Faerie Holler's Spring concert begins: Bells, chimes, stars, green pearls---PEEPERS!!!!!!

Spring song has burst into an audible chorus up here in Faerie Holler and the surrounding area here in Eastern Tennessee. I've been noticing the usual signs of approaching spring at my own little holler and ridge. Hellebore in full blown bells in shades of soft blush purple and cream's with freckles. In four spots where I planted them. Some have shown me they're much happier where they reside by bulking up more and giving me so many blossoms it's tempting to cut a few for a spring bouquet, but I dare not, they don't hold up well once whacked, no matter if you place them in water immediately or not. These beauties are meant to be admired on the plant.
But traveling back and forth between Dandridge and Knoxville to take son to work has made me notice the little signs that a lot of people would take for granted or go unnoticed until it gets right in your face (Like it is now). I made notice to son the other day that Spring truly was on her way, because the damned privet along the sides of the interstate at every edging where trees and scrub and plants were peeking over the roadsides was greening up. And not just noticeable, but that livid, electric green that catches your eye. Despite that privet is an invasive weedy shrub here, the fresh green of the leaves is a welcome sight to tired eyes used to the somber greens of evergreen's and the tans and browns of winter palettes.
Traveling back and forth, I also noticed the arrival of the yellow bells of Forsythia's. My own remaining specimen sits near the driveway, lucky to even be allowed to reside where she does, but after successfully removing her sister last year after whacking at the roots for a year and a half, I was pleased to finally free up the space to then turn around and clutter the spot up with assorted crowded shrubs.
The most astounding display is the one in front of my lower neighbor's front yard. The forsythia's are ancient, and spaced about six feet across. Each one is towering to around eight foot high, about six foot wide and there are around six or seven of them, with alternating old white dogwoods tucked in at randomness. A young redbud sits at the back of their mailbox, which has an old Chinese almond bush around the base.
As you turn up the dead end road at the curve, the first thing you see are those bright eye aching yellow forsythia's. In this instance, I adore them. They have a front yard to revel in and give their all. Three of the seven are blooming now. And the other three or four as I'm not sure of the number, are past bloom and are leafing out. These bushes also turn a nice burgundy wine color on their leaves come cold weather and hold their leaves a long time before they finally drop. If I had that yard, I'd leave them be and enjoy their beauty for what they are.
The little, old Chinese almond at the base of their mailbox is struggling. It never reaches four foot, as the clay soil and gravel prevent it from sending it's roots deeply enough to reach it's fullest potential. But the little branches are loaded with pinkish white pom poms and it makes me wonder if my own bush is blooming up in Faerie Holler.
The shrub cluster that I planted near the driveway is starting to bud and pop out because that's where the south and western exposure is and it warms up much faster there. My Lenneii magnolia has bulked up three blossoms and is about to take off. I can hardly wait for her debut.
And since starting this a couple of days ago, and the warm temperatures and drenching rains, Lenneii has started bursting open. The soft pink hugeness of the flowers catches your breath. How I wish they had a fragrance, but I suppose their beauty wouldn't be so striking if they held perfume as well as intense beauty.
There are green pearls on the willow trees. Some really large specimens around where I live, are dangling the stems loaded with green leaves that look, as you pass them on the road, like green pearls. Every moist spot you pass you hear peepers. And here on Faerie Holler ridge, you hear the creeeeeeking of little frogs as well as the tree peepers. It is a song that makes my heart swell with happiness. It might get cold or we'll have a Mom's Nature snit fit with some plunging temperatures or even a snow as a joke, but the peepers and creaking of the little frogs that reside in every nook and niche around here will continue to sing and I will always attribute the first days to their chorus.
When dusk starts to thread it's way into the area, I hear the early peepers, anxious to get their serenades started. I can stand in the driveway, and listen and my heart lifts with their tuning of vocal cords. Behind them, the insistant melodious notes of mockingbirds, and the trills of the Mountain bluebird, or Indigo Bunting, as you like to choose the identy. Threading around these songs and harmonies, insect hums to fill the spaces in the chorus and concert, and the other birds. Rapid thrum's of woodpeckers and sap-suckers blend in the cacophony and add to the textures of sounds.
Robins, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Crows, chickadees, cooing's of Morning doves, every little type of bird is bursting with song. The air is literally filled with a not unpleasant blend of a multitude of bird songs, and if you sit still enough, you can seperate the songs out and almost locate the songster. Back to the gardens...............................
I have tiny bells, stars and chimes everywhere around the gardens. Little striped stars of white and blue of the Pushkinnia's that the fairies and me tucked in here and there at random. Tulipa saxatilis, 'Lilac Wonder' is blooming in a crowded pot of bulbs and reseeded Dames Rockets that sits out front on the further west end of the gardens in the little island of "grass" that now appears to be mostly vinca and other reseeded plants. Among those residing outside the perimeters of the landscape timbers that need replacing now for the edges, besides the Dames Rockets, are two clumps of Herbsonne Rudbeckia that threw their seeds southward in hopes of furthering their family. It worked. There is yet another clump to dig up and distribute somewhere else.
More pink and white stars of Chinodoxia pop up here and there, tucked into places by my busy little workers. And the Snowdrops fairy has been busy scattering and nurturing seedlings of these neat little plants for me to discover and enjoy. From the main clump in the middle of the Eastern bed, the fairy in charge tenderly coaxed a seedling to pop up in the middle of the Frakartii aster bed next to a hairy fern leaf clump of Oriental poppies. It's all I can do to resist the urge to lift it and tuck it into the Black Cherry garden.
And speaking of the Black Cherry garden......under her, the bed is popping all over the place. Two huge clumps of Hellebore, one with a little gnome/elf figurine whose name is Lilypon. She sits under the large, leathery older leaves of the Hellebore plant near the driveway at the edge that gets more sunlight. The success of the clump is because the toes of this plant are mulched with leaves and compost. Her smile gazes up at you when you part the leaves to reveal her gentle face as she has flowers and frogs around her. A garden hat on her head and a long dress that I suspect has pockets to put things into. She fits very well despite that she is a water Crone. Her place would probably be better beside the fountain's waters, but she seems to fit here.
In the bed, totally blowing my mind, are the Virginia Bluebells in the whiskey barrel. They're in full bloom, their blue bells chiming in the winds making imaginary tinkling as the breezes ruffle them as they hang there at the edge of the barrel sides. Down below, the babies that the seeds have sown are wiser and are just leafing out and making little clusters of buds.
Over beside the Hellebore, a single Muscari has popped it's little pointy head up thru the thick mat of leaves to unfurl a single stem with tiny, round, blue ringed with white bells. So tiny and perfect, each one with the white edged lips pursed and just open enough to encourage the teensy fliers to come inside and taste of their spring pollens.
