Weekend Notes from the Front Garden

Does a late spring mean shorter plants? For example, consider my golden Alexander (Zizia aurea). Normally I have to cut this perennial back in mid-May and even then it requires some staking. Supposedly it grows to only 3′ but in my garden borders it easily surpasses 4′.

Golden Alexander in the parkway bed with wild geranium in the background.
Golden Alexander in the parkway bed with wild geranium in the background.

This year, however, Alex seems to be topping out at about 30 inches at bloom time (which hasn’t been delayed) – no cutting back or staking needed.  Could it be shorter because it was racing to make its normal bloom dates?

Golden Alexander flowers.
Golden Alexander flowers.

By the way, in case you don’t already know, golden Alexander is a very low maintenance and adaptable wildflower that is native to the Midwest – grows in sun or shade. Though once it gets fully established, it takes a little effort to dig it out should you want to

Allium 'Globemaster' with wild geranium in front.
Allium ‘Globemaster’ with wild geranium in front.

Or maybe not. My Allium ‘Globemaster’ seems to be about its normal height and bloom time, so maybe my theory is invalid. I planted these bulbs in an act of random horticulture in a place that doesn’t make much sense – in front of a raised bed in the parkway. It works out, though. The ‘Globemaster’ has expanded into a neat little patch that blooms after the tulips and before the perennials in the raised bed. And ‘Globemaster’ is always a good conversation starter with people walking by on the sidewalk.

Wild columbine in the west border.
Wild columbine in the west border.

Like red and yellow chandeliers. There is something magical about wild columbine (Aquilegia canadensis). The plant as a whole looks like a chandelier, with each flower dangling like a crystal pendant. And each flower individually looks like a miniature version of something that could be hanging in a great hall. It’s a plant for pollinators with long tongues (like hummingbirds), as the nectar is in the back of those spurs.

Columbine close up.
Columbine close up.

This is a plant that is easy to grow in my area, in fact it has a habit of popping up all over, though this is never a problem. Even here it can be rather capricious, though. In my front garden it grows to impressive proportions and seeds itself with abandon. In my back garden it always seems to disappear over tine. Go figure.

Spanish bluebells
Spanish bluebells

For whom the bluebell tolls. Last fall I planted Spanish bluebells (Hyacinthoides hispanica) for the first time, and they have just started blooming. I’ve heard that this plant can be invasive in places like the UK and the Pacific Northwest. However, the instructor for the hardy bulbs class I took at the Chicago Botanic Garden assured me they are not overly aggressive in this area. Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) are still my favorite, but I do like the look of these. They go well with bleeding heart and ferns.

Woodland phlox in the west border.
Woodland phlox in the west border.

You broke my heart, woodland phlox. I have planted a lot of woodland phlox (Phlox divaritica) over the years, and overall I have been disappointed. For one thing, the rabbits are constantly chewing it down to the ground. And for another, it tends to go dormant by August. So I have vowed not to plant any more woodland phlox. But then I see it blooming in the late afternoon light on the west side of the house (which the rabbits tend to avoid), and I think: maybe we can make it work.

Nepeta 'Kit Kat' along the driveway border.
Nepeta ‘Kit Kat’ along the driveway border.

Blue kitty. Nepeta x faassenii ‘Kit Kat’ is blooming. It makes a nice edging plant, is much loved by bees, and the foliage looks good after the flowers are finished. ‘Kit Kat’ likes a hot afternoon sun. You can sort of see that there are only a few tulips still blooming – mostly ‘World Impression’ and ‘West Point’. Soon it will be time to switch the containers to summer annuals.

 

Odds and Ends

Roof iris
Roof iris

I admire the irises in other people’s gardens, but roof iris (Iris tectorum) is the only iris I grow. People in Japan actually would grow it in the thatch of their roofs. The foliage makes a good ground cover.

Bleeding heart with false forget me not in the background.
Bleeding heart with false forget-me-not in the background.

