Today is the final day of Cathy’s garden meme. I’ve enjoyed revisiting many of my garden favorites, even if I only managed three out of seven days.
A tip of the hat to the other gardeners who shared photos and checked in all week, and to Cathy for inviting us to share.
As we head toward the winter solstice, we can look back and forward, while enjoying the in between. It’s time for spring and summer gardens to rest, so that they can burst forth with color, energy, and strength the following year. I realized today that most of my spring garden favorites have an intoxicating scent. I’ve gradually introduced seven of the ten most fragrant flowers.
Now close your eyes and imagine the warming earth, bulbs breaking ground, and finally flowers releasing that wonderful scent. Floral scents attract birds, bees, bats, and other pollinators, each fragrance drawing the right crowd. Who’s to say that we don’t play a part as well as we breathe in that aromatic scent, breathing out a bit of energy as we inhale, exhale, inhale, and repeat.
Spring’s predictable garden bounty makes my heart sing. It’s a great time to plunk some flowers in a vase and a chance to use my pink ceramic chick.
Sweet peas are slowly emerging in several shades of purple. Conversely, the freesias are winding down, but several white varieties remain in bloom. I added freesias to my vase with cuttings from our Pittosporum tree. The greens are shiny this time of year, with subtle, waxy citrus-scented flowers which generate an intoxicating scent. I hope the arrangement holds up for Easter, but if not, I’ll find more for the table’s centerpiece.
If you enjoy arranging flowers from your garden, Please consider joining us for the occasional IAVOM (In a Vase on Monday). You can reach Cathy at the link below.
Thank you to “the Cathys” for inspiring this Monday series. You can visit Cathy at Rambling in The Garden at this link to see several stunning vases worldwide. Perhaps you would like to share one of your own.
Our summer solstice is still three weeks away, but all the signs of the season have arrived. When we left for Vancouver in mid-May, the California poppies in the front garden were ending the season as the nigella bloomed.
I had hoped the poppies might linger, as the orange and purple look pretty together. Flowers have their own time and place, so, of course, nature took its course. It’s one of the joys of gardening.
Nigella
I laughed when one of the seed pods split open as I worked along the path, spewing tiny seeds in my direction, which bounced off my cheek. The seeds could almost be mistaken for course black pepper. I swept them into the garden and will enjoy what takes hold next season.
With the first San Jose heat wave, the sweet peas cry uncle and begin to set seed. I leave the plants for a few weeks to allow the seeds to drop. This past week, I removed the plants, gathering seeds to offer to friends while leaving an equal amount to self-seed in the fall.
As I removed the sweet peas from the curb garden, I uncovered sturdy gladioli. The sweet peas created a dense cover, but the gladiolus thrived and were none the worse for it. Today, we planted two tomato plants, four sunflowers, and some strawberry starters. The existing ground cover has room to spread its delicate leaves, with lovely purple flowers to contrast the yellows, pinks, and, of course, green.
Over the long weekend, Mike put up the shade sails in the front and back while I uncovered the garden swing, tables, and the like. With virtually no rain until October, we can leave things out.
Nasturtiums spread throughout the back garden, traveling up, over, and around various obstacles, spreading stunning shades of orange, yellow, and, occasionally, red. They took over one of the garden paths while we were away, and how I wish I had a photo of our cat’s expression when he couldn’t pass.
My garden has found its rhythm these past few years as natives are more established, and annual seeds, bulbs, and rhizomes reliably return, filling the garden with spring’s abundant gifts. Back-to-back seasons of welcome rain certainly helped create healthy roots.
We’re expecting temperatures around 90F (32C) this week, so my time in the garden is limited. I’m glad to have accomplished so much in the last two weeks with Mike’s help, and every day, I celebrate this lovely patch of earth.
My garden is a magical place where fairies roam, and flowers grow.
Daily visitors include marauding squirrels, delicate hummingbirds, mourning doves, and songbirds with handsome yellow chests singing their hearts out in search of a mate.
It provides a refuge for spiders and mantis, which in turn keep the less beneficial bugs at bay. Fence lizards also have a place.
