Tag Archives: spring flowers

A greenness grew

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Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

On this first day of May, I look out the window and see green – green! – on the tree branches. Flowers have been blooming since February – snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, tulips – and their color is so welcome.  Yet when the woods light up in delicate green, it feels as if spring is complete.

The ostrich ferns have completely unfurled, refracting light through their intricate fronds

while the sunlight pouring through white daffodil ‘Bella Coola’ turns its petals translucent.

The weather has had several wild swings this spring, hot summer temperatures for days in early spring followed by deep drops into bitter cold, the process repeated again and again. Yet the plants have survived somehow, resilient and beautiful.

Parts of the garden have come fully into bloom – the grape and lemonade bed is always its showiest this time of year.

‘Shirley’ tulips with forget-me-nots
‘Shirley’ tulip
Grape and lemonade bed

After years of tolerating our makeshift garden gate built of fence parts, I found a beautifully crafted gate to create a dramatic entrance into the garden.

Green isn’t the only foliage color in the garden now – the red Japanese maples have fully unfurled their leaves

as has the purple smokebush entwined with Clematis ‘Sweet Sugar Blues’.  Our wild violets (Viola sororia) have been blooming for weeks and are now joined by the soft blue and white blossoms of hardy geraniums.

My latest garden video traces the gradual emergence of spring and the light that shines through the garden at this bewitching time of year.

Wherever you are in the world, and in whatever season you find yourself, may you see the light shining through the beautiful things around us.

Garden Dreams

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Is there a gardener living who doesn’t dream of what a new garden season can bring? Our long winter months in the American north encourage that dreaming. The sharp changes from warm to frozen and back again inspired me to freeze some hellebore buds in ice to reflect this spring’s crazy weather. The seeds I ordered by Christmas were planted indoors under lights and outdoors in wintersown jugs by early February. Lists of  plants were made and remade, then ordered – they are now arriving almost daily.

The garden slowly evolved from its late winter glow

into early spring bloom

and then into vibrant spring color.

The weeping cherry in the center of the circle garden bloomed early and profusely. As always, it was alive with hungry pollinators looking for a early meal.

Gradually it released its petals as the greens of the garden emerged,

followed by fragrant purple sandcherry blossoms perfuming the air near the deck.

My biggest garden dream this year is to plant several new woodland garden beds with all native plants. For the past three years, I have been systematically removing invasive plants in the woods and plants that are not pollinator friendly in the garden beds. My longterm goal is to have 70% of the garden plants be native (the woods are already 90%). As I increase that percentage each year, more insects and birds take up home here and grace the garden with their presence.

I’ll be tracking my progress this year as part of a collaboration with some YouTube garden friends as we each pursue and document our garden dreams over the year. Here is my first installment of the video series, let me know what you think below in the comments. Happy garden dreams!

Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

 

Here I wander in April

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Here I wander in April
Cold, grey-headed; and still to my heart
Spring comes with a bound, Spring the deliverer,
Spring, song-leader in woods, chorally resonant . . . ~Robert Louis Stevenson

True, it is the last day of April as I write this, but in my wanderings I have watched spring come with a bound to lead the garden in song.

In March, there was little hint of what was to come.

Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Bronte

Hello, sun in my face. Hello you who made the morning and spread it over the fields…Watch, now, how I start the day in happiness, in kindness. ~Mary Oliver

First the hellebores

and the native bloodroot bloomed . . .

followed by daffodils of every color. (click on any photo to see a full-size image)

Daffodil mix
Daffodil ‘Pipit’
Daffodil ‘Sentinel’
Daffodil ‘Blushing Lady’
Daffodil ‘La Traviata’
Daffodil ‘Bella Coola’

The native Ostrich ferns unfurled (Matteuccia struthiopteris), showing off their fractal geometry

Looking in the center
fern unfurling
fern reaching out

as well as creating a textured backdrop for the summer snowflakes.

Pixie is joyously exploring the new smells and sounds of the woods and guards her domain with diligence and grace.

A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know almost nothing. ~Mary Oliver

I planted tulips last fall, for the first time in years, and am reveling in their color along with the thousands of our native wild violets that run through the garden beds.

Tulip ‘Paul Scherer’
Tulips ‘Paul Scherer’ and ‘Apricot Beauty’ – Kokopelli planter
Tulip ‘Princess Irene’
Viola sororia
Tulip ‘Princess Irene’

but the biggest show is in the “Grape and Lemonade” bed – full of tulips, daffodils, and forget-me-nots.

I’m continuing to explore making garden videos – I want to share how it feels to move through the garden rather than merely look at it.  

Wherever you are in the world, I hope you are enjoying the unfolding of the new season as color and light change and make magic in the world.

Come with me into the woods where spring is
advancing, as it does, no matter what,
not being singular or particular, but one
of the forever gifts, and certainly visible.  ~Mary Oliver

All photos, text, and video ©2023 by Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved except where noted.

A lapse of time

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No matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. ~Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

When I looked back over the year, I was surprised at some of the moments of beauty in the garden. Perhaps it was because I didn’t write about it or share many photos of it, or just that my attention was required elsewhere. My first blog of the year was in March and the second was in November, a long stretch of time without words, without pictures. It seems fitting at the end of the year to share some of the garden moments from April to October, the missing moments of the garden.

