Archive for the ‘Spring Flowers’ Category

Loathe To Let Go

May weather in Michigan is likely to be too cold, or too hot.  As in, one extreme or the other, irregularly and unpredictably.  Yesterday saw the temperature reach 80 degrees, for Pete’s sake.  This untoward weather was attended by lots of phone calls from clients worrying that the summer was about to pass them by-could I plant their flowers right away?  We do try to get everyone planted as quickly as possible-most people understand this, and are good natured about it. I tell clients the best thing I do for them is to isolate all the world noise, and concentrate on their place.  I schedule plantings in an order suggested by the cold tolerance of the plants that need to be planted.  I have some clients for whom I have been planting for 25 years-these clients are first up.  Those clients aside, I change up plantings dates.  If you were so kind as to be planted the second week of June last year, you get an earlier date this year.  I grew up in and love a democracy-enough said.    My crews are great.  They unload the trucks, fill the pots, prep, plant topiaries and centerpieces-they do this rather than talk to me.  They wait until we are done, to talk to me.  I am crazy about them for this; they know how to set up and get ready-and leave me be to sort everything out.  I myself like to plant late, in thoroughly warm soil.  I am loathe to let go of the spring.  My tulips at the shop have been so beautiful-for at least a month.  But they are fading fast in the heat.   

The spring pots are just beginning to hit their stride.  Improvements in pansy and viola breeding has produced plants with great heat tolerance, and vigorous blooming.  I am personally still stuck on the violas, and not yet focused on the summer season.  I like the seasons-each one, in turn.  The rhododendrons outside my office at home are breathtaking right now-pale pink blooms with a flush of yellow at the throat. Those impossibly long stamens-what an elegant flower graces the rhododendron.  They speak to spring.   I am listening.

We planted up a number of galvanized troughs such as this one.  Spring plants have distinctive color and shapes that are all their own.  The kale will eventually bolt and go to seed when the hot weather arrives and stays.  Peach melba heuchera and Citron alyssum make a fine spring pair.  Lavender violas blushing peach-I know of no other flower that has coloration like this.  For the moment, the spring season maturing has my attention.

Spring white, lavender and purple-I am not ready to trade this in for a more summery look. I tour the pots and plantings at the shop every day, first thing.  I tour my own garden, last thing, every day.  It is not enough to see something briefly in a garden.  I like every bit of it to settle around my bones, and take hold.  Repeat trips in conjunction with my stubborn point of view; an unexpected change -this best describes my gardening life. 

The lettuce pots are beautiful right now. I know this will sound hopelessly archaic, but I eat iceberg lettuce and tuna every day at lunch.  Any lettuce, any mesclun roadside weed lettuce mix-a treat. The water that endows all the lettuces-I especially enjoy that which is crunchy and juicy.  Spring-eminently juicy.  Spring flowering plants are a treat to all of us who are winter weary.  Thus lettuce figures prominently in my spring container design work. Juicy and fresh-lettuce is just about the best thing spring has to offer.  

I like telling time by what is in bloom.  I have no need for an armillary, or a watch.  I have grown and tended many perennials-what I like about them the best is how they represent the season.  In spring- the hellebores, phlox divaricata, epimediums, European ginger, Solomon’s Seal-the simple violets.  Harbingers of the spring season. 

I apologize-the light at 7am is dim, and I thought I could skip hauling the tripod outside.  Though this photograph is not the sharpest, the idea is clear.  These tall thin long tom clay pots are home to burgeoning spring violas-delightful.  Spring like.

Spring in Michigan is short and sweet.  Very sweet.  The tulips-what could be better?  This tulip mix-so celebratory of spring.  Though I am racing miles ahead of the late spring season to design for summer, I so treasure our spring season.   


This pot-a strong arrangement of purple faced pansies, white violas and scotch moss in a very beautiful low bowl-this kind of spring statement sustains me.

