Annabelle Hydrangeas and My Multitude of Sins

I love Annabelle Hydrangeas.  I have a long stretch of them planted alongside on house.  They hide (as they quickly sprout up in spring) the place where the paint is peeling off my home.  Part of this spot not getting repainted is exactly because they do grow so quickly making it almost impossible to paint it without painting the hydrangea as well.

Annabelle, first patented in 1929, and having the distinction of being the first plant patented in the US, is one of those almost heirloom plants growing in gardens around old homesteads.  There were no Annabelles here when I came, but my cottage style house cries out for them and their buddies, peonies, old-fashioned lilacs, bridal wreath spirea, climbing roses, not to mention lilies of the valley.

This year after our brutal winter I have new appreciation for these study plants.  All did well in my garden this year.

Having these plants as the basic framework of my garden has saved me from the overwhelming effects of the great die-back caused by our brutal winter, which will be remembered as That Winter.  (Although Handsome Son, taking a page from his Opa's Book of Gloom and Doom, has predicted we will have more like it.  I excuse these traditional readings from this book on the part of Opa.  Opa had an aunt who remembers the Year Without a Summer 2 (the year after Krakatoa blew in 1883).  So word of mouth, from Opa's ear to my son, we have living memory of meteorological gloom and doom.)

In my garden, though, it's a whole other thing.  It is a good thing.  Like my forebears, I can not run out and simply replace every plant that succumbs.  It is not an excuse to find another plant.  My budget simply will not allow it.  In many ways, my garden is one of shared plants, and plants collected from seed, grown from seed, and taken from cuttings.  I try to embrace a state of grace and stately-ness, but that is all in the design.  Using these tried and true plants passed along to me hides my lack of cash.

Some clear yellow iris (without any brown or shading of any sort on any part of the iris) passed along to my neighbor, pictured by him in his yard.  His favorite color is this clear yellow.   I don't know the name of it, which he bemoans loudly to me any chance he gets.  I keep thinking the provenance is "dug from a site by an old abandoned homestead", because I, too, appreciate a good clear, clean, yellow iris.  It seems to be unpalatable to borer, as well, which further leads me to think it might be that iris, dug from the side of a road.

They hide the weeds, do not complain too much when I can't water, and am slow to paint.  They provide armfuls of blooms.  

They forgive my sins.

Ambassadors Bearing Gifts

The beauty of the applied Fibonacci Sequence

As Winter has determined Spring's arrival will be on pause...

Sweet Autumn clematis trapped in ice

Not only trapped in ice, my Lapin cherry is suffering peculiar tortures all its own to conform to my evil designs.  See the strings? E-s-p-a-l-i-e-r...

As the Ruler of my own little part of the blogosphere, also the Head Gardener, Chief Cook, and Dog Walker of the Kingdom of Talking to Plants (because frankly there is no one else to talk to and nobody listens anyway...),  AND IT IS TRYING TO SNOW AGAIN!!!

(Jason, You need to up the Gardener Suicide Watch you have secretly implemented on my Kingdom.  Be sure all the hori hori knives, dibbers, and pruners are accounted for and in a safe location.)

During these overcast and cold days of Sprinter (a new season we have here in the Kingdom of Talking to Plants, declared by the Ruler when we are already six weeks beyond meteorological winter...and our forecast and environs look more like smack-dab in the middle of Winter, except for terribly random minutes of sunshine--which should be announced with the fanfare of those long trumpets (with no keys requiring a lot of lip work to play)-- so no subjects of the Kingdom miss even one errant minute of sunshine, because we are decidedly UV light-deprived as well...

So during these sad times here in the Kingdom we have used this rectangular Magic Looking Glass thingee to visit other kingdoms far and wide in the World of the Blogosphere. 

We have seen corpse flowers in bloom, flowering cherry and almonds, hellebores (all you gardeners who can grow hellebores-- of the non-foetid sort-- may rot in hell), dogwoods, women who recklessly run with delphiniums (!), other nearby kingdoms also caught up in the chilling grip of Sprinter,  and the cheerful and joy-filled daffodil watchers of the kingdom to the north. 

Additionally, Ambassadors from other lands, blue jays, robins, and the like (in addition the the Crown Prince Handsome Son and his Fair Lady) have been visiting the Kingdom of Talking to Plants.  The aforementioned Ambassadors have been treated to two beautiful, dried head of sunflowers, a collaboration between the Head Gardener, Baby Gardener, and Gardening Twins and Our Kingdom's Math Department. 


1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55,...

You get the idea...

The jays are the first I have seen this Sprinter, having been absent all Winter. They showed off their colorful finery to the amazement of the subjects of this grey Kingdom.  A group of 3 (5? very rowdy, spurious, and frenetic) male robins have also provided entertainment in the form of a joust over the wing of a rather dowdy lady robin, however, she seemed to have chosen a choice nesting spot just off my deck.

So entertainment for sunflowers seeds, a fair exchange.  (The Crown Prince desired more substantial fare.)

So reading on the travails of other parts of the Blogosphere, I sometimes desire to reach out and hand another kingdom either this seed or that, or a division of a hosta, or a piece of a clematis.  An ambassador bearing gifts, in the form of pass-along-plants.  Looking around the Kingdom, I realize this has long been a tradition amongst gardeners.

I am open to any and all suggestions for exchanges amongst the Kingdoms of the Blogosphere. 

So what are we gardeners still looking for this Sprinter?  Hankering for seeds of native plants (penstemon digitalis, ligularia dentata or japonica, clematis heraclifolia, etc.), extra heirloom tomato seeds from that packet (because God knows you probably don't need to plant the entire packet-- and like the growing season is even going to be long enough to ripen tomatoes anyway!), a division of a neat-o hosta (should they actually poke up their pointy eyes), a cutting from Clematis Josephine (or any others), some of The Fairy rose?  Something else, piece of a sedum (I think I need to do a feature this next week on the many sedum I have! Check back!)?

Anyone?  What are you looking for?