We Are Not Alone!

Last week, my friend Kim, sent me an article about the appearance of Garden Gnomes as decorations at the 100th Anniversary of the Chelsea Flower Show in England.  The article, published in the New York Times, talked about how many British gardeners (I'm sure they consider themselves gardening purists at heart) were shocked and horrified that something as silly as a simple garden gnome could be allowed in such a sophisticated and historical event, while other Brits were glad to see a little whimsy and good humor finally make their debut into the stiff, upper-crust crowning glory of the British gardening world.  It's hard to believe that garden gnomes seem to have no place in the traditional English garden when the country itself is steeped with legend and lore about creatures such as these.  You know--like fairies and elves and leprechauns.

Gnome Ranger and his trusty frog.

Gnome Rider and his dependable turtle.

According to some, the gnome is often said to be the actual caretaker of any garden it inhabits, helping out with at least some of the smaller garden chores, once the lights of the house have gone out and everyone has gone to bed. I'm pretty sure we have all experienced a plant or two placed thoughtfully in the dirt without our assistance while more than a few weeds somehow got pulled when we were not looking and, quite frankly, I'm glad for the help mystical, whimsical or just plain practical.  Gnomes are said to enhance the harvest and help any and all creatures, great and small, that live in the garden.

An acorn-capped  happy little elfish gnome.

In any case, whether you believe or not, in the existence of gnomes, fairies and other mythical folk who mysteriously move around in the garden at night or in the day--things/movements that we see from the corner of our eye for a fleeting moment--we cannot deny the beauty of a garden and it's attraction of all things magical.  According to legend, gnomes are woodland creatures that represent the spirit of the earth.  They are said to bring good luck to the garden and the gardener who invites them in.

Next year, the Chelsea Flower Show will revert back to it's No-Gnome policy--at least no gnomes in the strict statuary sense, as we all know they are always out there, travelling through our neighborhood gardens and reaching far beyond our hometowns to points unknown, in search of the perfect poppy to sit and read under or count the birds and the butterflies flitting through the flowers--all very important tasks that fall into the realm of the cosmos, you know.

So, perhaps the powers that be of the Chelsea Flower Show should lighten up and welcome these decorative wee folk, in stone or terracotta, often painted in gay colors and sometimes not, especially since garden gnomes came to England way back in the middle of the 1800's from their homelands in Germany and Scandinavia, which means they have been gracing the English countryside and all over the world, including the good old U.S.A., long before the Chelsea Flower Show became the icon of "high-garden society."  Gnomes are here to stay and in plain sight or not, their presence is acknowledged and appreciated for their uniqueness, just as each bud, leaf, branch and flower are welcomed upon their arrival in the garden.

A gnome in the (garden) zone!

Spring Farm Tour--You Meet All Kinds!

Just finished up being one of the many venues on the Annual Loudoun County Spring Farm Tour.  We welcomed over one hundred and fifty visitors to Blooming Hill, this past weekend, in spite of the gloomy weather.  It just goes to prove that inquiring minds do want to know!  I've come to the conclusion that you meet all kinds of people at these types of public events, like the lady who announced as she walked past the sweetly fragrant Miss Kim Korean Lilac, in full bloom, that my backyard "Smelled just like a funeral parlor."  Of course, I know she meant it in only the nicest possible way.  

Then there was another lady I found meditating, with eyes closed, peacefully sitting crossed legged by the fountain and not wanting to be disturbed.  I know that because I offered her some lavender-blueberry ice cream and she glared at me in a sort of "Zen state."  And then there was the man who asked me, "What kind of a plant it was that he was looking at, in just about all of the garden beds?"  I calmly replied, "It's called lavender." Every last one of these visitors was an absolute delight to have as a guest here at Blooming Hill as they were polite and respectful and appreciated all of the beauty the gardens and flowers had to offer.

I served up countless samples of blueberry-lavender ice cream and people enjoyed lavender sugar cookies, lavender frosted cupcake truffles and all natural lavender soda.  It was a glorious weekend filled with welcoming new friends to Blooming Hill and trading gardening war stories, weather observations and, of course, adventures in growing lavender.

One of the most popular attractions on the property, to my surprise, was the lone Ponderosa lemon hanging from the small tree placed on the patio.  Just about everyone who passed it with a camera in hand, stopped and not only took a picture of it, but also had someone take their picture with it--it's the little things in life, you know.