When I gather a spade of dirt and unearth a worm, I apologize and return it to the soil. Some of the hardest workers are unseen and unheard but equally deserving of our respect.
Baby Carrots Fresh from the Earth
Bees are welcome and encouraged with plentiful pollen to gather for their queen. Paper wasps live under the eaves, an equally beneficial guest in the garden’s echo system. They’re not aggressive like yellow jackets, but they are easily mistaken for them. I was pleased to learn the difference.
Paper wasps
Over the years, small packets of seeds have morphed into returning gems. Sweat peas are the garden darlings, with soft, fragrant petals ranging from pale pinks to rich purples and reds. They elicit comments from passersby, generating a feeling of nostalgia.
Nasturtium, purchased as a few bedding plants years ago, cast about the garden with brilliant, showy orange flowers and broad, flat leaves that remind me of paper fans.
California poppies spread across the walkway this year, with several taking up residence around the curb garden and along the drive. They, too, were first scattered from a packet of seeds.
Two seasons of welcome rain have filled reservoirs and water tanks while affording gardeners a reprieve from regular watering.
The garden continues to evolve, moving from the manicured lawn and roses we inherited when we bought this house to a garden filled with native and drought-tolerant plants, three mature trees, and a deck lined with succulents instead of thirsty annuals. The slider featur below shows the back garden in 1996 and 2024.
I’m grateful for the sun and the wind, the rain when it falls, and this lovely patch of earth outside my door.
I filled my Beatrix Potter teacup with an assortment of sweet peas, evoking memories of an earlier time. My friend Carrielin bought this cup for me over forty years ago. I’m sure we’ve consumed gallons of tea over companionable talks. Friendships that endure are a gift; when I use this cup, it reminds me of her.
The cup also evokes memories of my time in the Lake District of Northern England. Ms. Potter donated almost all her property to the National Trust. Her forethought preserved much of the land that now constitutes the Lake District National Park. It’s pristine.
Sweet peas also evoke a sense of nostalgia, so they were the perfect choice for today’s vase. I tucked in a few green sprigs of lavender, and as a nod to the cat illustration on the cup, I added a small cutting of nepeta (catnip).
Thank you to “the Cathys” for inspiring this Monday series. It’s fun to think about what’s available in the garden and share it with others.
San Jose gardens get by with about 15 inches of rain a year. During the drought years, we had half of that or less. So this year’s rain has been a gift to South Bay gardens, not only delaying the time when we would typically begin a watering routine but adorning our gardens with more blooms, taller plants, and, yes, lots of weeds.
Nasturtium along the walkway, with salvia and geraniums filling the space in between
My nepeta (cat mint) self-seeded throughout the garden to the sensory delight of our felines. The original plant is twice as tall this year, hiding those sneaky weeds below. They have met their match!
Love-in-a-mist, California Poppy, Geranium, Morning Glory border our neighbor’s lawn
California poppies spread throughout the garden, showing up in pots, along the curb garden, and elsewhere to my delight. The profusion of color is uplifting. I’ve been relocating the self-seeded sweet peas to the other side of the sidewalk so that they don’t overtake the perennials I’m trying to grow. First, I pulled out small volunteers or transplanted them, and then I bought another packet of seeds to hedge my bets during the transition. It worked partly due to the rain, and now the perennials are getting a foothold with the space and an extra helping of rain.
Sweet PeasPoppies going to seedRich colors fill the gardenLavender and Sage in the back, poppies in the foregroundPoppies and sweet peas commingle
I cut back the stems of the Freesia last week, leaving the leaves to dry out before cutting them back to the ground. Rapidly taking their place are gladiola and love-in-a-mist. Last October, Mike dug out several gladiola bulbs, and I replanted them together in the curb garden to maximize the effect. They’re just starting to come up as the poppies go to seed.
Love-in-a-mist about to bloom
Over the years, people have asked if my garden is a lot of work. While it can be hard on my aging hips and lower back, I don’t think of it as work so much as a pursuit. I’ve had the luxury this season to spend two or three hours a day outdoors, deadheading, weeding, and pruning as I observe all the gifts of nature.
The garden attracts lizards, birds, squirrels, butterflies, and praying mantis. The scents of spring are intoxicating, and the refreshing cool greens soothe me.