The cool spring means that the bleeding heart (Lamprocapnos spectabilis) flowers are lasting a good long time. But isn’t “bleeding heart” kind of a gruesome common name? Apparently other common names include lady-in-a-bath and lyre flower. Maybe there should be a campaign to promote one of these alternative common names.

There’s so much happening in the garden at this time of year, it’s hard not to get carried away. Everything seems exciting to me, so I hope this post wasn’t repetitive. In any case, has the late spring meant shorter plants in your garden?

 

Chicago’s Lurie Garden in May

Earlier this week Judy was walking to the Millenium Park garage in downtown Chicago but, prompted by the mild weather and clear light, took a detour into the Lurie Garden. The views were sublime – full of blues, purples, and whites – and Judy took some photos with her cell phone. They came out pretty well, I think, so I’m sharing them here.

White tulips at the Lurie Garden.
White tulips at the Lurie Garden.

 

There were still plenty of late tulips blooming. The white tulips are especially striking. I think these are ‘Maureen’, ‘Ivory Floradale’, and ‘Spring Green’. As always, it’s the urban setting just as much as the plant palette that makes this garden so exciting. That’s the Pritzker Pavilion behind the hedge.

More tulips.
More tulips.

She also saw a mix of the medium and dark purple ‘Don Quichotte’ and ‘Queen of Night’.

Lurie Garden's river of salvia starts to flow.
Lurie Garden’s river of salvia starts to flow.

The river of salvia has not yet achieved its full flow, as the bloom is just starting. Salvia varieties include ‘Amethyst’, ‘May Night’, ‘Blue Hill’, and ‘Purple Rain’.

Masses of blue star at the  Lurie Garden.
Masses of blue star at the Lurie Garden.

Lurie also has masses of blue star (Amsonia), including ‘Blue Ice’ and willow leaf blue star (Amsonia tabernaemontana var. salicifolia).

Prairie smoke with tulips in the background.
Prairie smoke with tulips in the background.

Another native blooming was prairie smoke (Geum trifolium), with white tulips in the foreground. You can see in this picture also that the winter took a toll on the hedges that border the garden to the north and west. Fortunately the hedges are made of a mix of woody plants, including Japanese yew, arborvitae, and hornbeam. This makes it less vulnerable to winter damage and other problems.

Gentle green mounds dominate the Lurie Garden in May.
Gentle green mounds dominate the Lurie Garden in May.

The overall feel of the garden right now is of soft green mounds with patches and dots of color.

What is your favorite urban garden?

No Man is Poor Who Has Fronds

Even gardeners like myself who gravitate to bright colors realize that from time to time you have to pause to appreciate the more subtle beauties of foliage. May is a good time to do that, because the fronds and leaves are so fresh and the green-deprived winter months are not yet a distant memory.

Ostrich ferns.
Ostrich ferns.

May is certainly a good month for ferns, especially the ostrich ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) that emerge early in the month and then start a mad dash to grow as big as they possibly can, which is pretty big (up to 6′, though mine stop at about 4′). A friend of mine recently got a fern for the garden as a mother’s day gift, she was worried that it required too much coddling. I should have offered her a free ostrich fern, which will thrive pretty much anywhere there is shade and moist soil.

Unknown fern with Virginia bluebells.
Unknown fern with Virginia bluebells. Please ignore the hose. 

There are also some inherited ferns in the back garden. Not sure what species these are.

Lady ferns with wild ginger.
Lady ferns with wild ginger. The ‘Annabelle’ hydrangea in the back is slowly recovering from winter.

There are also lady ferns (Athyrium filix-femina) growing in several spots, including with these wild ginger (Asarum canadensis) on the west side of the house. Lady ferns are a smaller fern but its delicate looks are deceptive – it is a fern that can take care of itself. By the way, for a long time I thought it was felix-femina, not filix. I suspected that felix-femina meant cat lady, because of, you know, Felix the Cat. However, I recently discovered that felix means lucky and filix just means fern. So Athyrium filix-femina is not the cat lady fern, which is too bad when you think about it.

