Spring Is Glorious! part 1

I’ve been feeling a little bit guilty that I posted that winter interest blog just as we were all craving spring. I don’t know what came over me — a last blast of nostalgia for the long, cold, dark winter? In any case, I have two quick posts here to make up for it. This first post will highlight the awakening of spring in my backyard, and the second will follow with the front garden.

The two gardens are quite different. The back is private, quiet and restful. In the summer, it is primarily dappled shade. If only I were able to keep to a theme, it would be a white garden, layered with shades of green. Since I have the common gardener’s inability to resist a beautiful flower, and so did Jason, there are other colors scattered throughout (as accents, I tell myself).

The front garden is much more public. Although I don’t live on a busy street, people stop as they walk by and pull up in their cars as they drive by, to comment on the garden. It is big and loud and tall — when I give directions, I say, come to the house with the ten-foot plants in front (or “with all the brown stalks” if I am giving directions in the winter).

The backyard kicks off the spring season with snowdrops galore, often beginning in February. Why are there none in the front? Who knows.

Several spicebushes add a touch of early color. When Jason planted them, he assured me they would be better than forsythia. It took me a few years, but I now fully agree.

Neighbors down the street many years ago had hellebores, and I wanted some. Jason reluctantly planted them, and then fell in love with them. They bloom so early and provide a burst of color when you most need it. They couldn’t be hardier, and they spread in a slow, polite way.

Last fall, the gardeners and I added muscari — grape hyacinths. What was I saying about accent colors?

When we moved in 20 years ago, there were several native spring perennials at the edges of the backyard. These prairie trillium do their thing every year, huddled against one of the side fences. They neither spread nor diminish.

We planted the great white trillium, and as is its habit, it is taking years to fully establish.

I have a particular place in my heart for these native emphemerals. We lived for two years in Madison, Wisconsin, before we moved here, and our house was on a lot that backed into a small woodlot. Six-foot deep borders on two sides of the backyard had been allowed to go wild, and we discovered many flowers that were new to us. Among those were uvularia. When we moved, I demanded that our new garden contain uvularia, which at that time were difficult to source.

Several of the original native perennials have vanished, either on vacation or moved out without giving notice. There is a small cluster of bloodroot; some years I see it bloom, and some I don’t; nothing this year. We used to have a couple of Jack-in-the-Pulpits, in two locations, but I haven’t seen them in a few years. Dutchman’s Breeches (if you have more than one, is it Dutchmen’s Breeches? or do the breeches all belong to one guy?) only bloomed a couple of times after we arrived. There were also a couple of small patches of lungwort. I have no idea if the previous owners, who were here for many years, planted or encouraged any of this.

A spring ephemeral that remains is Mayapples, very slowly spreading by the back fence.

Jason planted two Chokecherry trees about ten years ago, one in the backyard and one on the east side of the house, because they do better in pairs. I was very confused last year by its May blooms and green leaves — turns out the leaves turn deep purple during the summer. As one does, I googled to try to clarify the situation — and up came Jason’s post, telling me exactly what I needed to know.

Now here we are at peak spring in the backyard — bulbs galore.

The daffodils below are Cornish Dawn, and I highly recommend them. They put on a great show, and are fragrant as well.

I had an idea about black and white tulips, inspired by a visit to Brandywine Cottage, the home garden of David Culp. I didn’t see the tulips — we were there in September — but he talked about them, and I came home and planted some. Alas, in two years I have been unable to find Queen of the Night tulips which are anywhere near black or even dark purple! I was apparently too disgusted this year to even take a photo, but here are the white ones.

Spring at Garden in a City would be nothing without Celandine poppies — even if I spend May pulling them out so they don’t crowd out the next round of plants coming after. These are greater Celandine, Stylophorum diphyllum, a bit of a menace with how they spread, but as the Wisconsin Horticulture people say, easy enough to pull up by the roots.

That’s it — I’m going to give you a tour of the front in my next post, and then we will move on to summer. Can I blame being behind on the plants? Gardening is supposed to be a peaceful hobby! Do you ever feel like your plants are rushing you along?