SPRING SHOWERS PRODUCE A KALEIDOSCOPE OF GREEN
After a spring rain the fragrance of the sprouting season fills the air
The morning sun breaks through the clouds sending shafts of golden light across the back garden, illuminating stretches of dew-covered grass, pastel tulips and the violet-pink buds of the redbud tree.
It’s been raining off and on for the past couple of days, and the plants in the garden seem to be growing right before my eyes, thanks to the warm temperatures and bountiful moisture.
Morning coffee in hand, I kick off my slippers and step off the deck onto the lawn. My feet sink into the soft, wet grass — it’s almost ankle deep — saturated with raindrops, and it feels soft and cool. The air smells fresh and clean as it only can after a spring rain. It’s as if you can smell the greens of the garden as they absorb the water and grow. Try as they might, laundry product manufacturers and marketers try to emulate this fresh scent, but it can’t be done.
At this time of year, the garden is dressed in the most beautiful greens of the season: chartreuse, sage, lime, fern, forest, olive, emerald and moss, the colours calling to mind the rolling pastures I’ve seen in travel shows from the British Isles.
Under the kitchen window, the Leonard Messel magnolia has finished his annual show of starry pink flowers, soft green leaves are just emerging and catching the light. Beneath the tree, early flowering species tulips, Spanish bluebells and perennial hellebores, hosta and sweet woodruff trace gentle patterns of colour through a carpet of gentle greens.
Where this bed meets the southfacing border, a huge Manitoba maple tree was cut down last summer. Today, tentative branches of a variegated alternate leaf dogwood stretch out to enjoy the sunlight (and extra space), illuminating this corner of the garden.
Beneath the dogwood, golden hakone grass and clumps of violetblue grape hyacinth make a pretty combination.
Just beyond the half-moon garden, the branches of a native redbud tree are loaded with violet-pink blossoms. The tree has been flowering for just over a week, and some of the blossoms have started to drop, scattering the bird bath and the garden with pink confetti. The branches of the tree stretch forward to catch the southern exposure, creating a charming canopy of blossoms over a patch of pink, violet and white tulips that have naturalized over the past few years. Just beyond the tulips, a large patch of allium foliage catches the morning light, giving the plants a gentle glow.
Last fall, I planted a patch of Gavota tulips nearby, with burgundy petals edged in yellow. While they are lovely, the colours clash with the redbud and will be moved once they finish blooming. And that’s a good point — make a note of colour combinations that don’t work and then change them for next year.
The Gavota tulips were also planted in the front garden and look wonderful with a backdrop of donkey-tail spurge with yellow flowers. I’ve made a note to move the mismatched tulips to the front bed where they will shine next year.
The scent of lilacs permeates the garden. Old fashioned, dependable, maybe even indestructible — this plant has been cut back to ground level several times over the years. It just wouldn’t be spring without the scent of lilacs in the garden.
Anchoring the cutting garden, a golden smoke bush (Cotinus) creates a welcoming beacon of chartreuse leaves against the deep green foliage of the hornbeam hedge. With most of the garden dressed in green, little patches of chartreuse can really brighten up the scheme. Along the back border, a pair of lime green coral bells make a statement beneath the Amur maple tree.
Splashes of pink and red tulips brighten this mostly shade bed, a fluffy patch of barrenwort (Epimedium x versicolor ‘Sulphureum’) carpets the back of this garden and will soon dissolve into the background as the showy oak leaf hydrangeas leaf out and flower.
I step onto the smooth, and surprisingly warm stone pathway that surrounds the circle garden. Droplets of water lining the obelisk and clematis vine in the centre of the garden remind me of little crystals as they catch the sunlight.
This garden has gone through a major rework this spring; the 12 mature clumps of miscanthus grass were reduced by two-thirds and seem to be settling in nicely. The grasses had really expanded over the past five or six years and needed to be reined in. The extra space afforded after this drastic surgery will be put to good use this summer — this bed enjoys full sun and has no root competition from neighbouring trees.
I plan to move my dahlia collection from the cutting garden to the circle garden this year. I’m looking forward to growing colourful dahlias, zinnias along with the resident coneflowers in this prominent location. Let’s hope the bunny doesn’t follow the dahlias and zinnias.
My coffee is just about ready for a refill, so it’s time to head back inside. It looks as if it’s going to be a glorious day. Think I’ll gear up and tackle some of the weeds that seem to spout overnight at this time of the year.
There are also a few perennials that should be divided, and I’d better check on the tomatoes in the greenhouse — it will be noon before I turn around.