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“How many more springs will be allotted to me?
Never enough of them even if I were granted a hundred more. That is why I am less and less inclined to do anything else in spring other than to observe its passage . . .”  -- from "Appalachian Spring" by Marcia Bonta |
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|  clear: easy breeze: 73ºFI arrived at about 8:30 a.m.- a half-hour before the Garden officially opens. The parking lots were already about half full. Florescent traffic cones had been put in place and men in vests that matched the color of the cones had gathered. Traditionally, Easter Sunday is the day many visitors make their annual "floral pilgrimage" to the Garden. But, anytime bulbs bloom in backyands and neighborhoods, crowds come to the Garden to get a super-sized helping of spring. The Garden keepers say that they planted over 84,000 bulbs this spring. Such large numbers start me thinking about even larger ones. I wonder if the Guinness Book of Records tracks lavish spring floral displays? People pose for pictures with flowering bulbs as a backdrop; they talk about the spring flowers that their parents or grandparents once planted and that still come up year after year. Children draw the stems of tall tulips toward them to sniff. People carry pencils and small spiral notebooks to help them remember the names of their best-liked blooms. I hear conversations with adjectives that range from "pretty" through "exquisite." Garden keepers have planted 128 varieties of new tulips. That is in addition to the many varieties of old favorites that were planted. With so much to choose from, I was curious about which tulip would be featured on the kiosk of plants in bloom. The kiosk, shaped like a garden cart, is just inside the doors that lead out to the Garden grounds. In it are about a dozen small vases. Each is filled with a sample blossom of some not-to-be missed flower. To help visitors locate the flowers, the kiosk has a map pinpointing the spot where each of the chosen flowers can be seen.  The keeper of the kiosk chose to display a tulip called 'Monsella.' It is a muscular tulip, unkempt and flashy. It has shed every vestige of the shapely Victorian formality of the Darwin and Triumph tulips. It is a double tulip with petals that sprawl. When planted in a cluster, it looks like the scene of an accident with its yellow "Caution Do Not Cross" warning tape colored petals interrupted with red flames. My catalogs of spring bulbs tell me that the 'Monsella' averages three six-inch blooms per stem. They say it is long lasting and that it has that most unusual of tulip traits - a fragrance.The bed of 'Monsella' tulips is sprinkled with tulips that are shaped like tulips ought to be. Their stretched oblong heads are borne on tall stems. Their colors mirror those of the Monsellas - vivid yellows with streaks of scarlet. The bed of these bedfellows is unlike all of the Garden's other interplantings of tulips. Rather than using color contrast, this bed aims for camouflage. The Monsella's companion is called 'La Courtine.' An internet source says it was developed in Holland to be sold in France as a cut flower.  Others were doing it, so I thought I would too. A bed of tulips mirrored in a reflecting pond is a picture not to be missed.  A new vine has been planted on the arbor that had to be rebuilt after it was forced apart by a headstrong wisteria. Looking closely at this new vine, I noticed what looked like a serving platter of floral leaves with a cluster of green dots at the center. I thought I was seeing a thing that I didn't know existed - a vining euphorbia. It doesn't (as far as I know) and it wasn't. The tag on the vine called it Lonicera 'Mandarin.' It is a honeysuckle. But, this honeysuckle comes with a pedigree. It is a registered cultivar of the University of British Columbia Botanical Garden with the Canadian Ornamental Plant Foundation and the International Registration Authority. Impressive! It was developed in 1989 and first flowered in 1991. I learned that the dots of green that I saw in the middle of the lime-green collars is a cluster of flower buds that will splay into a bouquet of trumpet-shaped, mandarin-orange colored flowers. This new vine has some remarkable traits: it survives winters of -30F; it does well in sun or partial shade; it grows up to seven feet a year; it is a draw for hummingbirds; and it grows in almost any soil. Just one drawback for me: it lacks the sweet, heady, summery scent that enlivens most honeysuckles.Scent. None better than lilacs. They have just started to bloom. This week as I sniff my way through the Garden, I wonder why anyone would ever want to plant anything another other than a lilac. I know that in a another week their scent will be gone and their foliage will blend into the green and later they will all come down with a bad case of mildew, but for now, I drink deep and long.  All winter long, the black sign that said Hosta 'Elvis Lives' pointed to a patch of empty ground covered with rotting leaves. I doubted The King. This morning, the King reappeared. Elvis indeed lives. |