Just two posts ago, the garden was a profusion of pink and blue. Generally it stays like that for almost a month in Spring, but this year we seem to be skipping that season and going straight from Winter to Summer. We've had a succession of above 80 degree days (with a record 100 degree day last Thursday -- ugh!) which is, to put it mildly, a rather abrupt debut for Summer.
As a result, we have some very unhappy peas. They don't like hot weather at all, and while we had initially anticipated a bumper crop, I'll be lucky to get more than three meals' worth out of what we planted. Maybe I can stretch it a bit with an inventive pasta primavera or by adding some greenery to a carbonara, but five meals tops.
The heat has also hastened the demise of some of last week's rosy show-offs. But as compensation, it has also sped up the arrival of the next wave of color in the garden -- bright, hot, summery yellow on ground covers, tempered by the cooler white blooms on several shrubs. And if the thermometer stays in the upper reaches, we'll also soon have a red/orange/yellow rainbow of daylillies.
We have several varieties of sedum -- one which we fondly call "weedum" for it's ability to insinuate itself just about anywhere in the garden -- cracks between paving stones, in the gravel pathways, and nooks and crannies so far removed from its original location that it had to get a visa to move there. This would normally be called invasive, except that it makes such a lovely carpet and it's easy to rip out anywhere I really don't want it.
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| A carpet of "weedum" blooming |
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| Close up of "weedum" blooms |
We just filled some of the stone outcroppings at the top of the hill with topsoil and planted them with other varieties of sedum -- also known, fittingly -- as Stonecrop. All of that has started to bloom as well, unaware that it won't be summer for another two weeks.
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| Sedum kamtschaticum |
Lower down on the hill, the Alchemilla (Lady's Mantle) is also putting on a display. It's a more ladylike yellow -- paler and at a discreet distance from the foliage, looking very much like the lace mantilla from which it probably got its common name.
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| Lady's Mantle |
Here's another groundcover gone wild: Creeping Jenny. We have this in several places, though I'm responsible for its propagation -- it's not as forward as the sedum. It does a really good job of choking out weeds, and as long as I keep it caterpillar free, it displays its sunny disposition with a carpet of bright yellow blossoms every year. I also love the way it drapes over stone walls, filling in cracks and cascading from one stone to another.
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| Creeping Jenny just starting to bloom |
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| Creeping Jenny creeping |
The white counterpoint starts with Penstemon, new to the garden this year. I originally bought it because I fell for the dark red leaves, a nice counterpoint to all the greenery. But in bloom, it's even more alluring, since the foliage sets off stalks of trumpet shaped flowers.
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| Penstemon |
Then we have our Kousas -- several Japanese flowering dogwoods, both tree and shrub variety. These are not prone to the disease that has wiped out most of the common dogwood in our area. They are sturdy and reliable, but their bloom varies drastically year to year. Last year we had hardly any blooms at all, and it wasn't just us; I didn't see a single Kousa with more than 10% of the blooms it ought to have. This year's weather was clearly more conducive to Kousas. Everywhere I look I see the trees totally covered with about two years' worth of flowers, and ours are no exception. In the photo below you see shrub version to the right of the ramp and a tree Kousa just outside the parking area. The other white object is my younger daughter's 1996 Volvo which is not part of the horticultural display, but happens to match nicely.
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| Kousas and Volvo |
It's hard to see in the photo above, but we also have some lovely hydrangea quercifolia just in front of the Kousa on the ramp. That's a woodier more shrubby variety than the big bush hydrangea that I often misprune. The quercifolia grow more directly up than out. Unfortunately, we have them in locations where I'd rather they grow out than up, and I routinely lop off all their new vertical growth each spring, hoping to coax them wider. They defy me with just as much determination and we seem locked in eternal conflict over their shape. In the meantime, I grant them clemency because they produce a lovely lacework of white blossoms.
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| Hydrangea Quercifolia blossoms |
And despite all my anxiety over the big bush hydrangea (Hydrangea Macrophylla), I'm delighted to report that it looks like we'll see blooms on them before long... many many blooms. It may just be dumb luck, or perhaps I've finally figured it out, but in another week or so it looks like I'll be able to showcase some beautiful softball-sized hydrangea blossoms.
Unless this is the shortest Summer on record and we zoom back into Fall. Wouldn't that be a bitch?
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