Some people prefer the European wild ginger (Asarum europaeum), which has smaller, shiny leaves. For myself, I like the downy texture and soft green of the native North American wild ginger. Both plants make excellent groundcovers for shade. By the way, neither is actually a culinary ginger, but the roots do have a ginger smell.

Starry Solomon's plume.
Starry Solomon’s plume.

Starry solomon’s plume (Smilacena stellata) has tiny white flowers but its best features are its foliage and the striped berries that emerge in summer. This plant does not grow thickly enough to be used as a ground cover and needs to be mixed with others.

Penstemon 'Husker Red'
Penstemon ‘Husker Red’

Penstemon ‘Husker Red’ (Penstemon digitalis) won’t bloom for about another month but the reddish foliage provides a bit of drama.

Unknown Epimedium
Unknown Epimedium

I used to be prejudiced against Epimediums, however lately I have come to appreciate their willingness to grow in dry shade where others will languish and die. And I suppose they are attractive in their way. This is an inherited Epimedium of unknown variety.

'Sutherland Gold' red elderberry.
‘Sutherland Gold’ red elderberry.

I like my ‘Sutherland Gold’ red elderberry (Sambucus racemosa), which is entering its second season in my garden. The flowers aren’t too exciting, but the foliage is interesting and I have a fondness for plants with red berries. I also have several native red elderberries on the west side of the house.

This post is a contribution to Garden Bloggers’ Foliage Day, which is sponsored by Christina at My Hesperides Garden. Click the link to see more exciting and appealing foliage.

 

 

Book Review: The Tulip, by Anna Pavord

The Tulip is a fascinating history of the relationship between people and this enchanting spring flower. In very different places and times, many have been obsessed with tulips, due in part to their enormous and irrepressible bundle of genetic variability, capable of all sorts of surprising tricks with color, shape, and habit. And people have used that variability to create a massive number hybrids and varieties, changing the appearance of this flower in basic ways.

the tulip 2

You would not necessarily guess this from the mass tulip plantings of today, meant to dazzle with broad swaths of color. But according to Pavord, tulips have been used in this way only since the late 19th century.

Tulips as wildflowers were native to an area stretching from Central Asia to the Balkans. The Persians and Turkic peoples appreciated tulips as a cultivated flower long before Europeans. Babur, founder of the Moghul Empire, planted gardens with tulips throughout the lands he conquered.

Ottoman Turks brought their love of tulips westward with them as they conquered Byzantium. And from the Ottoman Empire, in what is now Turkey, 16th Century European envoys sent back the first bulbs to reach western and northern Europe.

In addition to their variability, there is a special silkiness of texture and clarity of color that has no doubt been captivating to Moghuls and Ottomans, Dutch and English.

(Incidentally, the name tulip is the result of a misunderstanding. When Western Europeans asked about the flower that Ottomans commonly wore in their head gear, their hosts thought they were asking about the turbans, called tulpan. The word for tulip was actually lale.)

Tulips have inspired a number of speculative booms and busts. The Dutch tulipomania was the most famous and caused the greatest financial losses, but others occurred in France, the Ottoman Empire, and elsewhere. At the height of the Dutch mania, a single tulip bulb was sold for the price of a fashionable Amsterdam home.

Among the Ottomans, Ahmed III (1703-1730) presided over what was known as the Tulip Era. Ultimately, the cost of his tulip obsession contributed to his downfall. Before that happened, however, he had some great parties during which candles were affixed to tortoises, who were then set loose to crawl around the gardens, illuminating the Sultan’s tulips in the dark of night.

It took a while for tulips to catch on in Europe. The first shipment of tulip bulbs to Antwerp, mistaken for onions, were boiled and eaten with oil and vinegar. This was in 1562. However, within a short time tulips were a status symbol par excellence for French, Flemish, Dutch, German, and English aristocrats. Upwardly striving merchants who couldn’t afford bulbs of their own could buy paintings of tulips by Breughel for less than the cost of the flowers themselves.