A California lizard. They devour lots of bugsPotted succulents on the deck
Rain-filled water tanks permitted us to plant guilt-free strawberries and tomatoes, and for the first time in many years, I planted five coleuses in a repurposed pot once used in the back garden.
Raised bed planted with tomatoes and strawberriesRaised bed, alternate view
Annuals are heavy water users, so I’ve limited myself to one box and a shade-loving spot at that. I’ll share photos after I clean up the pot. Otherwise, I will continue to plant and tend to native and drought-tolerant plants, knowing that this year’s rain is a gift without any promises for the future.
I’m joining Cathy, who blogs at Words and Herbs for her Week of Flowers, 2021. Bloggers are sharing a bit of color/colour to brighten our days.
White isn’t technically a color, but a shade. When I studied theater lighting back in the day, I learned that white light comprises all colors on the spectrum. Conversely, if you throw together all pigments on a piece of paper, you get black. Color or not, white is beautiful in the garden. White is crisp and reflective, providing a nice contrast to the shades of green around it.
Camellia
This gorgeous Camellia grows along the side of the house in our front garden. They are as messy as they are beautiful. They flower and quickly dump petals daily. I don’t mind. I think they’re spectacular, and who wants a well-behaved garden anyway? I like a little drama.
On the subject of drama, these freesias give the Camellia a run for their money. They refuse to remain in one place, preferring to populate throughout the garden. They’re not concerned that a certain gardener might trip over them when they grow between narrow openings in the walkway. They sure are cheering, though, with their waxy petals and brilliant yellow centers.
White to pink sweet pea
Once a year, magical sweet peas dominate the garden. They grow in various colors, and in this beautiful shade of white. The only thing surpassing their beauty is their intoxicating scent. You can’t help but linger in their presence, marveling at nature’s extraordinary gifts.
I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bit obsessed with sweet peas. I look forward to them every year. These unassuming flowers have the ability to uplift. They’re sweetly scented and delicate, cast in soft colors and pale hues.
Here’s what the sweet peas looked like three weeks.
March 27, 2021
This is what they look like today. I’ve added stakes for climbing, just visible in this photo. In the past I’ve used a portable folding fence, but I prefer the look of these stakes. The stakes are designed for tomatoes, so they’re nice and sturdy.
April 19, 2021April 19, 2021
I let the sweet peas go to seed every summer. They replant themselves in the fall, impervious to the cooler weather or the ocassional frost. They start flowering in March and fill the garden through May. Our summer heat is no match for these shade-loving sensations, so I enjoy them while I can.
Because they self-seed, I’m intrigued that the color variations don’t change. The flowers come back, year over year, in white, lavender, fuchsia, purple, and soft pink. As the last of the freesias fade, the scent of sweet peas takes over. I’ve cut a few of the flowers here and there, but I’ll soon have enough to start cutting small bouquets. It’s such an enjoyable task filling a small jar with wisps of green and scented sweet peas. I look forward to it every year.
2015: This watering can vase is 27 years old
I didn’t expect to see the sweet peas growing in the gravel this year as they’ve done in the past. Last summer we hired a handyman to rebuild the deteriorating planter box and at the same time replace the weed cloth under the gravel. The sweet peas are back, rooted in the small amount of soil deposited by the wind.
The first of the sweet peas came up this week. The soft petals and gentle scent fill me with a sense of nostalgia.
Sweet peas are easy to grow. This vine is growing on top of weed cloth and pea gravel
My friend Kelly got me hooked on sweet peas (the flowering vine variety) a few years ago after a chat on our blogs. Up until then, I had grown the vegetable sweet peas, but not the flowering vine. I didn’t know what I was missing?
The petals remind me of butterfly wings
I planted the seeds late that first year, with a so-so crop. The seeds need to go into the ground early. The following year they came up on their own, and I’ve had a beautiful, self-seeded crop ever since.
The white flowers are a soft yellow before they emerge
The vines grow close to the sidewalk on both sides, ensuring a sweetly scented stroll past my house.
Sweet peas emerging on both sides of the sidewalk
I enjoy making small bouquets, mixing in some lush fern cuttings, and whatever else is in bloom at the time. I save empty jars throughout the year so that I have plenty to give away.
