weekly bloom: rose in bloom

Last week was a wash, literally: so wet and wild that there was no gardening, nor gardening pictures, to be had.  All that rain destroyed the Oriental poppies, which had just started to bloom:


Poppies are not terribly robust flowers (though the foliage is fine), so the plants were flattened and pushed by the rain. This was the best picture I could get, and you see, it's lying on the ground. All of the other blooms have been smashed to pieces by the heavy rain. It looks like there may be a second wave of bloom, a very small one, in the next few days — but they'll be done for the season after that, I'm afraid. Which is a pity. Otherwise I'm very pleased, though; they're exactly what I wanted: white with deep purple streaks.

There was another peony, too, on the second shrub — the one I planted last year — and it was of generally the same shade and size as the first. I'm surprised at how well they match, and very pleased that it bloomed the first year, even if it's just one. The garden is fast establishing itself, finally.

Speaking of which: roses! The backbone of the front garden are the roses, which hem it on two sides. (The anchor is the serviceberry tree, which I can't do anything about. And I don't know what to call the lavender — carpeting, maybe? Filler?) I planted them in the spring of 2012, three species: 'The Fairy,' which are miniature pink roses, maybe a foot or two tall; 'Amber Sun,' which are slightly bigger and vermillion, and 'Graham Thomas,' which is the most traditional of the three, with big, robust flowers on a six-foot shrub. The first two roses took to their new digs like ducks to water, but 'Graham Thomas' merely sent out one lonely (but beautiful) bloom before dormancy in October.

It's still a bit too early for 'The Fairy' — although I can see the buds forming now — but both the 'Graham Thomas' and 'Amber Sun' shrubs burst into bloom this week. I was so excited that I ran outside and took some quick pictures yesterday, despite the dreary weather:





The 'Graham Thomas' roses are the most perfect buttery yellow, and there are oh, so many of them, and the 'Amber Sun' roses are as adorable (and prolific) as ever. And the best part is that they are both repeat bloomers, which means now that they've started, they're liable to keep going until fall. Which, again,  is just about perfect.

weekly bloom: at long last

I'm a little late posting this. This picture was actually taken last Thursday and, given the heavy rain we've had since, this particular bloom is no more. It bowed more and more throughout the week, until one day I came home and the petals had exploded away.

Still, though. A peony! This one came from a root I planted three years ago, which originally came from my father-in-law's garden, and it's a complete surprise: one, because the dratted plant hadn't bloomed yet, though it had grown foliage every year (this year was its Last Chance; I said this year I would replace it with a rose if it didn't bloom; perhaps it heard me); and two, because it came from a clump of peonies my father-in-law had divided, no one had any idea what colour it would. It could conceivably have been white, pale pink, or this, a deep magenta.

There's another peony that I think is about to bloom; it's the one I planted last year and it's a singleton, as well. I suspect it's also a dark magenta. I had to admit that I am partial to pale pink peonies myself, but I'm quite fond of the magenta, too. Also: it's a peony. There's nothing not to love. Maybe next year there will even be more.

It's been very dreary and rainy (and relatively cold!) this week, so I haven't really worked on the garden or taken any pictures. The Oriental poppies are starting to pop up, and the irises have come and are thinking of leaving. On the weekend, I planted a large hosta (to replace the one that hadn't made it through the winter), an alpine anemone, and some lovely blue delphiniums. I don't think the delphiniums are going to take, though. I may have been a little too rough on them during transplant — we shall see. But they are so lovely that I may just swallow my pride and get more.

weekly bloom: interregnum

It's an odd time in the garden right now. Everything is very much growing — no massive die-offs yet! — but we're in that in-between time where the tulips are spent and nothing else is quite ready to take over. There are a few days like this every so often — gardening being far from an exact science.

The garden, this week:

 The theme this week is "anticipation." I have no actual full-throated blooms to show you. The roses don't bloom until June-time, and the coneflowers until the height of summer. The poppies aren't here yet. But there are some indications that a flower show is coming. The columbines are the furthest along:


I remember there were masses of them last year, in the back yard, and I was planning to some of them to the front yard come spring. Well, they forestalled me. I'm actually not entirely sure how. The front and back yards are not physically connected by any strip of soil.


I really think I am going to get a peony this year. Just one. But that's more than I've gotten any other year, so far.

