Bridal Wreath Spiraea

Day 212: Many of the plants in my yard were chosen because of childhood associations like lilac, peonies, columbine and lily-of-the-valley. Most of them have a connection with my grandmother, although it was my grandfather who grew them. He passed away when I was quite young, so it was my grandmother who maintained the yard thereafter. I believe my love of Bridal Wreath Spiraea was born there, but I cannot remember where the bush was placed, only that when it was in bloom, it brought to my young mind the thought of a cloud descended to earth. When it shed its petals, it became no more than background noise, its small leaves and wiry branches nondescript, unremarkable. The flowering period is relatively short: one burst of glory and then decline, but in my grandmother's yard, that brief time was enough for this shrub to establish a lifetime niche in my gardening soul.

Spring Whites

Day 220: Although one could hardly say it's a hard-and-fast rule, I've noticed over the years that there are "colour seasons" here in the Pacific Northwest. The blues come on first, followed by whites, then yellow, trailed slightly later by reds and oranges, then back into purples and blues to close. Certainly, there are strays, particularly when non-native species join the parade, but by and large, we have Camas, Dogwood, Scotch Broom, Paintbrush and Arnica, shading out into Asters and Gentians. Currently, we're in white mode, and that includes nursery plants. Snowball bush, Mountain-ash, Lily-of-the-Valley and Spiraea are in full flower in my yard, with the Columbines just beginning, and an embarrassed early Peony hiding its red face shyly behind their foliage. My flower beds will peak in two or three weeks, then slowly taper off until I start thinking I should buy some Chrysanthemums for fall. But I never do. It seems so silly to add them when I know first frost is just around the corner.

Virtual Tour

Day 227: My readers have often heard me speak of my lackadaisical approach to gardening, but over the last several years, I've put more effort into it than previously, putting in new flowerbeds, planting trees and shrubs, working in soil amendments and so on. Well, I am reaping much greater rewards than anticipated for the little effort those labours have actually been, and this year, I am pleased to say that my yard actually looks like a gardener lives here. Please join me for a virtual tour of a few of the plants currently in bloom.

We'll start in the upper left corner with Bachelor's Buttons. They are regarded as something of a pest by many people, but they remind me of my mother's garden when I was very young. I nicked my plant from a roadside ditch where it had strayed from someone's garden. It grows like a weed, so I maintain it to keep it from spreading.

The second image is of the Bridal Wreath Spiraea I added to the front yard last year, again a plant which recalls the gardens of my youth. My grandmother had a huge one. Mine is only about two feet tall, having grown about a foot since I planted it.

Next in line is a commercial cultivar of the blue Columbine familiar to most Montanans. I purchased it as a tiny start a year ago as part of my colour replacement plan to substitute blues for pinks. It is my favourite Columbine.

The daisies in the fourth photo are Delospermum, an annual. They fill the top of a small strawberry jar. They are succulents, and therefore can survive near-drought conditions. I couldn't decide which of three colours I liked best: orange, yellow or red, so I got all three.

The bottom row starts with Siberian Iris, and yes, these can also become quite a pest. Mine came with the house, and I thin them out every few years to keep them from taking over the yard.

Next is the lilac, and thereby hangs a tale. It was not in good shape, so I took the recommendation of a gardening handbook and hacked it off a foot above ground level. The manual assured me that it would come back to full glory in four years. Only this year, approximately fifteen years from its major surgery, is it in full and lavish bloom. Lesson learned. I'll never do that again.

Oriental poppies are a flower I can't hate but can't exactly love, either. They also grow like weeds and spread wildly. It took me ten years to remove the last traces of this one's forebears from the east-side flowerbed, but I couldn't bear to kill it off entirely. It now lives in the "Barren Wasteland" between my house and garage, happy as Larry and providing a blast of colour where it's really needed.

Lily-of-the-valley brings back memories of sitting on my grandmother's back steps when I was three or four years old, surrounded by sweet fragrance. The scent was one Grandma also wore as perfume: Muguet de Bois.

Last is Lithodora, its vibrant stars so shockingly blue that visitors can hardly believe they're real. As far as I'm concerned, it can take over the entire bed beside the driveway, a spot in which it seems to be quite happy.

There are other things in bloom in my yard as well: Bleeding-heart, Kerria, fat blood-red peonies, heather, snapdragons, the Akebia vines...and there are even more things to come, to say nothing of shrubs and ferns and other foliage plants. When I look out over the garden now, somehow I forget all about those days of weeding until my back ached and my fingernails were broken and filthy. It's been worth it all.

Nostalgia Garden

Day 200: As I walk around my yard, I can't help but notice how strongly my choice of plants has been influenced by what was in my grandmother's garden. When I began selecting perennials for the beds, my "must-have" flowers were almost exclusively those I had seen in cultivation before I had attained the ripe old age of five. I recall clearly sitting on her back porch step, enveloped in a thick perfume of Lily-of-the-Valley, and braiding coronets of the stiff, arching stems of Bridal Wreath Spiraea. No garden of her era was complete without Bachelor's Buttons and Columbine, nor without single Hollyhocks growing against a sunny back wall. Ironically, it was my grandfather who was the gardener; my grandmother simply reaped the rewards, and although the garden dwindled after Grandpa's death, my association with sweet-smelling, beautiful flowers is firmly tied to her.