botany partners, and was the only one of several dozen which germinated. I am assuming that since it was grown from seed as opposed to a developed bulb, it's taking longer to establish than my old red "Lucifer." It has sent out a blossom spike annually for the last several years, but the plant itself, although healthy, is not spreading with the same vigor as the red variety. I'll probably regret saying this some day ("be careful what you wish for"), but I do hope it eventually takes off. It's such a lovely colour, and not one seen as commonly as red.

Crocosmia In Orange

Day 322: It had entirely slipped my mind that my botany partners Joe and Sharon had brought me a few bulbs of their orange Crocosmia three or four years ago until I was on my way back from the compost heap and spotted this one small panicle of flowers. "Orange?" I said, and my first thought was that a red one had faded in poor soil as my irises have done in the past. Then I remembered planting bulbs from theirs, but to date, all I'd seen was foliage. My red one ("Lucifer") is long done with its blooming period. Does this one bloom later normally, or is it trying to adjust to the difference in climate between sea level and mountain? Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised, although I do know that this plant has a tendency to spread and is notoriously difficult to remove once established. That said, given its own space, it is usually content to form a large clump without encroaching on other landscaping. If you want to grow Crocosmia (and who doesn't love those showy flowers?), be sure you locate it in a permanent spot. Otherwise, you'll be pulling little baby Crocosmia bulbs for the next thirty years. Trust me, I learned the lesson early on. I hope this is a sign that Orange is happy in my back yard.

Grows Like A Weed

Day 276: Crocosmia grows like a weed here in the Pacific Northwest, so vigorously that in fact I am still digging it out of my east flower bed after ten years of diligently removing each new plant from its original position. It needs space to spread, so put it in a spot you wish to fill in, and it will reward you with a lavish display of vivid blooms. This particular cultivar is called "Lucifer," and the photos do not do the intense red flowers justice. They are spectacular against the dark green of our Doug-fir forests, or even among the lighter greens of the curated garden. The foliage is reminiscent of cat-tail leaves, long and strappy. Although I have not yet tried it, it occurred to me that it might make good material for basket-weaving, twisted and twined in the manner of iris or daylily leaves. Nature gives us many raw materials for crafts, although we generally overlook them. Give some thought to what's in your own garden. What might you put to good use?

Breakfast On The Fly

Day 265: With another day of very hot temps in the offing, I am making sure to keep my garden watered and the birdbath refreshed. Most of the activity occurs in the early hours of morning now, hummers flitting between the feeders and Crocosmia as if they can't make up their minds which they prefer, Grosbeaks lining up three abreast to drink fresh, cool water. By 1:30 PM when the thermometer stood at a blazing 95°, not a bird or butterfly was to be seen in the still air hanging weightily on the neighbourhood. When a light breeze picked up in late afternoon and shadows fell on the flowerbeds, a handful of visitors returned to try their luck.

Remember, folks, this weather isn't just hard on you. It's hard on everyone. Keep clean water out for the "little people" who give you such joy when they come to your flowers.