Eventually tulips became more common and lost some of their fascination for the ruling classes. Tulip enthusiasts, known as “florists”, stepped into the breach in Flanders, Holland, England and elsewhere. These amateur tulip breeders – many of them artisans – developed thousands of varieties, which were combined with the varieties developed by commercial growers. In England the tulip florists had thriving local societies, competitions, and annual feasts. Sadly the societies went into decline after the middle of the 19th Century.

Tulips at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
Tulips at the Chicago Botanic Garden.

Tulip breeders, whether Ottoman or English, developed extremely exacting standards for what made a beautiful tulip. Those standards were detailed but exceedingly different from place to place. For example, Ottomans valued long pointed tepals shaped like daggers, while most Europeans wanted the tepals to be rounded. What was similar was their view of the tulip as a single specimen to be closely examined, inside and out. What’s more, single color tulips were regarded as “breeders”, useful only as raw material for developing tulips where colors mixed with what was known as “feathering” or “flames”.

It was the Dutch who in the 19th Century pioneered mass tulip plantings that created collective sweeps of color. By the prior century they had established dominance over the tulip trade. They were not the most exceptional breeders, but they did excel as growers and marketers. In fact, Ahmed III ordered millions of Dutch bulbs from his palace in Istanbul.

There is much more to this book, but let me just say that The Tulip is a wonderful read for anyone interested in flowers or history. Pavord is an engaging and entertaining writer, and she knows her stuff. I have just one complaint: when she quotes something from the French, she doesn’t bother to translate. This is pretentious and annoying. But this one defect is not enough to keep me from strongly recommending The Tulip.

 

 

 

Crabapple Blossoms at the Chicago Botanic Garden

It’s not always easy to get to the Chicago Botanic Garden for the peak of the crabapple blossoms. It only lasts a few days, and the dates can be unpredictable. The weather is not always cooperative, and a badly timed rainstorm can put a quick end to all the fragile beauty.

Crabapple blossoms at the Chicago Botanic Garden
Crabapple blossoms at the Chicago Botanic Garden

It’s worth making the effort, however. There are hundreds of crabapple trees planted around a small artificial lake called the Great Basin. The most common varieties are ‘Donald Wyman’, ‘Prairie Fire’, ‘Profusion’, ‘Calocarpa’, and various Japanese flowering crabs. At the right time, the masses of bloom are a joyful and uplifting sight.

Tower of Jewels (Echium wildpretii) outside the English Walled Garden.
Tower of Jewels (Echium wildpretii) outside the English Walled Garden.

Today happened to be that rare perfect day to see the crabapples at their peak, so Judy and I took advantage of it. The weather was mild and sunny, the sky a perfect blue. Once we got to CBG, we headed for the Great Basin. To get there, we walked through the Heritage Garden and then the English Walled Garden.

Iceland poppies newly planted on a hillside.
Iceland poppies newly planted on a hillside.

On the other side of the English Walled Garden there is a hillside that is planted with Iceland poppies every spring. The poppies had just been planted, so they hadn’t yet filled in. Even so, I loved seeing them glow like multi-colored jewels. This may be a wasteful practice, as the poppies do not last long, but I’m glad they do this.

Late Narcissus under the crabapple blossoms.
Late Narcissus under the crabapple blossoms.

Finally, we came to a wide path with fragrant crabapples on either side. There are still some late Narcissus under the crabs. Nepeta, windflower, marsh spurge, and dwarf borage are also included in the underplanting.

Bridge to Evening Island.
Bridge to Evening Island.

There is a bridge surrounded by massive weeping willows that leads to a part of the garden called Evening Island.

Carillon tower on Evening Island.
Carillon tower on Evening Island.

After crossing the bridge, we could see the carillon tower on Evening Island. During the summer there are Tuesday evening carillon concerts. Don’t get too close to the tower when the bells start ringing. I’m not a big fan of Euphorbia, but when it is massed this way I see the appeal.

Tunnel of flowering crabapples.
Tunnel of flowering crabapples.

