sweet alyssum

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A Garden Dressed in White

“The first of all single colors is white … We shall set down white for the representative of light, without which no color can be seen; yellow for the earth; green for water; blue for air; red for fire; and black for total darkness.” — Leonardo Da Vinci

When I studied color theory, it surprised me to learn that white pigment is the absence of color whereas in light, white is the combination of all color. Scientifically speaking, white isn’t a color at all, but as ‘non-colors’ go it’s loaded with symbolism and meaning.

I also learned today that white or pale flowers are more strongly scented than their darker counterparts. Who knew!

Come join me for a walk through my mid-autumn garden. The ‘color’ of the day, isn’t a color at all.

flowering basil

Flowering basil

The rest of the vegetable garden went to sleep in October, but this pretty plant continues to thrive.

bacopa

Bacopa: This survived the summer heat and very little water

I gave this potted Bacopa very little water this summer. Now that it’s cooler and we’ve had a bit of rain, the plant revived.

camellia

Camellia along the back fence

This gorgeous, Camellia is one of my favorite splashes of white this time of year.

cosmos

A fading Cosmo, one of the lasts flowers in the curb garden

This Cosmo looks tired, but it is November. She’s been pumping out blooms for some time.

hydrangea

Hydrangea, grateful for some rain

Again, one of the last blooms on this plant.

sweet alyssum and begonia

Sweet Alyssum and Begonias on the patio

There are a few begonias in the back of this pot, but the summer belonged to my Sweet Alyssum. As it goes to sleep, a pretty white shower drifts below.

amemone

The last of the Anemone. They’ve been flowering since August

Saying Goodbye to King Tut

My sister’s beloved kitty died yesterday. He’s been a wonderful companion to her and will be sorely missed. He had the whitest coat, emerald-green eyes and the cutest little ears. He also had a sweet personality to match. Farewell KT.

KT Eating Kitty Greens

KT Eating Kitty Greens

Additional Reading:

Sensational Color: All about the color white.

Wikipedia: White

Color Matters: Basic Color Theory

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Blended Edges

Early spring is all about growth. Seeds sprout, bulbs emerge, and branches fill with leaves. It’s an exciting time.

By mid-season, everyone is branching out.  Creepers move across the ground at a steady pace with flowers popping up along the way.  Plants seem to fluff themselves up, growing taller and fuller daily.  Like guests at a party, individual plants seek the company of others.  Once distinct, they’re all blending at the edges.  It’s one of my favorites times in the garden.

hydrangea and bellflowers

Hydrangea and Bellflowers

Campanula, commonly known as Bellflower, hug the patio. Hydrangeas branch out just above.

alyssum and baby tears

Alyssum and baby tears

Sweet Alyssum joins the party, merging with baby tears growing along the path.

flax, anenome, alyssum, begonia

New Zealand Flax mixes with flowers

New Zealand Flax shades the Anemone which will be covered in white flowers by August. On the subject of white flowers, the Alyssum smells like honey as it takes over the pot. A begonia came back from the frost last year, now shadowing the tiny bulbs below.

lindy and bellflowers

Daphne and Bell-flowers

It’s a fun time to explore the garden, too. Here Lindy emerges from behind the wheelbarrow, her green eyes blending with the Daphne and Campanula. I think they’re all sweet.

mouse and geraniums

Mighty Mouse is the garden exception. He’s not the blended edges type. Bright white fur and his stand-out personality defy convention. It’s only fitting that he’s photographed here with a bright orange geranium, craning his neck to see the hummingbird, above.

Growing up with bright red hair and freckles, I had a hard time ‘blending edges’ as well. It took some growing up to get comfortable with my ‘center.’  This wonderful cat and my blended garden are happy metaphors for healthy growth in life.

Do you like to blend at the edges or stand out in the crowd?

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Sweet Alyssum: Growing a Namesake

Alys Milner (Lancaster)

Alys Milner (Lancaster)

Sweet alyssum is easy to grow.  True to its name, it has a light honey-scent, with tiny white flowers that grow close to the ground.It’s intoxicating.

Alyssum is an annual, starting small, then spreading a foot in diameter by late summer. When I want it to grow in a certain spot, I’ll buy a six-cell pack. It easily self-seeds, so I often scatter the spent flowers around the garden in the fall, then enjoy what comes up and where the following year.

As I was plucking weeds in the side yard this week, I noticed at least two dozen alyssum seedlings. I’m sure I pulled out one or two in my zeal to rid the dirt of pesky weeds before I realized what they were. I made a hasty retreat.

My garden is not complete without Sweet alyssum and here’s why:

  • I’m named after my father’s sister, Alys, a fashion mannequin in the 1920s.
  • My father was an English horticulturist.
  • My former boss called me ‘Sweet Alys’

What better flower to honor my father and aunt than ‘Sweet alyssum.’

alyssum

Sweet Alyssum

What’s in a name:

  • The spelling of Alys dates back to the 1600s. In Welsh the name means ‘of the nobility.’
  • Sweet Alyssum (Lobularia maritima) originated in Greece.
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Freaky Friday: The Garden’s Dark Underbelly

It’s not all Sweet Alyssum and roses.  Every garden has a dark side. I’m sure it’s no accident that the spooky celebrations of Halloween coincide with the decay of fall.

Use your imagination and come with me as we travel the more sinister side of the garden.

bat wings

“Bat Wings”…or decaying leaf?

Spider in the gravel…look closely.

Rats Gone Bad

hollowed orange

Hallowed orange or hollow orange? You decide.

Tree RAt

Tree Rat or Field Mouse? Helping himself to an orange.

Not What They Seem

choking vine

The Choking Vine? Snaking and staking the trellis.

mottled leaf

Urban Decay

shrunken head

Shrunken Head?

stink bug

I’m a Stink bug. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Cavernous Lair

Something Wicked This way Comes

Something Wicked This Way Comes: Black Widow Haven

Halloween Countdown

Cat on Pumpkin

It’s The Great Pumpkin, Lindy-Lu!

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And Then There Were Thrips

It’s been a month of pests for Gardening Nirvana as we’ve worked our way through aphids, scale and now thrips. Three different plants, three different pests, all living within a few feet of each other.

Foreground (emerging sunflowers); under window (Viburnum tinus), right of photo (scale-infected Magnolia)

Thrips now reside on the lower leaves of the Viburnum tinus immediately outside of our home office window.  It took us two summers to figure out what that…uh…pungent smell was.  We knew it was organic in nature, but it was so odoriferous, we assumed a small animal had died under the house or deck.  The smell eventually went away, the plants looked fine and we didn’t give it another thought.

Spring rolled around again, then summer and…that smell!  Aren’t you glad you are only reading about it?  The damage seemed to be happening at the base of the shrubs and along the back, making me wonder if it was lack of air circulation.  My husband’s sleuthing and a magnifying glass revealed that yes, we had a third infestation on our hands: thrips.

Plant Damage

Plant Damage

Thrips

Thrips

Through the wonder of the Internet and our postal service, a shipment of lacewing eggs, nested in bran, is headed for our front door.  When the tiny larvae emerge they feast on the thrips.  Adults need nectar and pollen to survive, so it’s important to have insectary plants in your garden to support the adult population.  The exciting news is that my sunflowers will flower within the next week or so, providing pollen to the emerging adults.  They like Cosmos and Sweet Alyssum, too, also growing our the garden.

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