Boo-yah for Spring! My front yard is preparing for the yearly white rose display. In May those bushes you see between the white iris-shaped flowers in the foreground (they are irises, surprise!), and the tall bush in the back covered with what look like snowballs (it’s a snowball viburnum, surprise!), will do their cosseted rose thing.
For now, I poke around what’s growing in the early morning light. The empty spot on the fence used to support a climbing rose. But the conjunction of its dark red petals and chartreuse viburnum leaves reminded me of Christmas so I took it out. BTW, there’s a young magnolia to the left of the empty space, just out of frame.
That’s Erigeron below the snowballs, AKA Santa Barbara daisy, AKA fleabane. I do not have fleas, so perhaps it works.
That’s a pieris. All about the leaves, innit. The red sage is just starting to bloom. Blossom #3 gets a portrait. The humming birds are licking their lip-equivalents.
And now, having deeply enjoyed this peace, creams, bright whites, quiet orange-reds and so much green, in place of the banished climber I want to plant a tall hybrid tea with ridiculously large flowers. In a blue-pink that will expressly clash with everything.
Of questionable taste. That part’s important. Visible from my kitchen window. Also important. Like this, but even more so.
I am finding that in gardens (unlike life, where I often like the wholly new) I like change at the margins and tiny novelties. Mini-subversions always a plus.
Have a wonderful weekend!
13 Responses
I never comment quickly on your posts, and I’m not sure why but I need to think. Decided today before I read it that I was going to say the first thing that came to mind.
I think you should plant a Japanese maple tree. Yep, that’s what I thought after seeing more of your beautiful garden. xo
Why thank you! I enjoy the spur of the moment:). A Japanese maple would be gorgeous, sumptuous. I have one in my back yard…
Great idea. I agree.
Happy weekend, Lisa! As always, your lovely garden photos and musings brightened mine and provided food for thought, as well.
I read and returned to last week’s post several times and never felt I could be objective enough to form an answer. I don’t know if that makes me one of the good ones or not: perhaps I’m just shy after rethinking so many of my own judgments of others over the years, never really arriving at a place of full understanding. Such things require a “need to think” that never really lets us know when it’s done. But spontaneity and joy in little novelties are so important, and they somehow seem to help with accepting the larger unknowns and braveries required in life — for me, at least. I agree with KSL about the Japanese maple. :)
Thank you so much for sharing. Have a beautiful weekend! xoxo
Of course a good one! Of course! And I agree, the little novel joys do help with the bigger mysteries and burdens.
I’d like to see a bit of exotica – Katsura Red Fox. Something out of the ordinary provides whimsy and natural beauty. Red Fox would add color and height along with unusual heart shaped leaves.
Out of the ordinary is good. I have added to the post that there’s a magnolia to the left of the empty space, just out of frame. Also a passiflora vine that you can see creeping over. Hence my vision of great big bright roses. All suggestions welcome!
Thank you for showing your garden. Made my morning. I loved it.
Thank you!
Just lovely! Including it’s variations. Passiflora cast its spell on me one day at Logee’s, along with Hybrid Tea First Prize, neither do well in my jurisdiction sadly, though I tried. My gardens have become less anxious as a result, achieving the point entirely! ☺️
I can’t tell you how much I love the idea of less anxious gardens. I have gotten rid of three camellias and a gardenia with exactly that (although unarticulated until now) goal.
That pieris! Your entire garden is poetry, but that plant in particular provokes my daydreams.
Your comments around seeking small garden novelties, as opposed to the new elsewhere in life, resonated. I come from a family of Midwestern farmers (though, alas, I did not inherit the family green thumb), and I’ve never ceased to admire and reflect upon their long-term view, their perennial patience, their willingness to relax and observe and breathe through the seasonal and annual changes.
Thank you. The pieris is SUCH a beauty. And this year it’s flowering like crazy, probably from all the rain, and I adore it. Your family reminds me of Richard Powers, they way he writes about nature.
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