During long stretches of our walk, we were in a veritable tunnel of flowering crab.

Pink crabapple blossoms and buds.
Pink crabapple blossoms and buds.

 

2014-05-18 13.05.36

It was a very leisurely walk, as it was hard not to stop and inspect the pink and white blossoms – and see which ones were most fragrant.

West bridge back to main garden.
West bridge back to main garden.

Gradually we made it to the second, western bridge back to the main part of the garden.

Ugly carp at the Chicago Botanic Garden.
Ugly carp at the Chicago Botanic Garden.

While crossing back we saw some very large and ugly carp.

Crabs across the water.
Crabs across the water.

We could also get a good view of the blooming crabapples across the water.

CBG woodland walk.
CBG woodland walk.

On our way back to the entrance, we strolled through CGB’s woodland walk. Virginia bluebells, brunnera, primroses, and bleeding heart bloomed beneath the dappled shade of yellow birches.

Late tulips glowing in the afternoon sun.
Late tulips glowing in the afternoon sun.

We also got to take in the tail end of CBG’s tulip season. The light made the tulips glow, even the fading ones.

Thomas the Tank Engine rides the rails at CBG.
Thomas the Tank Engine rides the rails at CBG.

Finally, CBG has a very fine model railroad tucked away in a corner, but you have to pay extra to go in and see it. However, as we were walking past Judy was able to get a decent shot of Thomas the Tank Engine as he chugged past.

And so we bid farewell to the crabapple blossoms, to CBG, to Thomas (and to Mr. Conductor, of course). It was a very satisfying visit.

Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day: May, 2014

On the 15th of every month, Carol at May Dreams Gardens hosts Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day, which allows garden bloggers around the world to compare what is blooming in their gardens. These pictures were taken on Saturday and Sunday, but they do show that many plants seem to be racing to make up for lost time. We have reached that part of spring where there are masses of bloom in every direction, in response to which I say: hurrah.

Brick path into the back garden.
Brick path into the back garden.

Let’s start in the back garden. From the entrance you can see two of the stars of my garden in May: Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) and celandine poppies (Stylophorum diphyllum).  These are mixed with lots of wild geranium (Geranium maculatum), which is not blooming just yet.

 

Virginia Bluebell and Celandine Poppy
Virginia Bluebell and Celandine Poppy. The foliage on the poppy, bluish green and deeply indented, is also nice.

This corner of the back garden, set between the garage wall and the back porch, looks like a little flowery meadow at this time of year. The bluebells and poppies are great companion plants. Some people look down on celandine poppies as a weedy wildflower, but I think this is very unfair. Sure, they self-sow enthusiastically, but so do lots of other plants, and their spreading habits can be a virtue in some circumstances – and the seedlings are not hard to pull. And how can you dislike those cheerful yellow flowers? Plus the foliage is quite nice.

Close up of Virginia bluebells.
Close up of Virginia bluebells.

Here’s a close up of the Virginia bluebells. Beautiful, no? I suppose I should warn you at this point that this post is going to run long. I usually try not to use more than 10 photos or so in any one post but I’ve been so flower deprived by the long winter that I have lost almost all restraint.

False forget me not interplanted with Allium 'Purple Sensation'.
False forget-me-not interplanted with Allium ‘Purple Sensation’.

There are lots of false forget-me-not (Brunnera macrophylla) blooming now. Here I am using it as a companion for ‘Purple Sensation’ allium (Allium aflatunense), which should bloom in 1-2 weeks. I’m not sure this is a successful combination because the tall allium somewhat inhibits the Brunnera, but I’ll see how they do over the summer when the allium dies back.

White Corydallis
White Corydallis

Here’s a new purchase from this spring: Corydalis ochroleuca, or white corydallis. I used this to replace the Japanese forest grass (Hakonechloa macra), which the rabbits had treated as the highlight of their private salad bar.

Wild Currant in bloom
Wild Currant in bloom

The back garden is full of wild currant (Ribes americanum), which is blooming now with dangling strands of Chartreuse flowers.

