Nigella, Love-In-A-Mist

Day 289: Although most of the plants in my flower beds are perennials, I like to fill in the open spots with annuals in order to have the freedom to "change it up" a bit each year. Invariably, though, there are a few stragglers from previous year, having re-seeded themselves before I could dead-head or remove pods. There have been a few I wished I'd never planted, and marigolds springs immediately to mind. As much as I love them, I was pulling marigolds for years as they cropped up in unanticipated spots. Likewise, I seem to have permanently installed tall yellow snapdragons when the dark red short ones I'd hoped would re-seed are slowly dying out, and never, ever again will I plant Lobelia in anything but a hanging basket. On the other hand, there are some faces I welcome each year, despite their visits coming as something of a surprise. One of these is Nigella, which bears the charming common name of Love-in-a-mist. I presume the "mist" portion of the nomenclature comes from the ferny, lacy foliage which surrounds the flowers, leaves which dry to a wiry state to become a basket for balloon-like maroon-and-cream seed pods. The pods are lovely in a dried arrangement, and hold their colour for months, but I always leave a few in the garden to assure more Love-in-a-mist next year.

Garden Lace

Day 272: If you've ever grown Nigella, you'll understand where it came by the common name of Love-in-a-mist. The flowers are enfolded by a lacework of fern-like leaves which curl even more tightly around the seed-pods as they mature and swell. A delight for dried-flower enthusiasts, the red markings on the pods last for years. Nigella may be left in the garden to self-sow, or if you have pods left over from arrangements, crush them and toss the seeds into your garden in the spring. Even after two years, some seeds will retain their viability. There's no reason to be without Love-in-a-mist!

Sarracenia Finale

Day 5: If you will scroll back to June 8th of this year, you may watch the progression of Sarracenia's mysterious, exotic blossom as it unfolds to the peak of its beauty on June 23d. After that date, the color began to fade and the petals curled and dried. I kept expecting them to drop, or for the dome-like structure in the center of the flower to burst, but neither happened. Sarracenia held onto her solitary bloom until it became a dry and withered husk. When a raccoon knocked over the plant stand and I found my baby spilled onto the concrete, I freaked, but unnecessarily. Neither the foliage nor the half-dry blossom sustained any major damage and in any event, I'd needed to move the colony to a larger pot before winter. The unscheduled transplanting had no particular effect on the plant; she just kept going, like the Energizer bunny. Today, I picked the withered flower, and after photographing it, consigned it to a vase where it will keep company with Nigella pods and strawflowers until dust wins out over keepsake value.