Best Spring Ever

Our winter was benign, and left early, never to return.  Our spring has been balmy, even tempered.  I can only think of two nights where I worried about frost.  It shows.  Early spring bulbs were beautiful.  Flowering trees woke up and represented early. My hellebores, congested with blooms.   Cool nights are making every spring statement essay length.  My old tree form wisteria is gorgeous right now. In its vining form, wisteria can be a colossal irritation.  It grows too fast. It frequently refuses to bloom, after all the work you might do to feed, water, and prune properly.  It crushes anything but the strongest support. Rumor has it that some ancient estate in the south has been completely engulfed by a wisteria vine covering acres. Like I said, just a rumor from my early gardening years that I have never forgotten.  Is not any wisteria story believable?   But this year-the wisteria blooming makes me understand why gardeners put up with them.   

The tree form isolates those uncivilized and fast growing tendrils from the community at large, and keeps all their mischief confined to their own home.  My first wisteria tree was a one gallon whip; I planted the tiny thing with nothing but lawn around it for blocks. I drove 3 galvanized steel stakes into the ground as far as Fred from next door could manage.  Within a year I was tying the trunk to my steel tripod with nylon stockings. The first five years-not a good look.  My green vining version of Cousin It, bound to those silver poles-bizarre looking.  Of course, there were no flowers.  Neighbors would occasionally ask me what my intent was with that plant.         


The 6th year, my tree wisteria bust forth with hundred of fragrant lavender racemes-all of them dripping to impossible lengths.  Thousands of pea-like flowers, weeping in the most breathtaking way you could imagine. I laid down on the ground under that tree, and looked up through those flowers to the sky-a perfect gardening moment.  This spring, the wisteria is blooming everywhere-heavily.  The perfume, heady.  

Not all evidence of a great spring is so dramatic.  My old Picea Mucrunulatum have pushed forth very long candles this year.  They are going for broke.  This new evergreen growth I call spring green.  Everywhere I see plants growing robustly; they have all been coached by the mild winter season, and the milder spring.  Some years we have had no spring. An extreme winter is replaced by an equally extreme summer.  I so understand why the gardens, and the gardeners in England take my breath away.  A gentle and moderate climate is the best dance partner any gardener could ever hope for. 

The tulips at the shop are in their glory right now. Their incredible size and height I attribute to a benign frozen dormancy, and regular soaking spring rains.  Juicy. My asparagus this year-divine.

Our early spring plantings show no signs of being under siege from overly cold temperatures.  The in ground plantings have grown and thickened up; the blooming is profuse.  In this limestone pot, the new Alyssum “Snow Princess”.  A new variety that has gotten much press at trial-I will give it a try.  That distinctive alyssum spring smell-I got the message from fully ten feet away.

The crabapples have been outstanding.  The flowers on this coralburst crab-dense.  A coralburst has a naturally round lollipop shape-in bloom, they will make you smile.  This spring, our spring-every gardeners smile is a broad one. 


As Janet would say, this particular spring has been so beautiful, one could fall to the ground and weep.  That’s the kind of gardener she is.   As for me, it has been everything I ever imagined, and more.  The best spring, ever.

Boxing Up World Expression

My office windows look out onto a series of window boxes.  The box right behind my desk is, as you can see, a magnet for wild life.  How MCat manages to insert himself between the flowers and the glass without so much as a petal being ruffled-I have no idea.  These old factory windows are cloudy with lime, but I have a view, none the less.  On a lark, I planted World Expression tulips in them last fall. 

The lark part has to do with plants (in this case bulbs) surviving a winter boxed up. Few plants like to live over a winter with their roots above ground.  The repeated freezing, thawing and heaving wreaks havoc; all any plant wants over the winter is to sleep deeply, and undisturbed.  Had I been a better gardener, I would have lined the boxes with sheet insulation first-in an effort to keep the freeze consistent once it came. I just buried them deep, mulched them, and kept my fingers crossed.  

World Expression is one of my favorite tulips.  The plants develop surprisingly fast, considering how large they are.  When I am in the mood to contemplate the miracle that is nature, tulips instantly spring to mind.  From a brown orb barely an inch and a half in diameter comes a plant whose luxurious leaves grow in excess of 14 inches tall; the flower and stalk take the plant to 28 inches or better.  Miraculous.  I understand that giant trees grow from tiny seeds, but tulips grow up and hold forth in the blink of an eye.  In the beginning the flowers are small; the red flames are really pink,  the  white ground is a yellow ivory. 

