There have been springs when we have been deluged with rain. There have been years when I was already hauling hoses in May. But this year we’ve been fortunate to have just the right amount of rain—not too much and not too little. I think the purple stuff here likes it too. Maybe we have been having purple rain.
The side fence wisteria is blooming, as are some of the peonies. (Why don’t I have more peonies?)
The baptisia I had to move from the front flower bed into the potager was threatening to die last year. I don’t think baptisia likes to be disturbed, but it has rallied and making a rather nice purple show now.
The irises are blooming, as are the foxgloves. Everything that isn’t green is purple.
I still have so much spring work to do and seem to be forever behind. I still have containers to fill and annuals to plant. There is the truckload of stone dust I need to buy and haul into the woodland garden. And this is the year—I hope—that I will finally install some kind of edging to separate the border beds from the paths in the potager.
For some reason making decisions about what to plant this year has been more difficult. Part of the reason is that I just haven’t had much time because work has been keeping me running. But I’m also weary of the same old, same old annuals I see at the local nursery. I am sick to death of petunias and marigolds and the like. It’s like getting up and wearing the same dress every single day. I need something new and exciting to break through my annual ennui!
Perhaps something purple.
(Click on the photo to see a larger version.)
Robin
April is quite a yellow month, isn’t it? I mean, there’s the forsythia, the witch hazel, the daffodils. If that weren’t enough we can now get our azaleas in shades of orange-yellow. And don’t forget that drop-dead beautiful magnolia ‘Yellow Bird.’ (I want.)
You know what? I don’t care. After seeing brown, brown, brown all winter long, I like a nice, bright yellow.
Bring it on. In fact, let’s do some masses of yellow.
Harry and I have been slowly adding to our daffodil collection. We started near the house by the driveway. Last fall we planted a grouping about a quarter mile up the driveway—a sunny little patch to greet visitors.
I even added a few crocuses and muscari in the mix to see how the deer would like them. They didn’t.
Next fall we’ll add even more yellow. For another yellow April.
Robin
I never really understood the interest in growing monster vegetables to see how big they can get. To me, the point of vegetable growing is to eat the things. But more often than not once a vegetable reaches gigantic proportions it is no longer edible.
But perhaps it’s akin to my fascination with sunflowers. I have grown short, bouquet-worthy sunflowers. I have grown stunning, nearly black sunflowers. I have grown dainty sunflowers. But what I really adore is a colossal sunflower. Towering sunflowers. The kind of sunflowers that makes visitors stop and say, “Is that real?”
Until this year the tallest sunflowers I have grown were Mammoth. They grew to about 8 or 9 feet, towering over the rest of the garden.
But this year I grew Titans—the biggest yet. I measured them this morning at 12 feet tall.
Visitors ask me if they are staked because it seems so improbable that a flower on a single stem that tall could stand up without assistance. But the stalks are nearly as round as my wrist, so they are standing tall all on their own.
Now, what’s bigger than a Titan?
Robin