It was a turbulent year from the start, with weather alternating sharply between freeze and thaw, blue skies and gray, sunshine and fog, rain and snow. I cut some forsythia buds before a March snowstorm and brought them into the warmth to bloom.Forsythia cuttingsThe gateway to the garden changed quickly over the seasons, from a sudden snow in early April to the lushness of June. (click on any photo to see a larger image in the gallery)

Arbor in April Snow
Arbor after snow
Foggy garden
Fog through the gate
Arbor in May
Arbor in June

Once through the gate, the steps and hillside leading to the lower garden went through the same transformation, from a hint of the garden to come to the lush growth of early summer.

early April
late April
end of April
late May

The lower garden, distinctive in its concentric circles, transformed quickly in April beginning with the flowering of the weeping cherry in April then slowing down through the lushness of June and into late summer. By then, the deep transformation of the garden beds through months of pruning and removing unwanted plants left only the Hydrangea ‘Limelight’ and the native Phlox paniculata blooming.

Early April
Mid-April
Late April
June
August

There were some beautiful moments where flowers took front and center throughout the seasons.

Woodland peony
Garden peony
Daffodils and tulips
Blossoms of purple sand cherry
Lungwort and geraniums
Historic bearded iris
Lilac ‘Miss Kim’
Ensata iris
Clump of iris
Allium ‘Purple Sensation’
Rose ‘Complicata’

Drastic weather events continued in June, when a tornado ripped through our neighborhood for 15 minutes, downing hundreds of beautiful oak trees. We suffered little damage on our property, losing one tree and another one injured, but our neighbor’s oaks crashed across the road and into our driveway, hanging by the electric lines. Until the power was turned off, we were trapped in our property with live wires in our side yard. Eventually, we were able to creep through the downed trees and several days later, they were cut down by the electric company and removed by the township. We were lucky to escape with only inconvenience and little damage to the gardens; others were trapped in their wooded properties for weeks, only able to leave by foot.

Trees hanging on the wires
Storm cuttings blocking our drive
Clear skies after the tornado

The upper deck became a small sanctuary during the summer as my garden helpers and I worked on a long overdue transformation of the garden beds. The bees and butterflies found their way up to the blooms and the cherry tomatoes were a sweet treat on hot summer days.

Upper deck
Towers of flowers
Bee friendly plants
Sweet potato vine in September
Cherry tomatoes in July
Cherry tomatoes in August

By October, a few plants were still in bloom, the autumn crocus, some roses, but the season was coming to an end.

Single flowering dahlia
Rose ‘Blushing Knockout’
Autumn crocus

I had two cataract surgeries in October, restoring my sight and my ability to take and accurately edit photos, something that had been difficult this year. Fortunately, I was able to shoot photos with my cell phone and press my finger to the surface to focus! It has been a challenging yet rewarding year of sudden starts and stops, crazy weather, loss of loved ones, yet also a year of renewal and regeneration both in my garden and in my self.

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.  ~Lao Tzu

I leave you with my favorite photo of Angel from this year, as she stood beneath an arbor of roses. May all good things come to you in the new year, my dear readers – thank you for your patience with my absence on these pages and your kind gift of time and attention. May the year of 2022 bring you great blessings and joy!

Hope is the thing

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Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

Angel and I stood out under the almost full moon last night. She was restless, so was I, and the moonlit woods beckoned to us, mysterious and full of the sounds of night creatures awake and moving. I stood and watched the sky while she investigated every rustle and sigh – it was nearly midnight before we returned to the house. We were up early this morning to catch the sun.

Spring is here and the world is growing greener. I’ve been walking the garden every day, starting with the morning sun and ending at dusk and still I wish for more. Angel, at age 15, is a little gimpy, a little slower – we make a fine creaky pair as we circle the garden beds and pause for a closer look at each new flower that appears. 

The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size. ~ Gertrude S. Wister

I finally had to admit that if I wanted to keep my garden, I would have to hire help for the heavy lifting. I called my friend Bill, who built the stone walls in my garden.  

He and Ron have been weeding, pruning, moving shrubs, and mulching garden beds for me for the past few weeks. Finally, the garden that was slowly going to ruin has now re-emerged, its bones intact and eager to grow. 

The bones of the garden

I can take pleasure in the easy stuff of gardening, knowing that I have able and knowledgeable help for all of the tough jobs that I no longer can manage. I designed, dug, planted and maintained this entire garden by myself for twenty years and now wonder how I managed to do that. But being forced to slow down has its pleasures. I’ve long enjoyed the contrast of the white daisy-like flowers of Anemone blanda ‘White Splendour’ against the dusky purple foliage of Euphorbia dulcis‘Chameleon’.

For the first time, I noticed the pink and purple tones of the anemone’s flowers and stems when its petals close for the night, entangled in the purple arms of the euphorbia.

Nearby, creeping sedums (S. rupestre ‘Angelina and S. spurium purpureum) have mingled together in a jazzy gold and burgundy combination.

White forsythia (Abeliophyllum) has pink buds before it opens but I’ve never noticed them before.

White forsythia buds

Delicate as a ballerina’s pink slipper, the buds eventually give way to the sweet-scented white flowers that gives this early blooming shrub its name.

White forsythia flowers

I had the pleasure of watching daffodil ‘Verdant Meadows’ open as a yellow and white flower before it slowly paled over a few days in the spring sun, eventually becoming creamy white.

My sisters-in-law gave me a lungwort (Pulmonaria) from my mother-in-law’s garden after she passed – its first bloom of the season opened this week on her birthday, a lovely synchronicity. 

The weather is mild enough to sleep with the window open; what a joy it is to awaken to the pre-dawn bird chorus. The garden is awake and this gardener has hope that she will be able to tend to it with ease and joy, and revel in nature’s beauty. May you also have hope and beauty in your daily world as spring works it magic.

Cornus mas blossom

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.

~Emily Dickinson