Beside the whiskey barrel, the primroses are open and the one I found at my son's Lowes a few weeks back has settled it's toes into the rich compost and pumping out these awesome black-red edged with white around each petal with golden yellow throats. Their effect is stunning. You see them and have to come close to admire them. Beside the two little plants of these black and yellow flowers, is a fairy drunken with colors. On one primrose there is a lavender with yellow throated flower, and near it on the same plant, red blossoms, and a pink one. Unless the plants are separate and growing close together this little clump is amazing to behold.
Beside that, my Woodstock hyacinths are finally sending out the deep grape flowers. The cold from a few days ago have kissed the first flower bud, but the flared bells under the first are fine, holding that deep grape purple color that drew me to the package and the name sealed up the purchase last fall.
I see buds forming on all the bulbs I tucked into the soils I poured and mounded around the rest of the cherry tree last fall and wanting to have something in the soils, tucked in bulbs of all sorts. Something I never expected to survive that I've never had luck with is I have one tiny wind flower. She is so beautiful, I hope she loves the soils here enough to spread and colonize the earth I tucked her. If this survives, I will get more little dried up rhizomes this fall to try more of.
Again, since starting this thread and ramble, the bulbs have shot out their green tongues and produced flowers in humbling textures and design. Split cup daffs, looking like the fairies took scissors and cut the cups and gently pushed them against the collar of petals that ring those cups. Shades of orange that draw the eye with complimenting petals of creamy yellow.
Another clump of daffs that have just creamy yellowish white with fancy ruffled edges on the cups. And blousy heads of triple daffs that are so heavy they almost topple over. I had first one that was so wonderful to discover that I kept coming back to admire her until yesterday I saw that she had been joined by sisters all pleated and ruffled and fancy liken to herself. Tucked in those creamy yellowish white gatherings like some silken, faerie petticoat, are stray slips of fabric in a soft shade of orange, just to tease the eye. I want so badly to pluck them and bring them in, but they wouldn't last nearly as long in a vase as they are hovering over their mother bulb.
The one lone muscari has been joined by a clump of little pointy headed soldiers that I must have tucked down inside the bricko block holes in desperation to not disturb bulbs I had randomly planted last fall. They rise up just past the opening at the edge of the driveway and the edge of the black cherry bed, and openly laugh at me.
And the blueness of the Grace Ward! Words can not describe the amazing brightness and depth of this blue of these flowers. The bumblies have discovered each of the five clumps I tucked lovingly into the soils under the black cherry tree shade garden on the eastern side, and under the Lady Jane magnolia, and have laid claim to them as theirs. The blue is so bright, you want to see if there's a hole up in the sky missing like a jigsaw piece that has fallen..................
Over on the boardwalk that leads to my nook and the closed den door (because against it are shelves holding tender plants chomping at the bits to get OUTSIDE in the fresh rains and air) I have a pot planted with a whole regiment of Muscari bulbs. They greeted me the other day in full formation. So I picked up the pot, and placed it on the wide railing that Squire and youngest son had built for me a few seasons past. Up at eye level, you can see the superb details of each little "grape" blossom. Perfectly round, with slight pursed edges of white at the bottoms that only admit the tiniest pollinators that have wakened with early Spring breath.
The clay pot that is loaded with assorted surprises shows me that there are stirrings of white balloon flowers, a few slivers of Bright Lights phlox and mystery bulbs. Just today, they revealed themselves to be the orange species tulips with the black throats you have to bend down and admire in the foliage that almost swallows them up.
I'm totally excited now with the promise of stray appearances, so I continued my wanderings and observations. I have to check out sedums and succulents. And every planting has not only awakened, but plumped up, bulked out and started sending out tentative strings with young children, those little "chicks" as they're so cutely described (and so adequate) in their minature replication of their parent plants, shooting out from underneath the protective skirts of their "moms". I'm like some crazed, fat fairy again, running helter skelter all over the place like some loon in my garden hat and digital camera. I can't get close enough to capture the details of these textures and leaves and shoots. The camera sees so much better at times, and I appreciate the little details so much more............sigh..........I tend to wax a bit enthusiastic, but it is still my passion and it IS finally Spring up here.
I stop in my tracks. My heart swells. I am sooooo proud and pleased. It's my last year's purchase when I still had my truck. The fourteen foot, 25 gallon pot of Lady Jane magnolia. She was loaded with little fuzzy buds, and now, when I wasn't looking, they bulked up and started splitting the calyxes The sight of her is awesome. I count 16 fat blossoms and there are even more developing on the ends of her twigs.
Underneath her arms, I've planted a pot of happy little daff's and some golden crocus that are already finished. Grace Ward slipped in nicely. I have since purchased a couple of small pots of Arenaria to balance the deep blue flowers. The white bells should be fantastic when they set buds.
The sixteen have now become a whole shrub full of pink and shades of pink blossoms in several sizes, and now with the unusual warm spell, petals lie scattered on the ground and in the raised bed around her like perfect silk pieces. I had spotted two healthy columbine that had seeded on the terraced ridge that runs behind the house before it drops off, and I had lifted them up and out of the clay soil and plopped them into the soils I had filled in around Lady Jane, and right afterwards, they were drenched with three inches of a good soaking rain, so they're starting to get over their shock of transplanting and might survive. If they only flower and seed their hundreds of shiny black seeds, I'll be satisfied.
I've gone quite pot mad, though. The residents that are already planted up are starting to waken in their clustered spots near the front sliver-yard. My mom's concrete pot has a wakening bristly beard of phlox. Tiny little trumpet like pink flowers are starting to pop open. the digital camera reveals one has a ring of blue flame like edging around the mouth of the tiny flowers I've never noticed before. I'm in flower heaven!
A pot I thought I'd planted in a white phlox has fooled me and the return occupent is a pink one. And my Marilyn tulip has thrown up a child blossom to make me smile. I make mental note to feed the bulbs some food to hopefully insure they return and give me at least one flower next year. Even one is appreciated in her beauty. A soft yellow, brushed with flames of reddish on the insides and ringed around each petal with deep burgundy that is barely perceptible. You have to stop and not only smell the flowers here, you have to really LOOK at them and appreciate their individual beauty.
And the smells! This year, the Korean spice viburnum has graced me with TWO flower clusters on the ends of two branches. I can't imagine a mature shrub one day that will perfume the air. I hope I can experience it one day. I shared her scent today with a young woman who was amazed at the perfume of this flower. I then led her to the Cheerfulness narcissus to smell their tiny ruffled flowers in threes on one stem, and she did what I always do, she exhaled and went "yummmmmmmmmm, that's almost mouth watering!" I tell her it smells good enough to eat but is not fit for consumption.
The air is literally filled with the sound of humming as you stand listening, and you realize as I did yesterday that the black cherry tree has not only popped open, and is literally filled with blossoms, but the bee's are back in abundant droves. I remember I once described it as the tree was humming......well it's not learned the words yet, and it is humming again. It's a relief to hear the familiar sound. I stood transfixed yesterday and took pictures of heavily laden branches with white flowers at every three inches and intersection of branch and twig. I wish I had so many cherries later on............it would be wonderous!
