The magnolia flowers peppering the trees outside the Library Building tell the story a bit better than this wintry rain: spring has arrived, and it’s not going anywhere! Rhododendrons perk in the Azalea Garden, the Home Gardening Center looks a little more like its old self, and keen eyes can spot the nascent greens of young leaves on the tree branches. A more telling signal for the seasonal transition is the sound of the Fountain of Life’s familiar burble.
We’re going into this weekend carrying sunny thoughts piled with excitement, not least because we’re once again on board for two more Orchid Evenings. And while this Saturday’s gathering (as well as that of April 20!) is completely sold out, there are still tickets available for an impromptu cocktail during tonight’s added event! (That would be Friday, April 12.) So have a look at our ticket page and reserve yours while there’s still room, as they’re going fast.
For daytime visitors, of course, the spring scenery is an event in its own right. Just the other day I was out enjoying the thrill of the hunt, so to speak–walking the paths in search of season’s first flowers. The daffodils, I might add, are blowing up throughout our 250 acres. But it’s even more fun sussing out the less populous arrivals, like the first tulips cropping up in the Perennial Garden. For those who’d rather have a primer of what’s happening where, our What’s Beautiful Now post puts up a pretty thorough rundown.
Without aroma, Dutchman’s breeches flowers use contrasting yellow and white colors to attract pollinators, namely early-flying queen bumblebees.
In the early spring wildflower parade, Dutchman’s breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) follow closely on the heels of hepatica, blooming by mid-April. Dutchman’s breeches are one of the true spring ephemerals, plants that complete their entire above-ground life cycle within a period of only a few weeks and then disappear until the following spring. Of course, the underground portions live on, storing the carbohydrates manufactured by the leaves during the brief period before the trees have leafed out and shaded the forest floor. But spring ephemerals are not roadside plants.
To see most of our native ephemerals requires a pleasant walk in the woods. Ephemerals are plants that have evolved to live in the primeval conditions of Eastern North America—a land once covered by forest. They must take advantage of the short period of year when temperatures are warm enough and sunlight sufficient enough on the forest floor for the plant to accomplish three tasks: food production, reproduction, and storage of carbohydrates for the subsequent year’s growth.
It’s been a trying wait, I admit. But I seem to remember someone spouting off a line about “good things” in store for those with a little patience in hand. And after a drawn out season of waffling temperatures and flaky snowstorms–nothing at all like last year’s phoned-in winter–we’re finally seeing the rewards of all that waiting. It’s been a sleepy spring thus far, but the Garden’s now waking up to a fanfare of yellows, pinks, purples and whites!
Some spots, of course, are more alert than others. Most of the trees are still sleeping it off in the early going, but the snow-white and fragrant magnolia blossoms–thousands of them–are blooming en masse across the landscape. Narcissus crowd the lawns in dairy colors, and passersby won’t have any trouble finding hints of spring color along the Seasonal Walk, just to the side of the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where netted irises and dainty daffodils already perk up the atmosphere. Across the lawn in the Perennial Garden, orange pansies mingle with soft blue chionodoxa, spotted in between with drowsy snowdrops and a few electric tulips.
And the Ladies’ Border is no slouch, either; you’ll find the fan-favorite ‘Peggy Clarke’ plum blossom tree lighting up the branches with poodle skirt pinks; lime green ‘Honeyhill Joy’ hellebores at full attention; dense bunches of paper bush flowers; and the occasional crowd of bee-friendly Amur Adonis opening to the sky. Further back, look (or sniff) for the perfumed mahonia blossoms, right near the blushing ‘Spring’s Promise’ camellia flowers.
As a student in Botany at the University of Wisconsin in the early 1970s, I became aware of Aldo Leopold’s land ethic philosophy. In A Sand County Almanac he wrote:
“This sounds simple: do we not already sing our love for and obligation to the land of the free and the home of the brave? Yes, but just what and whom do we love? Certainly not the soil, which we are sending helter-skelter down river. Certainly not the waters, which we assume have no function except to turn turbines, float barges, and carry off sewage. Certainly not the plants, of which we exterminate whole communities without batting an eye. Certainly not the animals, of which we have already extirpated many of the largest and most beautiful species. A land ethic of course cannot prevent the alteration, management, and use of these ‘resources,’ but it does affirm their right to continued existence, and, at least in spots, their continued existence in a natural state. In short, a land ethic changes the role of Homo sapiens from conqueror of the land-community to plain member and citizen of it. It implies respect for his fellow-members, and also respect for the community as such.”
April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Heapticas that please you so
Are here again, and butterflies.
White, a former advertising executive, and founder of Showhouse magazine was looking for a new career path in 2009. “I came to a career night and thought floral design would suit me well. I’ve always loved arranging flowers, but was a total novice.”
Guess what? It’s spring! Finally, officially, it’s time to dig into the ground and enjoy the feeling of dirt under your fingernails. At the Ruth Rea Howell Family Garden this simple joy is available to everyone, including our littlest visitors.
I was over there just this afternoon and little kids were grabbing shovels and being handed seeds and seedlings to push into the now warm earth. Of course, this magic doesn’t happen overnight, so everyone who drops in is invited back in a few weeks’ time to harvest and enjoy the fruits of their labor. Manager of the Family Garden, Toby Adams, gives you all the details on this wonderful drop-in program for families.
It’s come in fits and starts this year. Snow falls one day, only to vanish in an instant through heat or a heavy rain. With all the yo-yoing we have experienced this winter, oscillating from warm to cold, the fluctuating temperatures have sent me and many of my colleagues home with lingering ailments as our bodies try to figure out what’s going on.
While walking through the Garden in these early days of spring, I notice that Mother Nature is equally confused. The persistent cold has slowed down the cycle of spring, leaving us somewhere between one and two weeks behind schedule in terms of spring bloom. Once the warm temperatures arrive in earnest, things will accelerate. What this means for now is that some of the early signs of spring–the ones that we usually like to see from our living room windows–are out and worth perusing.
The Cornelian cherries (Cornus mas) started flowering around the very end of March this year, whereas they usually bloom sometime in the middle of the month. As one of the many cheerful harbingers of spring, they’re a welcome sight; the 15-foot, multi-stemmed branching shrub is smothered with tiny umbels bursting with golden yellow, star-shaped flowers.
The magnolia flowers peppering the trees outside the Library Building tell the story a bit better than this wintry rain: spring has arrived, and it’s not going anywhere! Rhododendrons perk in the Azalea Garden, the Home Gardening Center looks a little more like its old self, and keen eyes can spot the nascent greens of young leaves on the tree branches. A more telling signal for the seasonal transition is the sound of the Fountain of Life’s familiar burble.