Lenten Rose
Lenten Rose

My new Lenten roses (Helleborus orientalis) continue to bloom sporadically. This is their first spring, I’m sure next year they will put on a pretty good show.

Wood Lily Trillium
Wood Lily Trillium

Moving along, we find these wood lily trilliums (Trillium recurvatum). At least I think that is the right species, these were in the garden when we moved here.

 

Jacobs Ladder
Jacobs Ladder

Elsewhere, the Jacobs ladder (Polemonium caeruleum and P. reptans) has just started to bloom. I like using this as an edging plant and for underplanting roses.

Serviceberry flowers
Serviceberry flowers

After delaying bloom for weeks, my surviving serviceberries (Amelanchier x grandiflora ‘Autumn Brilliance’) opened their flowers and dropped most of their petals during a one day spell of hot weather that left as quickly as it came. Just a few flowers remain, but it looks like we will have lots of berries for the birds in June.

Great merrybells along the east side of the house. Damn, I keep forgetting to move that basketball. I think it has been there since around 2008.
Great merrybells along the east side of the house. Damn, I keep forgetting to move that basketball. I think it has been there since around 2008.

OK, then, let’s head back to the front garden the way we came. You can see that the great merrybells (Uvularia grandiflora) are still blooming. I have patches of the merrybells in all parts of the garden.

Tulipa 'Little Princess'
Tulipa ‘Little Princess’

So I realize I just did a whole post about species tulips, so today all I’m going to do is show you one more picture of ‘Little Princess’, one of the late bloomers from this tribe.

Container tulips line the walk to the front door.
Container tulips line the walk to the front door.

And I intend to do a post on this soon, so I’m not going into a lot of detail regarding my hybrid tulips. I’ll just say that the early season bloomers are done, the mid-season ones are starting to get blowsy, and we are awaiting the late season tulips with eager anticipation. Plus, I will add that the container tulips did pretty well this year.

Tulips and other flowering containers on the front steps.
Tulips and other flowering containers on the front steps.

Between the hyacinths (Hyacinthus orientalis), stock (Matthiola incana), and sweet alyssum (Lobularia maritima), you are met with a seductively sweet mix of fragrances just outside the front door.

Bleeding hearts in the front foundation bed.
Bleeding hearts in the front foundation bed.

I’m really pleased with the foundation bed I planted at the front of the house. The bleeding hearts (Lamprocapnos spectabilis) are looking very robust and are blooming their, well, hearts out.

Ostrich ferns with bleeding hearts.
Ostrich ferns with bleeding hearts.

The ostrich ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) also seem pretty happy, as do the false forget-me-not and great merrybells. Actually, for some reason in this spot the Virginia bluebells are putting in only a tepid performance.

Grape hyacinths with celandine poppy.
Grape hyacinths with celandine poppy.

Oh, and I have to mention the grape hyacinths (Muscari armeniacum) that are blooming now. Oddly, though, there seem to be fewer this year than last. They make another good companion for the celandine poppy.

Front garden and house, May 15, 2014.
Front garden and house, May 15, 2014.

OK, I’m going to close now with a view of the front of the house. To see more blooms, check out May Dreams Gardens.

It’s Alive!

First, the good news. As a result of frequent applications of the Stare of Life, several of the plants on the winter death watch have broken dormancy. Specifically: both my two year old fringe trees (Chionanthus virginicus), the bluebeard (Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Longwood Blue’}, the ‘Blue Adonis’ compact butterflybush (Buddleia), and the ‘Conca D’Or’ orienpet lilies. Though only three of the five lilies I planted are up so far – but hey, I’m not going to complain.

Still dead: the flowering dogwood (Cornus florida) and the three serviceberries (Amelanchier x grandiflora ‘Autumn Brilliance’).

Peony 'America'
Peony ‘America’

All this goes to show that patience is an essential virtue for gardeners. A virtue I do not have, but an essential one nonetheless. Or, as an old colleague used to regularly tell me: never panic. It also shows the essential perversity of certain gardeners (OK, I mean me), because I now am suffering from just the slightest twinge of disappointment because I will be unable to buy replacements for the plants that were actually not killed by the severe winter. Some of us can just never be satisfied.