The smell of this tree is so sweet, and the sight of her is truely sobering. I couldn't stand it and was so moved it made me cry with the beauty of this gift I've enjoyed for ten years now. And this year's blossoming seemed to assure me that it was as glorious as it was when we first got this house and property and it bloomed for us on the day we moved in. It might be missing a large water spout trunk that I had to cut off after flames from a burning damaged it, but the tree has forgiven Squire and me for the harm and grown more lower branches I refuse to cut back. Each one of these branches that dip low, are covered in blossoms.
Dragging myself away from her boughs of thousands of flowers, I go and admire the inhabitants of the driveway and brick "patio" area.
Hairy leafed poppy in cautionary wads in the Frakartii bed. A surprise appearance by another seedling snowdrop. Two glorious double, almost triple narcissus of undetermined linage that are so top heavy, I relented and snapped their hollow stems and placed them in a vase inside. Next year I will mark the spot and be ready with support wire to hold them up to endure the spring coolness and their flowers will last longer than when they're cut.
Everywhere I see daff's up and my smile becomes a part of my face. Soft, clean white outer petals of some with the cups wide open like laughing mouths, starting with the softest baby yellow, and flushing with a tender pink raspberry, that ends as a darker raspberry pink that from the full front of her, looks like a ring around the mouth of the cup. Up close with a picture, you see the true colorations and it's hard to imagine just how each flower blossom is so different from her sister. There are two perfect ones of this sort.
A good clump of peachy cupped beauties that are Flamingo pink are nestled against a fairy a sweet young girl gave me one year for having her in my home for a year when she had no other place to go. I have dubbed the faerie "Kristina" in her honor, and she sits vigil at the corner of the BBQ bricks that now form a small wall where various plants reside.
True faerie daffs that I planted near the other little resin gnome/faerie/elf figurine named Bulb are not only up but enchant me to kneel down to inspect and admire them. Bulb sits under the Vitex bush, near the slowly spreading clump of Nancy lamium. Around him, I had tucked two kinds of bulbs. A clean, soft ruffled butter yellow and white that rise up over his pointy hatted head, (he holds a gladiolas bulb in his hands) and these little tiny ones whose name escape me. These are so neat! Tiny, tiny little daffs. These have three to five flowers per stem, soft creamy white with perfect little "cups" like tiny cups on saucers. The flowers are no bigger than my fingertips. I can hold the whole miniature bouquet of them between my fingers and the only way I can see their perfection is to snap a picture of them on my digital camera.
Each of these little outer petals end in a perfect point that makes me tinkle a laugh from my lips. Awesome. I can't admire them enough. While kneeling there in admiration, I see a hint of both pink and blue. I believe they are the Chinodoxia's that I had tucked in the pot of heuchera's.
I also see fresh green in clumps and I know the Lemon Verbena is awake., I run my fingers thru their young leaves and am rewarded with the distinct smell of lemon. ahhhhhhhhh. I kneel and start pulling out maple seedlings and notice more and more coming up, and realize..........I need to make a second part to this, as it's all just too much.........so that's what I'll do, I'll continue this and drag you all thru faerie holler. Until a bit later, then, thanks for allowing me this long to share some of the magic that is unfolding up here.
madgardener, up on the ridge, back in bursting Faerie Holler, overlooking English Mountain (whose hillsides and woods are tinged with the lavender pink of thousands of redbuds!) in Eastern Tennessee, zone 7, Sunset zone 36
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Spring song has burst into an audible chorus up here in Faerie Holler and the surrounding area here in Eastern Tennessee. I've been noticing the usual signs of approaching spring at my own little holler and ridge. Hellebore in full blown bells in shades of soft blush purple and cream's with freckles. In four spots where I planted them. Some have shown me they're much happier where they reside by bulking up more and giving me so many blossoms it's tempting to cut a few for a spring bouquet, but I dare not, they don't hold up well once whacked, no matter if you place them in water immediately or not. These beauties are meant to be admired on the plant.
But traveling back and forth between Dandridge and Knoxville to take son to work has made me notice the little signs that a lot of people would take for granted or go unnoticed until it gets right in your face (Like it is now). I made notice to son the other day that Spring truly was on her way, because the damned privet along the sides of the interstate at every edging where trees and scrub and plants were peeking over the roadsides was greening up. And not just noticeable, but that livid, electric green that catches your eye. Despite that privet is an invasive weedy shrub here, the fresh green of the leaves is a welcome sight to tired eyes used to the somber greens of evergreen's and the tans and browns of winter palettes.
Traveling back and forth, I also noticed the arrival of the yellow bells of Forsythia's. My own remaining specimen sits near the driveway, lucky to even be allowed to reside where she does, but after successfully removing her sister last year after whacking at the roots for a year and a half, I was pleased to finally free up the space to then turn around and clutter the spot up with assorted crowded shrubs.
The most astounding display is the one in front of my lower neighbor's front yard. The forsythia's are ancient, and spaced about six feet across. Each one is towering to around eight foot high, about six foot wide and there are around six or seven of them, with alternating old white dogwoods tucked in at randomness. A young redbud sits at the back of their mailbox, which has an old Chinese almond bush around the base.
As you turn up the dead end road at the curve, the first thing you see are those bright eye aching yellow forsythia's. In this instance, I adore them. They have a front yard to revel in and give their all. Three of the seven are blooming now. And the other three or four as I'm not sure of the number, are past bloom and are leafing out. These bushes also turn a nice burgundy wine color on their leaves come cold weather and hold their leaves a long time before they finally drop. If I had that yard, I'd leave them be and enjoy their beauty for what they are.
The little, old Chinese almond at the base of their mailbox is struggling. It never reaches four foot, as the clay soil and gravel prevent it from sending it's roots deeply enough to reach it's fullest potential. But the little branches are loaded with pinkish white pom poms and it makes me wonder if my own bush is blooming up in Faerie Holler.
The shrub cluster that I planted near the driveway is starting to bud and pop out because that's where the south and western exposure is and it warms up much faster there. My Lenneii magnolia has bulked up three blossoms and is about to take off. I can hardly wait for her debut.
And since starting this a couple of days ago, and the warm temperatures and drenching rains, Lenneii has started bursting open. The soft pink hugeness of the flowers catches your breath. How I wish they had a fragrance, but I suppose their beauty wouldn't be so striking if they held perfume as well as intense beauty.
There are green pearls on the willow trees. Some really large specimens around where I live, are dangling the stems loaded with green leaves that look, as you pass them on the road, like green pearls. Every moist spot you pass you hear peepers. And here on Faerie Holler ridge, you hear the creeeeeeking of little frogs as well as the tree peepers. It is a song that makes my heart swell with happiness. It might get cold or we'll have a Mom's Nature snit fit with some plunging temperatures or even a snow as a joke, but the peepers and creaking of the little frogs that reside in every nook and niche around here will continue to sing and I will always attribute the first days to their chorus.
