Serenity in the morning garden
The sun is just starting to peek through a border of large trees that enclose our back garden.
Silver maple, Amur maple, Austrian pine, sweet gum, cedar, dawn redwood and European hornbeam trees have knit together along our east facing back garden over the years, and throughout the season they graciously stand back and let the prima donnas of the garden take centre stage, but at sunrise, their leafy canopies are transformed into a bright green filagreed lace.
I pour myself a cup of coffee settle back at the kitchen table to watch the soft light as it travels across the garden, tracing delicate patterns across the lawn and introducing a select few plants for brief cameos in the spotlight — it’s a memorable performance.
Tucked under a canopy of towering maples, our little greenhouse takes on the persona of a giant light box when the sun hits the plastic roof and walls and illuminates the whole structure with soft, diffused light. The spaces between the horizontal slats of the wooden fence are illuminated creating interesting patterns behind the trees, like a bold chiaroscuro design of light and dark bands.
It’s the time of the summer solstice, the garden feels rich and full of potential — sure, there are weeds (they seem to appear out of thin air) and tiny bunnies with a taste for gourmet seedlings — but June is probably my favourite time of year in the garden.
Early morning visits to the garden, coffee in hand, are the times I missed most while we were exiled after the flood. I missed seeing the garden painted gentle shades of green and silvery white, the feeling of security, calm and sense of wonder that a garden affords. There were lovely trees and morning light at the rental house of course, but there is something comforting about being in your own space, knowing each tree and plant by name, remembering when it was planted and how it grew — come to think of it, after more than 30 years of living together, a garden is like family.
By 7 a.m., the sun gently kisses the tops of our circle of miscanthus grass; appropriately named ‘Morning Light’ this silver grass has blue green blades edged with white that catch the light and enliven the garden. The circle garden is anchored with a black iron obelisk loaded with a clematis buds — it will be covered in double lavender coloured blossoms any day now.
At sunrise, the top of the structure is backlit, giving a soft, frosted look to the fuzzy buds. The sun is starting to reach into the circle, illuminating a patch of tarragon and turning its willowy spires a refreshing shade of emerald green —the usually silent tarragon takes her bow in the morning light and then settles back into the shadows.
Patterns of yellow sunlight are traced across the lawn, creating a study of chartreuse and dark green, if you look carefully, you may notice how the low light seems to enhance each individual blade of grass, tiny droplets of dew sparkle like crystals in the light.
A pair of hanging baskets soften the pergola that encloses the patio. Backlit chains of golden creeping Jenny catch the soft light and seem to glow from within, cheerful purple and white pansies face toward the sun, as if taking the sunshine.
Anchoring the cutting garden, just beyond the circle, a young smoke tree is really proving his worth. Side lighting enhances the chartreuse foliage and reddish ‘smoke’ blossoms, creating a distinctive silhouette against the shadowed wall of the greenhouse. It’s interesting to note that this small tree also takes advantage of the setting sun to created a pretty focal point in the evening garden.
A young robin is splashing away in the birdbath flinging crystal droplets of water with wild abandon. The scalloped concrete rim of the birdbath is saturated with water, and appears to be a study of charcoal and white patterns and colours. A tiny bunny hops into the sunlight, no doubt in search of his next meal, I notice that his tiny ears are backlit this morning. Birdsong echoes through the treetops and the gentle sound of water as it flows into the little pond adds to the sense of calm.
At this early hour, the perennial borders step back into the shadows, the colours are muted — they have a full day on centre stage ahead of them — for now, they are happy to gather their strength in the shade. Early morning is the best time to appreciate the delicate violet colours of perennial geraniums like ‘Johnson’s Blue’ and ‘Rozanne’— if you photograph them in the full sun, their delicate colours wash out and look pink rather than violet. Similarly, an edging of the hosta ‘Halcyon’ looks silvery-blue in the deep morning shade.
The morning garden wakes up slowly, there are no abrupt alarms to rouse her from her sleep, rather, a gentle nudge from the sun as it peeks over the fence and through the trees. Welcome summer — it’s good to see you back.