Now, the bad news. This is a terrible time to leave the garden, but I must leave early tomorrow morning and not return until Friday. This means that some plants could easily reach and then pass their peak while I am away. For example, I returned home today to find the blooms of peony ‘America’ opening. By Friday they could easily be done, especially if we have some warm, stormy weather. The same thing could happen with my ‘World Expressions’ tulips. And I will most likely to be gone for almost all of the remainder of May.

It’s a hard life.

Do you have to abandon your garden at crucial moments, and if so, how do you handle it? And do you have plants coming back from the dead?

Species Tulips: A Walk on the Wild Side

Gardeners in the western world have been hybridizing tulips for about 400 years. The resulting flowers have been varied, luscious, and mostly beautiful. However, tulips started out as wildflowers that grew on mostly rocky terrain from Central Asia to the Balkans. These wildflowers, and their near kin, are grown today as species tulips.

Tulipa clusiana
Tulipa clusiana

This seems like a good day to write about species tulips. For one thing, their season is coming to a close. For another, I was inspired by a recent post on this subject by Annette on My Personal Eden.

While not as sumptuous as their highly bred cousins, species tulips are beautiful in their own right and have a number of advantages over the hybrids. For one thing, under the right conditions they usually live longer than the hybrids, and may even naturalize in your garden. For another, the bulbs are smaller and are easier to fit into the open spaces between perennials. The foliage, too, while often attractive, is not as heavy as the hybrids’ and will fade away less conspicuously.

In my garden I grow these species tulips:

 

Tulipa turkestanica
Tulipa turkestanica

Tulipa turkestanica. White tepals with a yellow base. A low growing early bloomer that spreads slowly and is long-lived.  Like many species tulips, the flowers open up almost flat in full sun and close in the evening.

Tulipa biflora
Tulipa biflora

Tulipa biflora. Flowers grow in threes with the same colors as above. However, the bloom is a cup shaped with a more delicate texture. Blooms in April. Has staying power but does not spread.

Tulipa tarda
Tulipa tarda

Lady tulips (Tulipa tarda). Yellow flowers edged with white. Blooms a little later than the tulips mentioned above. Spreads modestly.

tulip little t or p
Tulipa ‘Little Beauty’

Tulipa ‘Little Beauty’. Purple-red flowers with a white and blue center. Blooms in May. Lasts for several years but does not spread in my garden. Less than 6″ tall. Cute!

Tulipa 'Little Princess' (orange) with T. clusiana
Tulipa ‘Little Princess’ (orange) with T. clusiana

Tulipa ‘Little Princess’. Much like ‘Little Beauty’, but these are orange with a black and yellow center.

Tulipa clusiana
Tulipa clusiana

Tulipa clusiana. Red and yellow on the outside, yellow with a red center on the inside. Elegantly shaped, in my opinion.

Tulipa praestans 'Fusilier'
Tulipa praestans

Tulipa praestans. This is a heartbreaker, because the scarlet red flowers are the most beautiful of all the species tulips – but in my garden it is short-lived. Still worth planting, though. ‘Fusilier’ is probably the most common variety, ‘Unicom’ has variegated leaves.

Generally if you want to buy species tulips you will need to get them from a good quality mail order retailer. As a general rule, these tulips like sun, a cold winter, a hot summer, and decent drainage (but check the recommended USDA zones for each species).

Do you grow species tulips in your garden?

Bring Out Your Dead?

I have been working very hard at not jumping to conclusions about which plants got killed off during our brutal winter. However, I am becoming increasingly fretful. Here’s the situation as of today.

Gone forever

Flowering Dogwood
Our flowering dogwood, lost at such a young age. Sigh.