When dusk starts to thread it's way into the area, I hear the early peepers, anxious to get their serenades started. I can stand in the driveway, and listen and my heart lifts with their tuning of vocal cords. Behind them, the insistant melodious notes of mockingbirds, and the trills of the Mountain bluebird, or Indigo Bunting, as you like to choose the identy. Threading around these songs and harmonies, insect hums to fill the spaces in the chorus and concert, and the other birds. Rapid thrum's of woodpeckers and sap-suckers blend in the cacophony and add to the textures of sounds.
Robins, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Crows, chickadees, cooing's of Morning doves, every little type of bird is bursting with song. The air is literally filled with a not unpleasant blend of a multitude of bird songs, and if you sit still enough, you can seperate the songs out and almost locate the songster. Back to the gardens...............................
I have tiny bells, stars and chimes everywhere around the gardens. Little striped stars of white and blue of the Pushkinnia's that the fairies and me tucked in here and there at random. Tulipa saxatilis, 'Lilac Wonder' is blooming in a crowded pot of bulbs and reseeded Dames Rockets that sits out front on the further west end of the gardens in the little island of "grass" that now appears to be mostly vinca and other reseeded plants. Among those residing outside the perimeters of the landscape timbers that need replacing now for the edges, besides the Dames Rockets, are two clumps of Herbsonne Rudbeckia that threw their seeds southward in hopes of furthering their family. It worked. There is yet another clump to dig up and distribute somewhere else.
More pink and white stars of Chinodoxia pop up here and there, tucked into places by my busy little workers. And the Snowdrops fairy has been busy scattering and nurturing seedlings of these neat little plants for me to discover and enjoy. From the main clump in the middle of the Eastern bed, the fairy in charge tenderly coaxed a seedling to pop up in the middle of the Frakartii aster bed next to a hairy fern leaf clump of Oriental poppies. It's all I can do to resist the urge to lift it and tuck it into the Black Cherry garden.
And speaking of the Black Cherry garden......under her, the bed is popping all over the place. Two huge clumps of Hellebore, one with a little gnome/elf figurine whose name is Lilypon. She sits under the large, leathery older leaves of the Hellebore plant near the driveway at the edge that gets more sunlight. The success of the clump is because the toes of this plant are mulched with leaves and compost. Her smile gazes up at you when you part the leaves to reveal her gentle face as she has flowers and frogs around her. A garden hat on her head and a long dress that I suspect has pockets to put things into. She fits very well despite that she is a water Crone. Her place would probably be better beside the fountain's waters, but she seems to fit here.
In the bed, totally blowing my mind, are the Virginia Bluebells in the whiskey barrel. They're in full bloom, their blue bells chiming in the winds making imaginary tinkling as the breezes ruffle them as they hang there at the edge of the barrel sides. Down below, the babies that the seeds have sown are wiser and are just leafing out and making little clusters of buds.
Over beside the Hellebore, a single Muscari has popped it's little pointy head up thru the thick mat of leaves to unfurl a single stem with tiny, round, blue ringed with white bells. So tiny and perfect, each one with the white edged lips pursed and just open enough to encourage the teensy fliers to come inside and taste of their spring pollens.
Beside the whiskey barrel, the primroses are open and the one I found at my son's Lowes a few weeks back has settled it's toes into the rich compost and pumping out these awesome black-red edged with white around each petal with golden yellow throats. Their effect is stunning. You see them and have to come close to admire them. Beside the two little plants of these black and yellow flowers, is a fairy drunken with colors. On one primrose there is a lavender with yellow throated flower, and near it on the same plant, red blossoms, and a pink one. Unless the plants are separate and growing close together this little clump is amazing to behold.
Beside that, my Woodstock hyacinths are finally sending out the deep grape flowers. The cold from a few days ago have kissed the first flower bud, but the flared bells under the first are fine, holding that deep grape purple color that drew me to the package and the name sealed up the purchase last fall.
I see buds forming on all the bulbs I tucked into the soils I poured and mounded around the rest of the cherry tree last fall and wanting to have something in the soils, tucked in bulbs of all sorts. Something I never expected to survive that I've never had luck with is I have one tiny wind flower. She is so beautiful, I hope she loves the soils here enough to spread and colonize the earth I tucked her. If this survives, I will get more little dried up rhizomes this fall to try more of.
Again, since starting this thread and ramble, the bulbs have shot out their green tongues and produced flowers in humbling textures and design. Split cup daffs, looking like the fairies took scissors and cut the cups and gently pushed them against the collar of petals that ring those cups. Shades of orange that draw the eye with complimenting petals of creamy yellow.
Another clump of daffs that have just creamy yellowish white with fancy ruffled edges on the cups. And blousy heads of triple daffs that are so heavy they almost topple over. I had first one that was so wonderful to discover that I kept coming back to admire her until yesterday I saw that she had been joined by sisters all pleated and ruffled and fancy liken to herself. Tucked in those creamy yellowish white gatherings like some silken, faerie petticoat, are stray slips of fabric in a soft shade of orange, just to tease the eye. I want so badly to pluck them and bring them in, but they wouldn't last nearly as long in a vase as they are hovering over their mother bulb.
The one lone muscari has been joined by a clump of little pointy headed soldiers that I must have tucked down inside the bricko block holes in desperation to not disturb bulbs I had randomly planted last fall. They rise up just past the opening at the edge of the driveway and the edge of the black cherry bed, and openly laugh at me.
And the blueness of the Grace Ward! Words can not describe the amazing brightness and depth of this blue of these flowers. The bumblies have discovered each of the five clumps I tucked lovingly into the soils under the black cherry tree shade garden on the eastern side, and under the Lady Jane magnolia, and have laid claim to them as theirs. The blue is so bright, you want to see if there's a hole up in the sky missing like a jigsaw piece that has fallen..................
Over on the boardwalk that leads to my nook and the closed den door (because against it are shelves holding tender plants chomping at the bits to get OUTSIDE in the fresh rains and air) I have a pot planted with a whole regiment of Muscari bulbs. They greeted me the other day in full formation. So I picked up the pot, and placed it on the wide railing that Squire and youngest son had built for me a few seasons past. Up at eye level, you can see the superb details of each little "grape" blossom. Perfectly round, with slight pursed edges of white at the bottoms that only admit the tiniest pollinators that have wakened with early Spring breath.
The clay pot that is loaded with assorted surprises shows me that there are stirrings of white balloon flowers, a few slivers of Bright Lights phlox and mystery bulbs. Just today, they revealed themselves to be the orange species tulips with the black throats you have to bend down and admire in the foliage that almost swallows them up.
I'm totally excited now with the promise of stray appearances, so I continued my wanderings and observations. I have to check out sedums and succulents. And every planting has not only awakened, but plumped up, bulked out and started sending out tentative strings with young children, those little "chicks" as they're so cutely described (and so adequate) in their minature replication of their parent plants, shooting out from underneath the protective skirts of their "moms". I'm like some crazed, fat fairy again, running helter skelter all over the place like some loon in my garden hat and digital camera. I can't get close enough to capture the details of these textures and leaves and shoots. The camera sees so much better at times, and I appreciate the little details so much more............sigh..........I tend to wax a bit enthusiastic, but it is still my passion and it IS finally Spring up here.
