rhodies

mist maiden

The dry shade of our woodland garden is not an easy master. I have learned that when a plant is labeled as "tolerates shade" it does not mean it thrives in shade. It means that it copes. Usually it becomes anorexic, clings to life for a couple seasons and turns to compost. I stopped expecting massive, showy blooms and became satisfied with mere survival. The ones that do pull through, grow at a glacial rate. It seemed that we always had room for more plants and I have been plugging in new ones every spring. I was a member of the local horticultural society and bought tissue-culture rhododendrons, tiny plant sprigs, a half-dozen at a time. This year we have finally gained some momentum and are getting a payout on our patience.

percy wiseman

henry's red

vinecrest

lily bells

The woods are ringing with perfect little bells of all sorts. The snappy white and green combo is so fresh and clean that I practically want to eat it. I loved the dramatic dark and light extremes of lily of the valley shots. It made me think of the lighting effects in italian renaissance paintings, romantically described as chiaroscuro. A reward for remembering to take my camera on my morning dog walk.

sole survivor

The deer were hungry this spring. We came home from the grocery store one snowy evening in March and were startled by a pair standing in the middle of our garden. Nothing was up at that point and in desperation they nibbled on the shrubs, dribbling Holly and Euonymus leaves around the yard. Their foray was an intelligence mission. They came back for a batch of tulips, nipping all but one in the bud. The survivor is blooming now. I wonder if she was being saved for dessert.



The headless brothers and sisters, cut down before their time

fast forward

This year the snow and ice lingered on and on until I could hardly bear another day of looking at it. After it melted, the plants seemed to come rushing out of the ground at warp speed. For the past couple of weeks, every morning is like christmas and I find surprises in each corner of the garden.


The Siberian Squill is spreading

This patch of white Squill is on its last legs

The Heaths are taking over this slope and it is alive with bees




The asparagus-like Solomon's Seal is being charmed out of the ground by warm spring sunshine