Out behind the house, the woodland lasses are veiling themselves, preparing for the heavy-handed Summer sun. Palest green, most delicate, flutters as a backdrop for the redbuds, which do not bloom red, after all, but rather a sort of lavender-pink. The color is almost an illusion, acting for all the world like a shy lavender cloud, ducking behind the larger trees when you look straight at it, unsure of its finery.
Bolder are the dogwoods. Striking white pronounces their place in the wood, the occasional pink sport equally fearless in presenting itself for admiration. The shout for attention, vying as they do with the ornamental trees around the house.
The bright yellow forsythia has been waving his kraken-y arms at us for weeks, and doesn't look to be giving in soon. Now he has a bit of green on him, a foil for those happy blossoms.
One of my Dwarf Iris is blooming, the one called Alpine Lake. Here is a picture from last year (it's too wet to go take one right now):
I bought most of them for their names - someone has had fun walking along the iris beds and thinking of striking labels, haven't they? The dwarf iris are around my now defunct (banned because of the drought) fountain - Bedford Lilac and Alpine Lake. The Bearded iris are out by the mailbox, all jumble into one bed (which, I am told, is a no-no. Oops. I have to separate them soon, anyway, so perhaps I'll give them their own places this fall). Anvil of Darkness. Badlands. Alaskan Seas. Before the Storm. Blue Crusader. Metolious Blues. Hello Darkness. Stellar Lights. San Juan Silver (which really is so white it looks like silver). Tempting Fate. Fatal Attraction. Midnight Revelry. Don't they sound yummy? They've come back for three years, now, and I am always delighted to see the greenery poking its spiky way skyward - I have such a poor record with gardens and flowers that I am never certain anything I plant will survive.
It's best if I plant trees, vines, and bulbs, things that like me to put their feet in the earth and then walk away.
I believe that at least some of the morning glories will be back, too. Oh, the drought has been hard on the lovelies - the pale blue ones are gone for good, I fear, except for the few photographs I have of them (my photo avatar thingy on Blogger is a detail of one of them). I can't seem to find seeds anywhere, and I got them as part of a mix called "Glacier Moon" that isn't on the market any more. It had the pale blue and the medium blue in it, but the pale ones didn't come back as readily. Somehow, some purple velvet glories have found their way to our trellis, and they do just fine. I never know what's what until they bloom!
This year, I would like to put in some grape hyacinth around the mailbox - I must see if they go in during the Spring or the Fall. Mum has some at her house, and they are striking.
I need to mulch before long. All of this lovely rain, I want to keep some of it in the soil. I also want to put in some soaker hose, on the off chance the watering ban is lifted a bit. In the meantime, I am permitted to hand water plants, or water food gardens, but I usually hope for rain and leave it at that. If we don't regain our balance this year, though, I may have to take drastic measures to keep the iris and the glories going - they won't survive another year of scant water. I think it's time to invest in a rain-barrel watering system.
For now, though, my bit of Earth and I will revel in the blessed drops falling upon us and hope for a wet Spring, a kindly Summer, and a refilling of the water coffers.
I really ought to plant bulbs, too, since I manage to kill almost everything but the few houseplants on my kitchen sill. They get water only because they are right in my face and I can't avoid them.
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