Thankfully, the peonies made their spring debut, too, since the lavender isn't quite in season, just yet. It seemed that one pink variety, in particular caught everyone's eye.  It is an heirloom variety with a heavy sweet scent and a rich pink color.   Aside from that, I think our Farm Tour visitors were just out to enjoy the spring day and we were fortunate enough to be able to share it with them, right here at Blooming Hill.

Welcome, Fair Stranger

May is certainly a month to relish as the freshest shades of green surround a rainbow of pastel blossoms opening up and welcoming spring as I walk, each morning, along the country roads here in Western Loudoun County.  While the cherry blossoms have all but gone away and the dogwood trees begin to leaf out, even the lilacs are giving way to the blooms of warmer weather, the gently bowed heads of wisteria flowers reflect calm and balance to a world that seems to be hurrying along.  Front yards and roadsides are graced with the white, purple and pink chandelier earring-like blossoms decorating these elegant vines that, over time, can grow into frilly bushes and trees spilling over with lacy petals.

These enchanting blooms dangle effortlessly on seemingly never ending and always twisting vines.  They embody warmth and welcome and playfulness and in the language of flowers, wisteria symbolizes the beginning and beauty of spring--Welcome fair stranger!  Wisteria vines braid themselves up the sides of trees as well as attach to any willing trellis, pole or side of house in dramatic fashion and freely share their lovely fragrance with every passerby.

Wisteria is a genus of flowering plants in the pea family (Fabaceae).   This woody climbing vine is  native not only to the Eastern United States, but also China, Korea and Japan and quite often depicted in Oriental art.  In Feng Shui, blue and purple wisteria flowers represent balance and calmness by creating harmony in mind, body and spirit.  So, even though their delicate beauty makes them appear fragile, they are a resilient flower that stands up against the unpredictable forces of springtime weather.

I am fortunate to have a pink wisteria growing on an arbor in the front of my home.  It has taken its own sweet time, over the years, to mature and bloom as it would stubbornly turn green without rewarding me with any flowers, almost as if to say, "Wait, the best is yet to come. Just wait."  This type of coy behavior can be very common as it is often that a wisteria can take years to produce its first blooms. In this case, it took over 12 years!   However, seeing the soft chains of pink petals poking and then cascading through tangle of leaves has now made waiting, all of those years, worth it as this fair flower, a herald of spring, announces its presence.

Pieces of a Rainy April Morning

The Herb garden, greening up.

The cafe cutting garden will be ready for tables very soon.

Planting seeds between the existing rows of salad greens.

I spent the better part of this morning taking advantage of the heavy mist that has been falling since yesterday and worked in the gardens.  I potted up small lavender plants that are ready for sale, planted seeds in between the rows of green lettuce and colorful radicchio in the salad portion of the parterre garden, added plants to the cafe cutting garden, lingered in the herb garden and pulled weeds out of the nice, soft dirt in every garden.  By lunchtime, I was feeling fairly damp myself, with hair plastered to my head, clothes splattered with mud and soggy, wet feet.  It was a glorious morning to be outside and enjoy the weather...Truly!...if you are a gardener.

The pink dogwood tree looks like a Mother's Day corsage.

I could just live in these branches filled with pink!

I glanced at the pink dogwood, in full bloom and shining brightly in the gloom of the drizzle.  It reminded me of a beacon in the night welcoming sailors, coming home from sea duty, as they look toward their port for familiar lights to greet them after many months away.   It looked happy, all tangled up in pink blossoms and relishing the raindrops!

Bittersweet beauty, blooming heart.

I really like the color pink!

Another piece of this rainy April morning was the bleeding heart bending and drooping gracefully, catching raindrops and hiding fairies under it's fanned-out and pointed leaves.  The rain, lending these flowers a certain sleepy peacefulness, created an almost bittersweet aura about them.  Bleeding heart owns a quality of humility that many pretty flowers simply do not possess.  Yet, in the language of flowers the bleeding heart represents elegance and fidelity.

Lavender lilacs - truly lovely!

Lilacs budding out

The deep purple and very tight buds of a Miss Kim lilac bush.

And then, within the the deepening green of the pine trees, I spied from the corner of my eye, puffs of lavender nestled in the arms of heart-shaped leaves--lilac blossoms beginning to unfold on this rainy morning and scenting the air with their sweet fragrance.  Lilacs were my mother's favorite flower and, if you grew up in the Midwest, like I did, you would know why.  Lilacs love the cold, harsh winters and cold springs of that area, more so than they do here in the mid-Atlantic, making them a spectacular flower--big and fluffy and showy in their lavender, pink or white splendor.  They can be very lovely here as well, although they never seem to display quite the panache as I remember them when I was a little girl in the suburbs of Chicago.  Perhaps because lilacs are one of the first blossoms of spring in the Midwest making them part of garden royalty there.