It will be a few more weeks before they take off, but we planted several stakes over the weekend so they can happily climb skyward.
Sweet peas and California poppies growing near the curb
The sweet peas are out, but the cornflower will remain for awhile
Life is full.
Since my last post we’ve celebrated three family birthdays, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, and my oldest son’s graduation from college. My youngest son came home from his first year away at college and my oldest son moved home mid-June. Somewhere in there we took a two-day getaway to Las Vegas after Mike finished a big work project. Next week I leave for a long-anticipated trip to British Columbia and Alberta. I’ll be traveling with my friend Kelly, a dear friend whom I met through blogging nearly eight years ago. I am really looking forward to this trip.
Through it all though, my garden continues to sow content.
We had some brutally hot days in the low 100’s (104 F or 40 C), but it has settled down into cooler temps. During the heat wave I arrived home to wilting hydrangeas and burnt ground cover. The flowers recovered but the ground cover is done till the rains return.
Pink hydrangea looking refreshed
Burnt ground cover after the heatwave
Burnt succulent during the triple digit heatwave
Pink hydrangea dominating the corner
On the subject of rain, we had the loveliest, late-season rain in May, bringing about larger and taller flowers, fuller blooms and a short-term delay in the unbearable heat. It was such a gift.
(name escapes me) purple flower
Miniature yellow roses, a long-ago gift from a friend
Kangaroo paw amid grasses, salvia and the last of the sweet peas
pin-cushion flowers
This gladiola grew twice as tall as last year
Gladiola closeup
I spent some early mornings this week pulling out the spent Nigella, also known as Love-in-a-mist and the sweet peas. I let both of them go to seed, reaping the benefits of a self seeded garden each spring. The cornflowers are the last of the self-seeded spring flowers. The bees are still pollinating the remaining blooms while the birds swoop in for the seeds.
Bee pollinating nigella bloom
Cornflower seeds equal happy birds
The darkest of the cornflowers
Sweet peas in rich purples, magenta and lavender
Sweet peas grow amid the perennials
Assorted sweet peas return year after year
I’ve been musing to myself that some of my garden favorites are the ones that return year after year with no effort on my part. They attract birds, bees and admiring neighbors. I get several month’s worth of small garden bouquets, and enjoy sharing the bounty with others.
Now that summer is here, our plums are ripening and the four o’clocks are about to bloom.
My miniature Hobbit garden, planted a year ago in celebration of my New Zealand friends and hosts is also robust.
Miniature succulents filling in
Tiny flower lights from Laura
A tiny violet self-seeded near the Hobbit door
Table and chairs
My miniature Hobbit garden in May, 2018
I’ve added a tiny rusted table and a few flower “lights”, a gift from my friend Laura. I noticed this week that a tiny violet has self-seeded near the Hobbit door. We’ll see how it grows.
The tomatoes are looking promising this year!
Mouse next to the Earthbox tomatoes
Three stages of ripeness
Tomatoes growing skyward
Still grayish green with the spent flowers attached
Red mulch keeps the soil warm and weed-free
Over the years people ask “is your garden a lot of work?” and the answer is always the same. Yes, it can be back-aching work, bending and lifting, pruning and pulling weeds, especially during the hot days of summer. But the work is joyful. It’s not so much the ends but the means. I love working in the dirt, discovering new things, seeing what works and learning from failures. Working closely with nature is uplifting. I marvel at the different shapes and sizes of the bees. I’m honored when a hummingbird comes close, inquisitive and open. I hear the rustle of the lizards and hope the cats will let them be. I laugh at myself when I’m startled by a spider, but I’ve learned to manage that fear while respecting the gifts they bring to the garden. A few ladybugs came for a visit last month and polished off the invading aphids. These are some of my favorite examples of nature at her finest.
I get dirt under my fingernails and sometimes in my teeth. Bruised knees and a sore neck mean I’ve stayed out too long. It takes me a lot longer to get up from the ground, and the pain in my hips reminds me of my advancing age. It’s all worth it for that time in the garden where I find a real connection to this earth.
Gardening Nirvana 