I stop in my tracks. My heart swells. I am sooooo proud and pleased. It's my last year's purchase when I still had my truck. The fourteen foot, 25 gallon pot of Lady Jane magnolia. She was loaded with little fuzzy buds, and now, when I wasn't looking, they bulked up and started splitting the calyxes The sight of her is awesome. I count 16 fat blossoms and there are even more developing on the ends of her twigs.
Underneath her arms, I've planted a pot of happy little daff's and some golden crocus that are already finished. Grace Ward slipped in nicely. I have since purchased a couple of small pots of Arenaria to balance the deep blue flowers. The white bells should be fantastic when they set buds.
The sixteen have now become a whole shrub full of pink and shades of pink blossoms in several sizes, and now with the unusual warm spell, petals lie scattered on the ground and in the raised bed around her like perfect silk pieces. I had spotted two healthy columbine that had seeded on the terraced ridge that runs behind the house before it drops off, and I had lifted them up and out of the clay soil and plopped them into the soils I had filled in around Lady Jane, and right afterwards, they were drenched with three inches of a good soaking rain, so they're starting to get over their shock of transplanting and might survive. If they only flower and seed their hundreds of shiny black seeds, I'll be satisfied.
I've gone quite pot mad, though. The residents that are already planted up are starting to waken in their clustered spots near the front sliver-yard. My mom's concrete pot has a wakening bristly beard of phlox. Tiny little trumpet like pink flowers are starting to pop open. the digital camera reveals one has a ring of blue flame like edging around the mouth of the tiny flowers I've never noticed before. I'm in flower heaven!
A pot I thought I'd planted in a white phlox has fooled me and the return occupent is a pink one. And my Marilyn tulip has thrown up a child blossom to make me smile. I make mental note to feed the bulbs some food to hopefully insure they return and give me at least one flower next year. Even one is appreciated in her beauty. A soft yellow, brushed with flames of reddish on the insides and ringed around each petal with deep burgundy that is barely perceptible. You have to stop and not only smell the flowers here, you have to really LOOK at them and appreciate their individual beauty.
And the smells! This year, the Korean spice viburnum has graced me with TWO flower clusters on the ends of two branches. I can't imagine a mature shrub one day that will perfume the air. I hope I can experience it one day. I shared her scent today with a young woman who was amazed at the perfume of this flower. I then led her to the Cheerfulness narcissus to smell their tiny ruffled flowers in threes on one stem, and she did what I always do, she exhaled and went "yummmmmmmmmm, that's almost mouth watering!" I tell her it smells good enough to eat but is not fit for consumption.
The air is literally filled with the sound of humming as you stand listening, and you realize as I did yesterday that the black cherry tree has not only popped open, and is literally filled with blossoms, but the bee's are back in abundant droves. I remember I once described it as the tree was humming......well it's not learned the words yet, and it is humming again. It's a relief to hear the familiar sound. I stood transfixed yesterday and took pictures of heavily laden branches with white flowers at every three inches and intersection of branch and twig. I wish I had so many cherries later on............it would be wonderous!
The smell of this tree is so sweet, and the sight of her is truely sobering. I couldn't stand it and was so moved it made me cry with the beauty of this gift I've enjoyed for ten years now. And this year's blossoming seemed to assure me that it was as glorious as it was when we first got this house and property and it bloomed for us on the day we moved in. It might be missing a large water spout trunk that I had to cut off after flames from a burning damaged it, but the tree has forgiven Squire and me for the harm and grown more lower branches I refuse to cut back. Each one of these branches that dip low, are covered in blossoms.
Dragging myself away from her boughs of thousands of flowers, I go and admire the inhabitants of the driveway and brick "patio" area.
Hairy leafed poppy in cautionary wads in the Frakartii bed. A surprise appearance by another seedling snowdrop. Two glorious double, almost triple narcissus of undetermined linage that are so top heavy, I relented and snapped their hollow stems and placed them in a vase inside. Next year I will mark the spot and be ready with support wire to hold them up to endure the spring coolness and their flowers will last longer than when they're cut.
Everywhere I see daff's up and my smile becomes a part of my face. Soft, clean white outer petals of some with the cups wide open like laughing mouths, starting with the softest baby yellow, and flushing with a tender pink raspberry, that ends as a darker raspberry pink that from the full front of her, looks like a ring around the mouth of the cup. Up close with a picture, you see the true colorations and it's hard to imagine just how each flower blossom is so different from her sister. There are two perfect ones of this sort.
A good clump of peachy cupped beauties that are Flamingo pink are nestled against a fairy a sweet young girl gave me one year for having her in my home for a year when she had no other place to go. I have dubbed the faerie "Kristina" in her honor, and she sits vigil at the corner of the BBQ bricks that now form a small wall where various plants reside.
True faerie daffs that I planted near the other little resin gnome/faerie/elf figurine named Bulb are not only up but enchant me to kneel down to inspect and admire them. Bulb sits under the Vitex bush, near the slowly spreading clump of Nancy lamium. Around him, I had tucked two kinds of bulbs. A clean, soft ruffled butter yellow and white that rise up over his pointy hatted head, (he holds a gladiolas bulb in his hands) and these little tiny ones whose name escape me. These are so neat! Tiny, tiny little daffs. These have three to five flowers per stem, soft creamy white with perfect little "cups" like tiny cups on saucers. The flowers are no bigger than my fingertips. I can hold the whole miniature bouquet of them between my fingers and the only way I can see their perfection is to snap a picture of them on my digital camera.
Each of these little outer petals end in a perfect point that makes me tinkle a laugh from my lips. Awesome. I can't admire them enough. While kneeling there in admiration, I see a hint of both pink and blue. I believe they are the Chinodoxia's that I had tucked in the pot of heuchera's.
I also see fresh green in clumps and I know the Lemon Verbena is awake., I run my fingers thru their young leaves and am rewarded with the distinct smell of lemon. ahhhhhhhhh. I kneel and start pulling out maple seedlings and notice more and more coming up, and realize..........I need to make a second part to this, as it's all just too much.........so that's what I'll do, I'll continue this and drag you all thru faerie holler. Until a bit later, then, thanks for allowing me this long to share some of the magic that is unfolding up here.
madgardener, up on the ridge, back in bursting Faerie Holler, overlooking English Mountain (whose hillsides and woods are tinged with the lavender pink of thousands of redbuds!) in Eastern Tennessee, zone 7, Sunset zone 36
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One question: why do you reply to yourself? Do you also send yourself Valentines?
Another question: why are you so forking strange? Actually, your quote above answers that neatly.
