What Happens When?

 Most gardeners have a pretty solid understanding of which flowers bloom first. Expectations, you might say. For some, those first flowers come in the form of bulbs. But which ones? Like I said before, it is a slippery slope. This tulip was planted by a squirrel or chipmunk. In the lawn. Decades ago.

the one, single, lonely tulip that we never planted

 

But then the bulbs start to transition into the early perennials and shrubs start to push up or leaf out. By the time the weather warms up, the rain stops, and the bugs come out... it is time for everything to suddenly become magically green. It can be an intoxicating green-ness, until the neighbor's mower shatters the reverie. Nothing ruins the daydream sunshine quite like the smell of exhaust and the roar of the lawnmower. 

 

Purple smokebush, Cotinus coggygria 'Royal Purple'

I try to get outside early in the morning. Before the sun, but after the birds. The birds get up absurdly early. The frogs stay up late partying. They tend to sleep in. The bees are usually trying to find the perfect flower as the dew burns off. Lately, we've had very few bees. Usually by now we see the apple trees covered in solitary bees, honeybees, and big bumblebees. Not this year. I dont know if the week and a half of constant rain has flooded them out or if they are still snug in their burrows. I miss them. 

This year, I am trying to keep track of what is blooming at the same time. I doubt that bloom time syncs up quite the same, year to year... but I figured it might be worth keeping track of, if only so I can look back and say, yep, that came out just before such and such. Breadcrumb reminders that come with warm toast memories. 

columbine, aquilegea hybrids

The first blossoms on most of the late spring flowers seem to have bedhead. I dont know if it's a product of having to struggle getting out of the ground, or if they've been frozen and thawed more times than my bag of frozen peas. Whatever the cause, I smile at their awkward struggle. 

geranium phaeum

Some flowers are almost nonexistent. Geranium phaeum isn't a showstopper. But if I only grew it for the foliage, it would still be one of my favorites. Right now, the soft mounds of rich green foliage fill in the gaps along the edges of the paths, hiding the open wood chips between the larger perennials that haven't woken up fully. The tiny purple-black flowers nod at the ends of their ultra thin stems, creating that feeling like they are flying away. And best of all... they are ridiculous thugs. They can go head to head with vinca and hold their own. 

camassia leichtlinii Caerulea

Camassias are just starting to shift their buds from green to blue with the sweetest, tiniest slice of purple in that soft blue. Another warm day like today, and the camassias will pop! Blue stars will burst over the tops of all the other still waking perennials in the bed. The aquilegea are just getting started, but by the time the camassias are showing off, the columbine will begin their dance high above everything else.

Aquilegea 'Swan Burgundy and White'

 I am excited to see some of the larger show-stopping perennials that are just getting started, growing like asparagus shoots. Baptisia is one of those plants that I fell in love with at first sight. A lupine crossed with a grizzly bear. It took me a long time to finally get a few growing in the garden. Ironic considering how tough the plants are once they are established. I saw a baptisia australis last summer that was fully seven feet wide and four feet tall. Turns out, that isn't extraordinary! Of course, after falling in love, I had to have more. We started a slew of seeds we acquired from a fellow plantsman... and despite warnings that the seeds would be difficult to germinate, we have had ridiculous success. I am trying to curb my enthusiasm, knowing full well that it may be five years or more before I see the first new bloom on these seedlings.  In the meantime, I will satisfy myself with some of the older baptisias that we've picked up from sales, swaps and nurseries. 

baptisia australis

Nothing says Spring quite like the rich pink/purples of allium. Having grown a few varieties in the past, I am always excited to see these purple ones start to break bud. I wish we had some of the larger varieties... maybe someday.

Allium aflatunense Purple Sensation

 

 One thing we added to the perennial beds last fall were hostas. Up until last year, I had always assumed hostas needed deep shade. Turns out that is half-true. You can make up for a little more sun by providing a little more water. Our yard is nothing if not wet.

hosta NOID

 Watching the various hostas unfurling has been fantastic this year. We have some serious extreme differences in sizes. 'Little Mouse Ears' (from Roz!) is the cutest little thing, so I planted it where I will see it at my feet every day when I walk past. There are other hostas, like 'Humpback Whale' that are starting to live up to their name. We acquired 'Humpback Whale' at a plant swap, and it came in a 4" pot. Tiny little division. I dont know how you get a hosta into that small of a piece of plant. We didn't have a place to put it the first year we had it, so it over-summered and over-wintered in a pot. The pot was sunk into a bed of woodchips, which probably helped. After finally giving it a permanent home last fall, it has taken off. This year, it is about five feet away from our ancient rhubarb. 'Humpback Whale' seems to be making goo-goo eyes at the rhubarb. Luckily there's a spirea surrounded by Siberian iris 'Caesar's Brother' between them. 

The forecast calls for rain over the remainder of the week. By the time the weekend arrives, the temperature will go up another ten degrees, the sun will come out... and the bugs will start going for my eyes and ears... but the plants will jump!