After two seasons in my back garden, my flowering dogwood (Cornus florida ‘Appalachian Spring’) is pretty clearly a goner. No leaves, and the buds seem to be shriveling rather than swelling. These trees are only marginally hardy here. Also, I lost the newly planted shrub rose ‘Strike it Rich’. It was clearly a mistake to plant this rose in late summer, I should have waited until spring.

As I mentioned in a previous post, three serviceberries (Amelanchier x grandiflora ‘Autumn Brilliance’) also succumbed, more to the rabbits than to the cold. However, I’ve already replaced them with cranberrybush viburnum (Viburnum trilobum) – two ‘Redwing’ and one ‘Wentworth’. Fortunately I still have two healthy serviceberries.

On the Critical List

Caryopteris Longwood Blue
Bluebeard ‘Longwood Blue’

My bluebeards (Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Longwood Blue’) are not showing any signs of life. Ditto my compact butterflybush ‘Adonis Blue’. Shouldn’t I be seeing something by now? These were all planted last year.

It’s probably too early, but I’m worried about the ‘Conca D’Or’ orienpet lilies I planted last fall. They are nowhere to be seen. Someone please tell me this is normal.

Also, I shouldn’t be fretting about my fringe trees (Chionanthus virginicus), but I can’t help it. Scratching the stems exposed green tissue, but it seems they are taking an awfully long time to leaf out.

Lived to Tell the Tale

Rosa 'Sally Holmes'
‘Sally Holmes’ is a great shrub rose with lovely cream flowers.

I’ve had the shrub rose ‘Sally Holmes’  for several years, but this is the first time it has died back to the crown. Fortunately, new canes are emerging. Since this is an own root rose, ‘Sally’ should still be ‘Sally’ when she gets around to blooming.

Plus, my ‘Annabelle’ hydrangeas, while still alive, seem to have taken a real beating. They are putting forth a lot less green growth than they normally would, and it tends to be lower down on the stems. I thought ‘Annabelle’ was a very hardy shrub, so I am surprised.

On a Positive Note

My very own bloodroot.
My very own bloodroot.

Last year Rachelle of Talking to Plants sent me a bloodroot (Sanguineria canadensis) after I expressed a plaintive wish for some of these lovely woodland ephemerals. And guess what – it was blooming when I got back from the hospital! Unfortunately it peaked while I was away, but still I can now look forward to a growing bloodroot patch of my very own.

How bad were your winter losses, or are you still waiting to find out?

Spring Out of Sync

Following our long, cold winter, we seem to be having a cold spring as well. Temperatures lately are mostly in the 40s and 50s (F), well below normal. This means delayed blooming and leafing out, particularly for woody plants. In 2013 we had another cool spring, but many shrubs seem to  be running about two weeks behind where they were last year.

Spicebush blooms on May 4th. The fuzzy flowers are subtle, but I really like them.
Spicebush blooms on May 4th. The fuzzy flowers are subtle, but I really like them.

For example, my spicebush (Lindera benzoin) just started blooming a couple of days into May. Last year they began blooming by mid-April, and the flowers had all dropped by the end of the month.

Serviceberry still not blooming in early May.
Serviceberry still not blooming in early May.

And my serviceberry (Amelanchier x grandiflora) blooms still haven’t opened. Last year they were in flower by the end of April.

A lonely forsythia bloom.
A lonely forsythia bloom.

Plus, it looks like we won’t be getting any forsythia flowers to speak of this spring. No, I didn’t prune them too late. But it looks like the buds had started to open, only to be zapped by a sudden freeze.

A cool spring has its pros and cons. On the one hand, I don’t plan to put any really tender plants or seeds (tomatoes, morning glories, etc.) in the ground before June 1, if then. They will simply rot (or, at best, sulk) in the cold ground. Better to give the soil time to warm up.

Hellebores in May?
Hellebores in May?

On the other hand, early annuals will probably last far longer into the season. And perennial flowers won’t be so quick fade, either. The cool weather is also good for new transplants.

For myself, I am trying to focus on the positive. I can live with a cool spring as long as winter is truly gone.

Does a cool spring bother you much?