Tulips open in an immature stage; watching the flower grow and change color dramatically is one of their charms.   It may take better than a week for that pink to go red, and longer than that for the white to whiten all the way up.

We had a very mild winter; the tulips in the boxes are amazingly good.  The box with the maximum amount of exposure to the snow, sun cold and wind tells the story of that exposure.  A few bulbs only sprouted undersized leaves.  Others of them produced undersized plants and flowers.  But by and large, there is quite the show going right now.

As I wrote a long time ago, I grew up without TV-weather was my idea of a one hour drama, movie, or news flash.  Buck will watch the weather on TV, but has a very narrow range of tolerance for anything venturing very far from 70 degrees and sunny. I like all kinds of weather-a spring rain is a favorite.  What it does for all those things coming to life and growing is beautiful to behold.

Just after the rain, equally as beautiful.  I do have a fondness for bi-color flowers; how tulips flame is particular to their species.

The flowers quadrupled in size over a period of 10 days; I began to worry they would flop over to the ground.  Though the flowers are huge, they are remarkably weather resistant.    

The 80 degree wind yesterday-fierce.  I worried every petal would be blown into the street. I need not have bothered; most every flower survived just fine. 

Now is such a good time to decide where in your garden some tulips might be just grand.  I have 3 yellow tulips at home in my wild garden-the walnut sized flowers have been there for 15 years.  I am thinking I do not want to miss this part of spring ever again.

New Lime

New Lime is a paint color from Benjamin Moore. 2025-30, to be exact.  Jenny just painted 4 terra cotta pots this color for a client-I am very interested to see what she plants in them. Whatever she does, it will be exciting to the eye.  I have a long history of fascination with lime green.  I can still see my mother’s raised eyebrows when I picked out a lime green dress for my junior prom-never mind the reaction of my classmates all decked out in peach, pink and blue chiffon.  To my eye, lime green is all about watery fresh, mint, new, light, lively-everything a spring garden has to offer.  My Princeton Gold Maples are lime green all summer-but when the first leaf out-this I would call wildly lime.  Delish. 

There are few hellebores I would turn away from my garden, but I have a particular love of the green ones.  There is something about that color that says spring so strongly, I am not able to resist. 

The giant maple in my fountain garden blooms chartreuse, and leafs out new lime.  Though the leaves turn dark green as they mature, this is my favorite time for them.  Even the blue of the sky seems new. 

Many white flowers are stained green-hellebores are no exception. Ranunculus, dahlias, Japanese anemones, Sally Holmes roses-what I like best about white flowers is the green that comes with them. 

Lime green hostas so light up a shady spot.  The beds of Sum and Substance hosta on either side of my drive are veastly better than landscape lighting at dusk.  This picture was taken late in the summer-the plants still look fresh. Chartreuse green has the effect of endowing any other color with a little electricity.   

This spotted hellebore is from the Royal Heritage strain/mix.  Some seedlings grow up a dark and muddy rose/red/mauve-not my favorites. I do like the spotted flowers; that background green makes that wine red spotting read clearly.  Not that I have one thing against mud-every gardener’s spring is chock full of it.  I am not in the mood for moody in the spring.This green lace primrose is as frilly and cheery as any spring flower I have ever seen.  Everything I have read tags this plant as a zone 6-I would not expect it to be hardy in my area, unless I make special provisions, and pray a lot.   However, they do wonders for a spring container planting. 


The asparagus in my yard has been popping up for several weeks-though its color is a darker version of lime, they make my mouth water. 


To give your spring containers a big dose of luscious, lime them up.  New lettuce is a great companion plant.  Other good green choices for spring containers?  Parsley, rosemary, strawberries, creeping jenny, angelina.  But this lettuce is a one-plant brass band playing that tune, spring is in the air.