They say that there are no color clashes in nature. I think that I would probably agree–but it doesn’t mean that we have to like everything that we see.
This time of year, this color combination happens to be very prominent around here. You would think that I would be so grateful to see flowers of any sort after almost 6 months of wet and cold that I would like just about anything, wouldn’t you? But no! I have to be picky on top of it!
This sweet pink with the bright yellow–each of which I love either individually or with other colors–together just doesn’t do it for me.
This is my rhododendron, `Olga Mezett.’ My neighbor’s forsythia is behind it on the next lot. My rhodie is not quite as red as it appears here–but it’s also not bubble gum pink.
This is a better view, with a truer idea of the color. It’s probably closer to fuchsia. And I have no issues with fuchsia and yellow together. In fact, that twiggy shrub next to the rhodie is an orange witch hazel that has just finished blooming, so imagine those two hot colors together. That’s more my style. Now you see why I am not in love with the pink and yellow together.
But as I always used to say when I worked in retail gardening, if we all liked the same thing, we’d have a very boring world!
One of the things I love about hyacinths–besides their fragrance–is the color. Take a look at this lovely purple variety blooming in a neighbor’s yard. I have no idea what cultivar it is but it doesn’t matter. What I especially love about it are the multiple colors in each little floret: very light lilac, almost white, near the edge of the petal, “just regular” purple over most of each petal and deep violet at the throat. It’s just glorious!
In this one, the stripe of saturated deep pink ends in a bolder pink at the tip of each petal. And the deep stripe that runs down the center of each flower isn’t quite as pronounced as in the purple hyacinth–in some of the flowers, it’s almost broken. But the colors are still fabulous!
Tulips too are famous for containing numerous colors in a single flower bulb–but it’s not quite warm enough for tulip time here yet.
The next time you see some flower bulbs–even as cut flowers–take a closer look!
No, it doesn’t look like this in Connecticut yet. This image is from last May. But this is the dogwood that I am talking about. It is dripping sap puddles onto our driveway.
I have recalled seeing such a thing in the past, but not quite as pronounced as this year. Perhaps that’s because–for a change–it has been very dry so the puddles have a chance to get large before rain or snow wash them away. This is a tiny, fresh puddle.
This is the sort of thing that I am talking about. These dark spots are the dried sap puddles.
And here’s the actual sap dripping from the tree. It’s rather odd.
I am used to maples making a mess. But not my dogwood!
Those of you who live in warmer climates may wonder what on earth the fuss is about. Why am I taking pictures of flower buds on a culinary bay plant and posting about them?
So you can see the location of this plant: on an enclosed, glassed in porch, not heated, but getting no sun because it’s on the north side. (My sun loving herbs, like rosemary, and my tender conifers, are on the southern side of the porch. That’s how the poor bay wound up back here.)
I was never quite so shocked as I was today when I saw the flower buds on it. It’s not as if the plant hasn’t bloomed before. It has–that’s how I recognized the buds. But I didn’t expect it to bloom this early or in this location.
That’s one thing about plants. Every so often they still surprise me. It’s great!
Remember this from a couple of weeks ago? It was in a post about having plants in the right place, and ignoring advice about how difficult certain plants are to grow.
I said in that post that a plant will be very quick to let you know if it’s unhappy–I have a low light plant in one of my rooms upstairs that has burned patches on its leaves as I type this so I can attest to that. What happened? Did I move the plant? No. The sun moved in the sky and now the plant is getting too much light. Oopsie! It’s a danger this time of year before the leaves fill in on our deciduous trees. So I moved the plant. It told me what it wanted in no uncertain terms!
Here’s the update on the croton. It’s blooming. I hadn’t missed the flowers. I feel much better about that.
Its buddy, right next to it, is not blooming, however. And it’s not telling me why either. Hmmm.
Pruning just didn’t seem like the right word for what I wound up doing to these Japanese maples–and yet, because they still retain some of their leaves from the fall, all my hard work isn’t all that readily apparent. Suffice it to say that I took 5 cartloads of primarily dead wood out of this one–because after all, it is still a maple so by now, the sap is running. I couldn’t prune it as severely as I would have liked.
Here is my second maple, pre-pruning. It has a sort of “Cousin It” appearance, for those of you old enough to remember the original Addams Family. Still, I prefer that sort of look to the mangled look of the other, caused by the Spoiler’s hedge trimming. Don’t ask.
This was the easier of the two trees to prune. It really just needed the dead wood removed.
Again, I would have liked to cut a few more things, but not with as much sap running in the tree as there was. My timing was bad, but until this weekend we had ice on the ground.
Back to the first–and worst–tree. You can see how that even from inside and underneath the canopy it was really a mess. I did what I could. If I had been able to get to it earlier, I might have been able to get some of the live, crossing branches off the canopy. But with all the sap running, I didn’t want to do that. I may go back next year–if I can get in there when there’s no ice. Timing is always tricky.
But at least the deadwood is gone so I have achieved something.
And here’s the “finished” tree–or as much as I could finish. The dog is thrilled that she can see under it to the street!