You'll have to look closely, but there are several flower buds in this Oriental poppy:


 And finally, the irises are getting ready for their debut:


The other thing that I did last week, which I forgot to write about (or take pictures of), is put invasives into the front part of the garden. Yes, I planted lilies-of-the-valley. I do love them (despite their tenacity), and the front garden is fairly isolated — they couldn't go far even if they tried (and I have no doubt that they will try). They can duke it out with the periwinkle. I figure, by the time all of the groundcover get established, I will never have to weed again.

when a finished knitted object means an unmoveable force

A close member of my family got married last week, and even though it was a very simple ceremony at the civic centre, the Spanish Inquisition still needed an outfit (read: not her beloved overalls, definitely not her cargo pants — is there anything cuter than a 2-year-old tomboy?). Since it was going to be a cool-ish spring day, I decided that she needed a cardigan to go with her dress.



The pattern is Kitty (Rav link), the yarn is a sock-yarn something, from Lettuce Knit, and the colourway is (I think) "Kitten Whiskers." It's not what I would have chosen. It's a bit too twee, the cream and the pink and the name, and in any case the Spanish Inquisition is the kind of child who insists on feeding herself soup, so generally speaking I know better than to put her in white. But this was a last-minute thing — they announced their intention 8 days before the deed — and the cardigan absolutely had to be white so that it could match a variety of dresses, in case the one I'd ordered didn't arrive in time. So, "Kitten Whiskers" it was, and a green satin ribbon from Mokuba to rescue it from cutesy-ness.

In the end, though — not so much with the wearing. You can see it bunched up in my lap, instead. (Notice how the ribbon matches the dress exactly, though? I'm very proud.)



She just flat-out refused. She's been having a bit of a difficult week; we think her molars are coming in, and so she's been more opinionated, more irritable. And when I asked her to put the cardigan on, she said NO.

Multiple times.

And then grabbed it out of my hands and tried to throw it to the ground.


So, no pictures of the Spanish Inquisition in the cute cardigan. I had, in a fit of cover-my-arsedness, also picked up some pink ribbon that exactly matched the pink splotches in the yarn, so while I vastly prefer the green, I'm going to replace the ribbon and see if she'll change her mind.

Otherwise ... well, I have a couple of neighbours who either have or are expecting girls. And they don't knit.

weekly bloom: tulips ahoy

No gardening this weekend. We were away on Saturday, and Sunday was just indescribably wretched: sporadic rain and hail. Luckily, the garden is relatively maintenance-free right now; I should probably weed a little bit but the situation isn't dire.

The whole thing is in full spring growth mode now, which is a little worrying because there's a frost warning tonight, but what am I supposed to do about it now? Not only have the roses been pruned, but they're also sending out crazy growth; I can't stop it now. In fact, it looks like the garden got through the normal Canadian winter just fine; as far as I can tell, the sum total of the winter casualty list is a small hosta. (I think. I am certain that I had three hostas, and now I have two, but I need to wait until they leaf out before I can determine which two. Also, one of them is awfully skinny, and so its survival may be more tenuous than not.)

I forgot to take an overall picture of the garden this time, but here's a ground-level one of the stone path:

The tulips are "Carnival de Rio," late-spring bloomers, once they're gone tulip season in my garden will be over. On the right are the coneflowers I mentioned above; I think they were white and label-less when I planted them; I'll need to check my notes to make sure.* And behind those, with the fern-like leaves, are Oriental poppies, two of them, also hopefully white — I bought them in the midst of high summer last year, well after their blooming season (and thus got a great deal for them, too). I wasn't sure they would come back, actually, so this is particularly gratifying.

I had declared that, if we did not get any peonies this year, I would tear out one or both plants and replace them with roses — I had even gone so far as to decide which ones — likely Morden Blush or Morden Sunrise. So, of course, one of the peony plants — the older one — is finally budding. About darn time, I say. The thing has been sulking in the ground for three years, sending up a single shoot that leafs out far too short and too early, and breaking my peony-less heart in June.

*Haha. I like to pretend that my notes are precise and thorough, as opposed to being either a) the dates of old digital photos, or — better yet — blog entries, or b) the giant pile of discarded plant tags on the window sill by the kitchen sink.