In any case, the lilac bushes in my yard are lavender conveying the first flutterings of  new found love--love of rain and spring and flowers galore.  This springtime morning was certainly glorious and, because of the much needed rain, nothing could dampen my spirits.

Far From the Maddening Crowd

The crowds at the Flower and Garden Festival this past Saturday.

That's me gearing up in my booth for the crowds early Saturday morning.

The 18th Century English poet and author, Mary Howitt, put it so aptly when it comes to describing spring, even in this up and down weather, here in Northern Virginia, when she wrote, "Buttercups and daisies, oh, the pretty flowers; coming ere the Spring-time, to tell of sunny hours." After a busy and blustery weekend spent at the Leesburg Flower and Garden Festival, her poem made me want to stop rushing through my days filled with weeding, planting, housework and store work, and take in the serene beauty that is unfolding all around me even as the cool days and chilly nights of the past week can't seem to stop the bursting forth of spring.  In the words of Martha Stewart, "It's a good thing!"

Tulips!

Virginia Bluebells!

One of the venues on the Waterford House and Garden Tour.

Yesterday, my friend, Linda, and I spent the better part of the day walking through the gardens of Waterford, Virginia as part of the 80th Annual Historic Virginia Garden Week.  I don't get to Waterford very much except for in the fall when they have a large craft fair that draws visitors from all over to enjoy the historic homes and the autumn  leaves. However, I do believe this quiet village is even prettier in the spring when the cherry blossoms, dogwoods, forsythia, wisteria, tulips and irises come to life.  And, while the homes are beautiful by themselves, they are almost no competition for the spring blossoms and the greening landscape.

An old pump house.

A garden trellis made out of tree branches

The day was a chance for me to take a step back and enjoy the simple yet elegant and colorful vignettes highlighted by sun and springtime in a hamlet reminiscent of colonial days when life could certainly be harsh, but not on this day.  This day was all about the peace and beauty Mother Nature offers up for us to enjoy, coupled with good old American garden ingenuity.

More tulips!

One of the many stairways to heaven???

Early spring herb garden.

Simple steps lined with flowers leading to patches of perfectly coiffed green carpets under blue skies helped create welcoming outdoor rooms and tidy parterres filled with herbs and edibles.  And the tulips--ohhhh, the tulips were the reigning queens in gardens and borders that lined the streets as we walked along and took in the sites.

Sheep in repose, enjoying the weather.

Creeping phlox spilling over a rock wall and surrounding a dogwood tree in bloom.

Candy-tufted stone steps.

It was a wonderful day spent touring and savoring the gifts of nature, cared for by Waterford's fortunate residents, both past and present, whose love of history and gardening is so evident in this colonial-style village.

Redbud in full bloom

Hellebore's bowing their heads in the sun.

Stone paths through a parterre.

April Showers Bring May Flowers!

The Yoshino Cherry Tree in full bloom, swaying in the rain.

Violas and primulas, jumbled together and loving the rain.

Hiding amid the tulip greenery.

The yard literally turned green, Friday morning, as a glorious half inch of rain fell on Blooming Hill after enduring a very hot and dry spell, this past week, which, coincidentally, goes along with the legendary homage to precipitation in the short and sweet poem of "April flowers bring May Flowers!"   You could just see the grass, bushes and trees lapping up the wetness and relishing the early spring sweetness as raindrops danced in the fountains. And, for once, no hard driving wind came along to spoil the party--just steady, lovely rain.

Winter reds turning to spring greens.

"Buttercup" star magnolia blossoms collecting raindrops.

Tulips and hyacinths unfolding.

This famous saying, April showers bring May flowers, came about way back in 1557 when a merry and wise old English chap by the name of Thomas Tusser compiled a collection of writings titled "A Hundred Good Points of Husbandry" as in thrifty farming techniques.  In terms of the month of April, he wrote a short, two line poem that actually went like this: "Sweet April showers, do bring May flowers" explaining that this month brings about big 
changes in the seasons from snows to rains to growing things. Since April has already taken us on a roller coaster ride from temperatures in the 30's and 40's and freezing rain, to temps in the low 90's with blazing sun, to rainy days and high humidity and back into the 40's, it certainly seems that Thomas Tusser knew what he was talking about.