*PLONK*
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Nice to see you back on form, Mad...and thanks. I knew you would :-)
Janet
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thank you sugar. I'll finish this up tonight, there is soooo much to tell yet. sad to see Leon Trotski doesn't realize a "hiccup" when he sees it. Oh well, some like me, others killfile me <gbseg> maddie

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I sent it to my home e-mail account so I could enjoy it at my leisure... :-)
Callen in VA (sorry for the top-post)

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won't even see my answer, but my server had a "hiccup" and sent the post twice. I didn't reply to it dingle berry! And yes, I AM the madgardener. If you don't like my posts, then you're entitled.......... maddie

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Trolling, trolling, over the bounding main....
--
Ann, gardening in Zone 6a
South of Boston, Massachusetts
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yeppers. howze ya DOING?????????????? maddie (is it about time for a visit from youse and yer hub's?)
expounded:

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So stressed out at work it isn't funny. I'm about to jump ship (to keep with the post theme <G>) I dunno if we're going down that way yet, but it's a possibility, although his parents are already back in Michigan. I've meant to write you, so expect a note soon......
--
Ann, gardening in Zone 6a
South of Boston, Massachusetts
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Thanks Mad!!
Here in the northland we can only wait and watch as the snow recedes. Spring doesn't sing out in concert here in the western hills of Maine. Spring, here, is a tempestuous, decietful, wanton entity who plays entirely to rough.
With my applause for your Spring Concert, I can, today offer a dozen or so stalwart golden yellow crocus buds that will open tomorrow morning. Three days ago they were covered by an ice floe 2 inches thick.
Oh, and on my way to the bird feeders ( for the first time this week without wellingtons to wade thru the floodwaters) I did notice some green thyme and the soft grey-green of Lambs Ears sunning themselves at the open edge of receding glacial plow waves.
As I stood in the kitchen late this afternoon, I could see plumping buds on the lilacs just beyond the window panes.
Changes, changes, yes. Faerie Holler doesn't get 8 feet of snow in the six weeks AFTER Groundhog Day, but I am assured that my faeries and your faeries speak the same language. They DO live on completely different schedules... my faeries don't sing until late May, early June.
But it so helps me this time of year to hear your concert. I know Mine is coming. ( jeepers, creepers, when will I hear the peepers? )
Sue Western Maine Snow Socked, Rain Whacked, Rivers UP and my snow plowing bill for the winter is a record for the 16 years we've lived in this house.
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You folks have to be crazy! Unless the beauty, freedom and community outweighs the snow.
Id hazard a guess it does.
Peepers a bit slow down here (Quiet) in South Jersey but Magnolias bloomed two days ago after temps of 72 f came in from nowhere. Japanese ferns about 6 inches and Solomon Seals about 3 inches. Fish in pond want food. I have humming bird stuff out but I push things.
Best
Bill who has been walking about in shorts ...just a little ;))
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Zone 5 S Jersey USA Shade garden in a Japanese manner
Vision problems? http://www.ocutech.com/ we own two.
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hey sue, want some pictures to ease your soul? maddie

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Yesterday I found some more stirrings. Daylilies poking up green fingers... Iris, both Siberian and and some heirloom Dutch, the hollyhocks beyond the cedar rail fence have new green leaves at the base. Deep Red Oriental Poppies are swiftly leafing above ground. Crabapple buds are swelling. Although a bright sunny day, Monday was prettier to look out at then BE OUT IN, with a cold raw arctic breeze freshening all day.
Today....... pffffffffffffffffffttttttttttttt.. its snowing. Sigh. The only color in my back yard today are the goldfinches and purple finches flocking to the feeders, just splashes of lemon yellow and deep magenta against a stark, grey, fuzzy landscape.
This, too, shall pass. My WORK WEEK looks to be bright and sunny with temps in the mid to upper 50's.
Sue Western Maine
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I heard peepers in Lebanon last Saturday night! We still have a foot of hardpacked snow/ice with rivers of open running water throughout the backyard, though!
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Ann, gardening in Zone 6a
South of Boston, Massachusetts
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Oh, Maddie, Send me some pics!
Gloria
Spring song has burst into an audible chorus up here in Faerie Holler and the surrounding area here in Eastern Tennessee. I've been noticing the usual signs of approaching spring at my own little holler and ridge. Hellebore in full blown bells in shades of soft blush purple and cream's with freckles. In four spots where I planted them. Some have shown me they're much happier where they reside by bulking up more and giving me so many blossoms it's tempting to cut a few for a spring bouquet, but I dare not, they don't hold up well once whacked, no matter if you place them in water immediately or not. These beauties are meant to be admired on the plant.
But traveling back and forth between Dandridge and Knoxville to take son to work has made me notice the little signs that a lot of people would take for granted or go unnoticed until it gets right in your face (Like it is now). I made notice to son the other day that Spring truly was on her way, because the damned privet along the sides of the interstate at every edging where trees and scrub and plants were peeking over the roadsides was greening up. And not just noticeable, but that livid, electric green that catches your eye. Despite that privet is an invasive weedy shrub here, the fresh green of the leaves is a welcome sight to tired eyes used to the somber greens of evergreen's and the tans and browns of winter palettes.
Traveling back and forth, I also noticed the arrival of the yellow bells of Forsythia's. My own remaining specimen sits near the driveway, lucky to even be allowed to reside where she does, but after successfully removing her sister last year after whacking at the roots for a year and a half, I was pleased to finally free up the space to then turn around and clutter the spot up with assorted crowded shrubs.
The most astounding display is the one in front of my lower neighbor's front yard. The forsythia's are ancient, and spaced about six feet across. Each one is towering to around eight foot high, about six foot wide and there are around six or seven of them, with alternating old white dogwoods tucked in at randomness. A young redbud sits at the back of their mailbox, which has an old Chinese almond bush around the base.
As you turn up the dead end road at the curve, the first thing you see are those bright eye aching yellow forsythia's. In this instance, I adore them. They have a front yard to revel in and give their all. Three of the seven are blooming now. And the other three or four as I'm not sure of the number, are past bloom and are leafing out. These bushes also turn a nice burgundy wine color on their leaves come cold weather and hold their leaves a long time before they finally drop. If I had that yard, I'd leave them be and enjoy their beauty for what they are.
The little, old Chinese almond at the base of their mailbox is struggling. It never reaches four foot, as the clay soil and gravel prevent it from sending it's roots deeply enough to reach it's fullest potential. But the little branches are loaded with pinkish white pom poms and it makes me wonder if my own bush is blooming up in Faerie Holler.
The shrub cluster that I planted near the driveway is starting to bud and pop out because that's where the south and western exposure is and it warms up much faster there. My Lenneii magnolia has bulked up three blossoms and is about to take off. I can hardly wait for her debut.
And since starting this a couple of days ago, and the warm temperatures and drenching rains, Lenneii has started bursting open. The soft pink hugeness of the flowers catches your breath. How I wish they had a fragrance, but I suppose their beauty wouldn't be so striking if they held perfume as well as intense beauty.
