Is it like Mary Contrary’s, with silver bells and cockle shell and pretty maids all in a row, or is it more like mine, growing like topsy?
I lean more toward a messy, cottage-like garden, with an affinity toward “volunteers”; those self-seeding flowers that find new places to bloom and tumble willy-nilly into their neighbors.
Presently, the ferns are like a flash mob, dancing about in the breeze and multiplying like fruit flies. I don’t mind. They are one of the few plants the deer don’t forage, they are easy to care for, they are easily transplanted, and they get along splendidly with hostas. They have, however, been selfishly taking up space where the poppies grow. This poppy managed to poke through to catch some late afternoon sunshine.
This morning, gazing outside, I saw this bumble bee drunk on the nectar of the fuchsia which hangs just outside our large picture window. I don’t know how I spotted it, but, there it was for quite some time, barely moving, lost in pollen nirvana. Click on the picture for a closer look. It is a bit blurry as we were photographing through our 90 year windows!
It is the peonies that are holding court in the Cutoff garden this week; a loose and blousy affair. They remind me of high school senior girls who have cast off their shoes to dance in the dirt, the hems of their gowns dusting the warm soil and their curled hairdos flouncing in the wind.
Smaller than the earlier blooming tree peonies, our peonies (paeonia japonica) are generous divisions from friends. Introduced into the the garden two years ago, Marilyn’s pink peony bloomed for the first time this year. It is radiant, especially when the setting sun bids it adieu.
Bev’s peony came to us in two divisions three years ago. Good stock these gals are; they are spreading so well we may need to divide them ourselves this year. I wish you could see them in person, for these pictures do not do them justice. A deep magenta, they are jewels to behold.
All this writing and photographing my garden has worn me out. I think I’ll go back to the arbor, sit on one of its benches, and anticipate the blooms of the roses and clematis that are now inching their way up the lattice in search of the sun. I love my garden; topsy and messy and blousy that it is. Blossoms are always arriving, like family or friends at a reunion. Yep! I think I’ll just go take a little sit-down and watch the reunion unfold.