My garden remains more a field of dreams and promises than an actual garden, more unplanted bed than lush landscape of greenery and flowers, and yet, easily pleased, eager, silly, proud, garden mom that I am I am thrilled with every small bit.
Let's take a walk around the garden this early spring morning. Many of these photos were taken over the course of the past week. There was a hard frost last night however, and some of what I show you may no longer look as lush. This is not true of the daffodils of course, which will easily survive temps down to 25 or so, are upright, almost laughing in the light frost. This photo was taken slightly after dawn this morning. These are the daffodils in the back, by the porch, the bulbs I planted too late. They are not as large and showy as they will be next year, but despite the setbacks, they are blossoming, and they make my heart sing.
As I turn east to go around the house, I see the bed next to my small patio, along the side of the garage/studio. A hosta is beginning to emerge in the foreground, an itoh peony toward the back. They seems safely ensconced in this protected spot.
The east walk, is mostly a woodland garden, primarily filled with hellebores, but a few wildflowers and other treats are mixed in as well. I missed capturing some of the early blossoms. But not all. This garden is well established and therefore accustomed to the vagaries of Tennessee weather.
In this protected spot at the Northeast corner of the house, the hosts is a little further along than the one in the back, but still defiant.
As I approach the top of the driveway on the east, the Jane Hydrangeas that were transplanted over the winter are opening up. These were dug up during construction and had been sheltering behind the garage for two seasons. I see that a peony accidentally got relocated with a hydrangea, too close really, but they must have survived well together in a pot for those two years, and I suspect their roots are intermingled. Both survived the frost. These two pose the kinds of questions to which I do not know the answer. Do I move the peony now, or let it sit out this season here next to its companion, recovering somewhat from one transplant before disentangling the roots and moving it again? The two will eventually come into conflict, perhaps even this year as they will both get more sun. Act now or Wait? I am leaning toward waiting...
The hydrangeas are in the same bed as the daffodils, which have been doing quite well. They too dance in the morning sun, mocking the sparkle of frost on the ground around them. As the hydrangeas leaf out, they will hide the fading daffodil leaves, perhaps a perfect companionship.
Next I turn west, along the street. This is the bed I showed you a couple of weeks back, in its planning stage. I spent a weekend digging up the area that had been marked with orange paint, digging holes and amending soil for transplanting peonies which had also been sheltering in back. A large part of that area was a mixture of rock, concrete, and clay and difficult digging. Not quite hardpan, but not easy. It took me three days to get the area ready, but I did transplant the peonies, and I planted alyssum and strawberries, from seed. The peonies are doing well. Most are up and leafing out, but one suffered partial frost damage. I have no idea what will happen to the seeds, or where they will come up as we have had over 5 inches of rain since.
This past week I planted these ten encore azaleas in front of the wattle fence. The soil here was easier to dig.
One of the azaleas, variety autumn chiffon, had a single bloom, and I captured it. Good thing too as that blossom succumbed to the frost, I think the azaleas are fine, but it is always iffy when things are so newly planted. I probably should have covered them, but I was too exhausted to roust myself out of my stupor yesterday evening.
Here is a close up of the blossoms on the crabapple. This morning they are all frost burnt and sad, so I am happy to have captured this moment of beauty. I've made it my screen saver for now, for a little bright spot of daily joy.
The peas and faves are, of course, oblivious.
This lovely field of weeds has been a great joy to me this spring. I love the soft fluffy greenery. It is looking a little flattened today, but whatever happens, and something will, I am not going to be planting this field this year anyway, so it can remain nature's playground.
