Aquilegia, the Columbine (Latin from columba, “dove”) is in full bloom. This spring we’ve had enough rain that flowers are appearing in the margin of the gravel driveway and in the walkways where last year’s seed hitched a ride on the soles of my shoes.
This year the plants are over four feet tall. They are remarkably generous and tolerant of neglect, and the deer don’t seem to bother them. I had dark red blossoming plants from my parents (A. atrata) and a few of the bright blue A. caerulea that is the state flower of Colorado to start with, but over the last 10 years I’ve accumulated every shade of purple, pale pinks and creams and a few that are nearly black. I don’t think about them much at all, except that lovely interval in May when they bloom above healthy, lush green crowns of foliage and then retreat again before they can become boring – the botanical version of a house guest with perfect manners.
Campenula growing between seedum and dianthus in the alpine bed.
Astilbe and gunnera growing in the lower garden, near the swamp.
Elecampne growing on the stairs, over a tree peony.
They also mitigate our harsh climate, parceling out the change from 10 degrees to 40 over the course of a January afternoon into smaller, gentler increments.
Some of the rocks are spectacular specimens all on their own. . .
. . . and some are simply a sturdy, not unattractive place to put your foot while weeding.
I found this beautiful pale upright while digging a carrot bed. It has taken a few years of wind and weather to expose its true colors.
Heath and heather require top-notch drainage. In this climate it’s not even the cold that kills these plants, it is wet roots and layers of clay. I dig a fairly deep hole (2′ for a 4″ pot) and fill it with large rocks and sand before planting a member of this family in a peaty hollow at the surface. My oldest plants have survived 15 winters here and thrived.
This rock isn’t really visible in the summer, hedged in by daylilies and Bouncing Bet. In this season it’s sculpture.
Generally, the best plant combinations in my garden are unplanned. Not the plants, but the size, texture and color of the picture they make together, which is something I don’t see until they have grown together in a way that one day, has become exciting and attracted my attention.
Heather, rock cress, emerging day lilies and the bright note of Siberian draba in a shaft of sunlight making a promising beginning for the season. In August this garden is a mass of foliage, but right now each color and texture sits in a frame of wood chips and gravel. This is probably my most successful garden and I could spend all my time here, convincing all these plant forms to live together and share territory. Humans tend to see vegetation as benign, but Napoleon had nothing on a healthy stand of rock cress.
Common Sorrel or Garden Sorrel (Rumex acetosa) Sorrel has been in cultivation for centuries. It has a strong lemon taste (some people think it tastes like kiwi) due to a high concentration of oxalic acid. I picked about 2 cups of leaves (packed), sauteed chopped onions and garlic chives (also up in the garden) in butter, made a roux with a little flour, added chicken stock and white wine and added the chopped sorrel. Serve on buttered toast points.
Planted the first seeds out today. The thermometer registered 50 F but you’ll notice there is still quite a bit of snow on the ground (that little drift is right below the thermometer).