There are green pearls on the willow trees. Some really large specimens around where I live, are dangling the stems loaded with green leaves that look, as you pass them on the road, like green pearls. Every moist spot you pass you hear peepers. And here on Faerie Holler ridge, you hear the creeeeeeking of little frogs as well as the tree peepers. It is a song that makes my heart swell with happiness. It might get cold or we'll have a Mom's Nature snit fit with some plunging temperatures or even a snow as a joke, but the peepers and creaking of the little frogs that reside in every nook and niche around here will continue to sing and I will always attribute the first days to their chorus.
When dusk starts to thread it's way into the area, I hear the early peepers, anxious to get their serenades started. I can stand in the driveway, and listen and my heart lifts with their tuning of vocal cords. Behind them, the insistant melodious notes of mockingbirds, and the trills of the Mountain bluebird, or Indigo Bunting, as you like to choose the identy. Threading around these songs and harmonies, insect hums to fill the spaces in the chorus and concert, and the other birds. Rapid thrum's of woodpeckers and sap-suckers blend in the cacophony and add to the textures of sounds.
Robins, Cardinals, Blue Jays, Crows, chickadees, cooing's of Morning doves, every little type of bird is bursting with song. The air is literally filled with a not unpleasant blend of a multitude of bird songs, and if you sit still enough, you can seperate the songs out and almost locate the songster. Back to the gardens...............................
I have tiny bells, stars and chimes everywhere around the gardens. Little striped stars of white and blue of the Pushkinnia's that the fairies and me tucked in here and there at random. Tulipa saxatilis, 'Lilac Wonder' is blooming in a crowded pot of bulbs and reseeded Dames Rockets that sits out front on the further west end of the gardens in the little island of "grass" that now appears to be mostly vinca and other reseeded plants. Among those residing outside the perimeters of the landscape timbers that need replacing now for the edges, besides the Dames Rockets, are two clumps of Herbsonne Rudbeckia that threw their seeds southward in hopes of furthering their family. It worked. There is yet another clump to dig up and distribute somewhere else.
More pink and white stars of Chinodoxia pop up here and there, tucked into places by my busy little workers. And the Snowdrops fairy has been busy scattering and nurturing seedlings of these neat little plants for me to discover and enjoy. From the main clump in the middle of the Eastern bed, the fairy in charge tenderly coaxed a seedling to pop up in the middle of the Frakartii aster bed next to a hairy fern leaf clump of Oriental poppies. It's all I can do to resist the urge to lift it and tuck it into the Black Cherry garden.
And speaking of the Black Cherry garden......under her, the bed is popping all over the place. Two huge clumps of Hellebore, one with a little gnome/elf figurine whose name is Lilypon. She sits under the large, leathery older leaves of the Hellebore plant near the driveway at the edge that gets more sunlight. The success of the clump is because the toes of this plant are mulched with leaves and compost. Her smile gazes up at you when you part the leaves to reveal her gentle face as she has flowers and frogs around her. A garden hat on her head and a long dress that I suspect has pockets to put things into. She fits very well despite that she is a water Crone. Her place would probably be better beside the fountain's waters, but she seems to fit here.
In the bed, totally blowing my mind, are the Virginia Bluebells in the whiskey barrel. They're in full bloom, their blue bells chiming in the winds making imaginary tinkling as the breezes ruffle them as they hang there at the edge of the barrel sides. Down below, the babies that the seeds have sown are wiser and are just leafing out and making little clusters of buds.
Over beside the Hellebore, a single Muscari has popped it's little pointy head up thru the thick mat of leaves to unfurl a single stem with tiny, round, blue ringed with white bells. So tiny and perfect, each one with the white edged lips pursed and just open enough to encourage the teensy fliers to come inside and taste of their spring pollens.
Beside the whiskey barrel, the primroses are open and the one I found at my son's Lowes a few weeks back has settled it's toes into the rich compost and pumping out these awesome black-red edged with white around each petal with golden yellow throats. Their effect is stunning. You see them and have to come close to admire them. Beside the two little plants of these black and yellow flowers, is a fairy drunken with colors. On one primrose there is a lavender with yellow throated flower, and near it on the same plant, red blossoms, and a pink one. Unless the plants are separate and growing close together this little clump is amazing to behold.
Beside that, my Woodstock hyacinths are finally sending out the deep grape flowers. The cold from a few days ago have kissed the first flower bud, but the flared bells under the first are fine, holding that deep grape purple color that drew me to the package and the name sealed up the purchase last fall.
I see buds forming on all the bulbs I tucked into the soils I poured and mounded around the rest of the cherry tree last fall and wanting to have something in the soils, tucked in bulbs of all sorts. Something I never expected to survive that I've never had luck with is I have one tiny wind flower. She is so beautiful, I hope she loves the soils here enough to spread and colonize the earth I tucked her. If this survives, I will get more little dried up rhizomes this fall to try more of.
Again, since starting this thread and ramble, the bulbs have shot out their green tongues and produced flowers in humbling textures and design. Split cup daffs, looking like the fairies took scissors and cut the cups and gently pushed them against the collar of petals that ring those cups. Shades of orange that draw the eye with complimenting petals of creamy yellow.
Another clump of daffs that have just creamy yellowish white with fancy ruffled edges on the cups. And blousy heads of triple daffs that are so heavy they almost topple over. I had first one that was so wonderful to discover that I kept coming back to admire her until yesterday I saw that she had been joined by sisters all pleated and ruffled and fancy liken to herself. Tucked in those creamy yellowish white gatherings like some silken, faerie petticoat, are stray slips of fabric in a soft shade of orange, just to tease the eye. I want so badly to pluck them and bring them in, but they wouldn't last nearly as long in a vase as they are hovering over their mother bulb.
The one lone muscari has been joined by a clump of little pointy headed soldiers that I must have tucked down inside the bricko block holes in desperation to not disturb bulbs I had randomly planted last fall. They rise up just past the opening at the edge of the driveway and the edge of the black cherry bed, and openly laugh at me.
And the blueness of the Grace Ward! Words can not describe the amazing brightness and depth of this blue of these flowers. The bumblies have discovered each of the five clumps I tucked lovingly into the soils under the black cherry tree shade garden on the eastern side, and under the Lady Jane magnolia, and have laid claim to them as theirs. The blue is so bright, you want to see if there's a hole up in the sky missing like a jigsaw piece that has fallen..................
Over on the boardwalk that leads to my nook and the closed den door (because against it are shelves holding tender plants chomping at the bits to get OUTSIDE in the fresh rains and air) I have a pot planted with a whole regiment of Muscari bulbs. They greeted me the other day in full formation. So I picked up the pot, and placed it on the wide railing that Squire and youngest son had built for me a few seasons past. Up at eye level, you can see the superb details of each little "grape" blossom. Perfectly round, with slight pursed edges of white at the bottoms that only admit the tiniest pollinators that have wakened with early Spring breath.
The clay pot that is loaded with assorted surprises shows me that there are stirrings of white balloon flowers, a few slivers of Bright Lights phlox and mystery bulbs. Just today, they revealed themselves to be the orange species tulips with the black throats you have to bend down and admire in the foliage that almost swallows them up.
