18th April 2005 - Waiting for Spring
Spring didn’t hear me. I’m rather disappointed in it.
"...the whole plant seems to glow with an inner light..."
Even so, the plants continue to unfurl leaves and produce flower buds. One of the Pulsatilla vulgaris plants, divided into three and replanted in new places earlier in the year, has opened its flowers. I put it in one of the raised beds so that we could gaze at it more comfortably and the move has suited it. When the sun shines on the pale fur-like hairs that cover all but the inside of the flowers, the whole plant seems to glow with an inner light. After the flowers have finished, the leaves get larger and the flower stems lengthen, while the seed heads turn into feathery pom-poms. Well worth growing; once planted it tends to look after itself and you can be fairly confident of flowers year after year.
Pulsatilla vulgaris
Some plants become skeletal in winter to the extent that you almost stop seeing them. This is especially so with fine stemmed shrubs such as Spiraea japonica 'Goldflame'. You barely see it during the winter as the dark brown stems blend in with the ground beneath it, so what a glorious reminder it give of itself when it leafs out. I don’t much care for the pink flowers, but the leaf colour of this S. japonica is magnificent, like a mass of tiny flames. It looks extremely fine now that it’s a little taller and is starting to blend with the foliage of the Ceanothus dentatus var. floribundus which is growing behind it.
Spiraea japonica ‘Goldflame’ and C. dentatus var. floribundus
"What we need here is a sort of photo album get-up to keep plant labels in so they can be properly organised"
What we need here is a sort of photo album get-up to keep plant labels in so they can be properly organised, rather than thrown into an old shoe box as they are at the moment. A second shoe box would be a start because at least then we could have the beginnings of categorisation; one box for shrubs and trees and the other for annuals and perennials.
Maybe part of me doesn’t really want to be organised. Being untidy has certain pay-offs. One result of not putting plant labels away promptly, properly, or even at all, is that it can help you to remember the names. It goes like this: you agonise for three weeks, buy the plant and put it in the ground. Standing back to admire it, you notice that the label is still attached, remove it and put it in your pocket.
After finishing whatever jobs need doing, you go indoors and empty your pockets onto any available surface. This will usually be the kitchen sideboard or my desk upstairs. The pocket collection generally includes labels, bits of wire and string and a good bit of garden detritus. You really, really do mean to put the wire, string and labels away, honestly. Somehow, what with hand washing, tea, feeding the dog and whatnot, it doesn’t get done.
"After about ten days, the name sticks in your mind..."
Over the next week or so, every time you pass by the sideboard or desk you see the label/s, automatically read it/them but continue past because you’re busy or can’t be bothered to pick them up. After about ten days, the name sticks in your mind; after two to three weeks you can also spell it properly. After four weeks it may even find its way into the old shoe box.
When the RHS course was going, Gail was continually testing us on plant names and I was always relieved that I could bring a good number to mind without too much trouble. Someone asked me one day how I remembered them as she was having a hard time of it. Gail answered for me and said all sorts of kind things about handling plants every day and taking the time to look them up and find out about them, but she was only partly right. That’s a small part of it, I suppose, but the main aid to memory has been simple untidiness. You know it makes sense.
© Copyright Miranda Hodgson 2005