I'm totally excited now with the promise of stray appearances, so I continued my wanderings and observations. I have to check out sedums and succulents. And every planting has not only awakened, but plumped up, bulked out and started sending out tentative strings with young children, those little "chicks" as they're so cutely described (and so adequate) in their minature replication of their parent plants, shooting out from underneath the protective skirts of their "moms". I'm like some crazed, fat fairy again, running helter skelter all over the place like some loon in my garden hat and digital camera. I can't get close enough to capture the details of these textures and leaves and shoots. The camera sees so much better at times, and I appreciate the little details so much more............sigh..........I tend to wax a bit enthusiastic, but it is still my passion and it IS finally Spring up here.
I stop in my tracks. My heart swells. I am sooooo proud and pleased. It's my last year's purchase when I still had my truck. The fourteen foot, 25 gallon pot of Lady Jane magnolia. She was loaded with little fuzzy buds, and now, when I wasn't looking, they bulked up and started splitting the calyxes The sight of her is awesome. I count 16 fat blossoms and there are even more developing on the ends of her twigs.
Underneath her arms, I've planted a pot of happy little daff's and some golden crocus that are already finished. Grace Ward slipped in nicely. I have since purchased a couple of small pots of Arenaria to balance the deep blue flowers. The white bells should be fantastic when they set buds.
The sixteen have now become a whole shrub full of pink and shades of pink blossoms in several sizes, and now with the unusual warm spell, petals lie scattered on the ground and in the raised bed around her like perfect silk pieces. I had spotted two healthy columbine that had seeded on the terraced ridge that runs behind the house before it drops off, and I had lifted them up and out of the clay soil and plopped them into the soils I had filled in around Lady Jane, and right afterwards, they were drenched with three inches of a good soaking rain, so they're starting to get over their shock of transplanting and might survive. If they only flower and seed their hundreds of shiny black seeds, I'll be satisfied.
I've gone quite pot mad, though. The residents that are already planted up are starting to waken in their clustered spots near the front sliver-yard. My mom's concrete pot has a wakening bristly beard of phlox. Tiny little trumpet like pink flowers are starting to pop open. the digital camera reveals one has a ring of blue flame like edging around the mouth of the tiny flowers I've never noticed before. I'm in flower heaven!
A pot I thought I'd planted in a white phlox has fooled me and the return occupent is a pink one. And my Marilyn tulip has thrown up a child blossom to make me smile. I make mental note to feed the bulbs some food to hopefully insure they return and give me at least one flower next year. Even one is appreciated in her beauty. A soft yellow, brushed with flames of reddish on the insides and ringed around each petal with deep burgundy that is barely perceptible. You have to stop and not only smell the flowers here, you have to really LOOK at them and appreciate their individual beauty.
And the smells! This year, the Korean spice viburnum has graced me with TWO flower clusters on the ends of two branches. I can't imagine a mature shrub one day that will perfume the air. I hope I can experience it one day. I shared her scent today with a young woman who was amazed at the perfume of this flower. I then led her to the Cheerfulness narcissus to smell their tiny ruffled flowers in threes on one stem, and she did what I always do, she exhaled and went "yummmmmmmmmm, that's almost mouth watering!" I tell her it smells good enough to eat but is not fit for consumption.
The air is literally filled with the sound of humming as you stand listening, and you realize as I did yesterday that the black cherry tree has not only popped open, and is literally filled with blossoms, but the bee's are back in abundant droves. I remember I once described it as the tree was humming......well it's not learned the words yet, and it is humming again. It's a relief to hear the familiar sound. I stood transfixed yesterday and took pictures of heavily laden branches with white flowers at every three inches and intersection of branch and twig. I wish I had so many cherries later on............it would be wonderous!
The smell of this tree is so sweet, and the sight of her is truely sobering. I couldn't stand it and was so moved it made me cry with the beauty of this gift I've enjoyed for ten years now. And this year's blossoming seemed to assure me that it was as glorious as it was when we first got this house and property and it bloomed for us on the day we moved in. It might be missing a large water spout trunk that I had to cut off after flames from a burning damaged it, but the tree has forgiven Squire and me for the harm and grown more lower branches I refuse to cut back. Each one of these branches that dip low, are covered in blossoms.
Dragging myself away from her boughs of thousands of flowers, I go and admire the inhabitants of the driveway and brick "patio" area.
Hairy leafed poppy in cautionary wads in the Frakartii bed. A surprise appearance by another seedling snowdrop. Two glorious double, almost triple narcissus of undetermined linage that are so top heavy, I relented and snapped their hollow stems and placed them in a vase inside. Next year I will mark the spot and be ready with support wire to hold them up to endure the spring coolness and their flowers will last longer than when they're cut.
Everywhere I see daff's up and my smile becomes a part of my face. Soft, clean white outer petals of some with the cups wide open like laughing mouths, starting with the softest baby yellow, and flushing with a tender pink raspberry, that ends as a darker raspberry pink that from the full front of her, looks like a ring around the mouth of the cup. Up close with a picture, you see the true colorations and it's hard to imagine just how each flower blossom is so different from her sister. There are two perfect ones of this sort.
A good clump of peachy cupped beauties that are Flamingo pink are nestled against a fairy a sweet young girl gave me one year for having her in my home for a year when she had no other place to go. I have dubbed the faerie "Kristina" in her honor, and she sits vigil at the corner of the BBQ bricks that now form a small wall where various plants reside.
True faerie daffs that I planted near the other little resin gnome/faerie/elf figurine named Bulb are not only up but enchant me to kneel down to inspect and admire them. Bulb sits under the Vitex bush, near the slowly spreading clump of Nancy lamium. Around him, I had tucked two kinds of bulbs. A clean, soft ruffled butter yellow and white that rise up over his pointy hatted head, (he holds a gladiolas bulb in his hands) and these little tiny ones whose name escape me. These are so neat! Tiny, tiny little daffs. These have three to five flowers per stem, soft creamy white with perfect little "cups" like tiny cups on saucers. The flowers are no bigger than my fingertips. I can hold the whole miniature bouquet of them between my fingers and the only way I can see their perfection is to snap a picture of them on my digital camera.
Each of these little outer petals end in a perfect point that makes me tinkle a laugh from my lips. Awesome. I can't admire them enough. While kneeling there in admiration, I see a hint of both pink and blue. I believe they are the Chinodoxia's that I had tucked in the pot of heuchera's.
I also see fresh green in clumps and I know the Lemon Verbena is awake., I run my fingers thru their young leaves and am rewarded with the distinct smell of lemon. ahhhhhhhhh. I kneel and start pulling out maple seedlings and notice more and more coming up, and realize..........I need to make a second part to this, as it's all just too much.........so that's what I'll do, I'll continue this and drag you all thru faerie holler. Until a bit later, then, thanks for allowing me this long to share some of the magic that is unfolding up here.
madgardener, up on the ridge, back in bursting Faerie Holler, overlooking English Mountain (whose hillsides and woods are tinged with the lavender pink of thousands of redbuds!) in Eastern Tennessee, zone 7, Sunset zone 36
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