Daffodils on Lake Muskoka

I grew up on the mild west coast of Canada, where huge drifts of daffodils perfumed the air in springtime.  That sweet scent on the wind always seemed to me to be the height of something exotic.  And being able to pick a bunch of “daffs” to bring indoors seemed like the most luxurious of notions. But for one reason or other, I never had daffodils in my various eastern city gardens – at least for long.  I planted them all right, but they never thrived, perhaps because they disliked the clay in Toronto.  Whatever the reason, I didn’t worry much because there were lots of other bulbs and spring blossoms to enjoy.  And I could simply buy a bunch of daffodils at the greengrocer, right?

But when we built our cottage north of Toronto on Lake Muskoka a dozen years ago, I planned to have meadows with long grasses and wildflowers.  And I kept thinking about those mouthwatering photos of daffodils splashed across the English countryside.  As I was considering my options, I walked past my neighbour’s cottage down the shore and noticed lovely clumps of orange-trumpeted, white daffodils in her terraced beds.

“They’re so lovely,” I said to her. “Were they difficult to get established?” Laughing, she replied: “I didn’t plant them.  Charlie Peck did.” Charlie Peck, I knew from family stories, had owned her cottage in the 1950s.  If daffodils had been growing down there without any gardener’s help for more than half-a-century, I figured they’d do just fine for me.  So began my Lake Muskoka daffodil quest. Daffodils edging the path

At first I bought them in cheap mixes, balancing like a mountain goat to plant them in the sandy, acidic soil on the hillsides. Daffodils on the hillside

Then I ordered them by name, looking for “good naturalizers”, like ‘Ice Follies’, and cute ones like yellow-and-white ‘Pipit’.  Then I got very specific and bought sweetly-perfumed ones like gorgeous ‘Fragrant Rose’ and ‘Geranium’ and the poet’s daffodil (N. poeticus ‘Actaea’).  (To see my favourites, have a look at this post.)  Narcissus poeticus-the poet's daffodil

And slowly but surely, they’ve been multiplying, finding their place among the emerging penstemons and lupines and beebalms.Daffodils suit naturalistic plantings

And in late May, when the woods are adorned with trilliums, trout lilies and mayflowers; when my cottage path is overrun with violets and wild strawberries; when blackberries clamber up the hillside and wild columbines, blueberries, black huckleberries and black chokeberries open by the lake, I have the most exquisite springtime luxury of all – I have daffodils on my table. Daffodils in vintage bottles

And sometimes, I even pack ‘em up to take back to the city.Daffodils heading home in the L.L.Bean bag

 

Under the Garry Oaks

I was very fortunate during my recent week in British Columbia to see two Garry Oak Meadows in public gardens.  And ironic, in a way, for though I spent my first ten years as a little girl in Victoria, likely skipping through the oak meadows in Beacon Hill Park filled with azure-blue camas and snow-white fawn lilies, I had no idea what a charmed environment I was taking for granted.  Imagine seeing this (photo taken at my cousin and fruit guru Bob Duncan’s tiny Garry Oak meadow in Sidney), and not being mesmerized, even as a child. Quercus garryana & Camassia leichtlinii

The Garry Oak ecosystem celebrates the floral associations of the only oak native to British Columbia, Washington State and Oregon, Quercus garryana. (Its range also extends into parts of California).  Drought-tolerant and rugged, the garry oak is a transitional species that depends on disturbance (historically fire) to forestall the succession of meadow and oak woodland to Douglas fir forest. And as my friend Philip Van Soelen of California Flora Nursery says: “For thousands of years Native Americans were managing these Garry oak ecosystems in a form of permaculture. The fire which kept the conifers at bay was their primary & most powerful tool. The native bulbs, wildflowers & acorns were important food supplies”

Nevertheless, it is a fragile plant community threatened by development, a deadly gall wasp and oak leaf phylloxera. It is so near and dear to British Columbians that there’s even an association and website devoted to it, The Garry Oak Ecosystems Recovery Team.  So it was a thrill, on my very first day, to visit the Horticultural Centre of the Pacific in Saanich, Victoria and meet members of the HCP Native Plant Partnership Group standing in the rain, eager to give tours of the small Native Plant Garden and the recovering Garry Oak Meadow within it. The sign at the edge listed the plants one could expect to see at various times of the year.

HCP-Native Garden Sign

The entrance was spangled with great blue camas (Camassia leichtlini ssp. suksdorfii) and Oregon grape (Mahonia aquifolium).  Appropriately, there was a native bee nesting box as well. HCP Native Garden & bee box

And as we set out in the rain, I marvelled that we were now celebrating an environment that so many of us take for granted or ignore completely as being “just bush”, with the rotting stumps hosting huckleberries and bigleaf maple sprouting where it found a little sunshine.  My tour guide told me they hear this from visitors all the time.  “How nice that you’ve left this in its natural state,” they declare. Only she and the other volunteers know how much work has gone into this woodland treasure, now 14 years since its beginning as a barren lawn with picnic tables and orchard grass. HCP's Native Plant Woodland

The garry oaks were just coming into leaf, their branches dripping with moss. HCP's Garry Oak Woodland

And at the base of their trunks grew the spring wildflowers that have partnered with them from time immemorial.  The shooting stars (Dodecatheon pulchellum) were almost finished here, but there were still a few shimmering white fawn lilies (Erythronium oregonum). Fawn Lily-Erythronium oregonum

And I found one or two western white trilliums (T. ovatum) now aging to pink, and a few chocolate lilies (Fritillaria affinis var. affinis) still nodding their dusky brown heads. Trilllium ovatum & Fritillaria affinis var. affinis

The volunteers used naturescaping principles:  watering only to establish plantings; no fertilizer or pesticides; sheet mulching; weeding out invasives; path-building; and design of a hedgerow and bog. They were exceedingly proud of their artfully-designed stump plantings. Stump planting

And they pointed out the licorice ferns (Polypodium glychirriza) on moss-covered rocks that look so natural, you’d never guess the boulders were brought in for just that task.  Licorice fern-Polypodium glycyrrhiza

It was late afternoon when I thanked the volunteers and bade them farewell, but I would think of them later that week when I made my annual visit to the University of British Columbia Botanical Garden.  For there, adjacent to bustling S.W. Marine Drive with the David Lam Asian Garden on the far side of the road and forming the entrance to the alpine garden and edible garden on this side was a beautiful Garry Oak Meadow of an entirely different kindUBC's Garry Oak Meadow in early May

Begun in 2006, it is a nod to the iconic ecosystem, though not a recreation, since Garry oaks did not typically grow in this area.  But it allowed UBC to feature the beautiful native plants in a high-traffic spot.  I was wowed by the meadow filled with annual pink sea blush (Plectritis congesta) interspersed with great camas (C. leichtlinii ssp. suksdorfii).  Great camas & sea blush

Small camas (C. quamash) had already bloomed, but I was able to detect one of the significant clues to telling the difference between the two, since great camas has the endearing trait of twisting its withered tepals around the forming fruit to protect it.  Camassia leichtlinii with twisted tepals

Here and there amongst the pink sea blush were brilliant splashes of spring gold (Lomatium utriculatum).  Lomatium utriculatum & sea blush

I was so happy to have seen my second Garry Oak meadow at this spectacular pink-and-purple stage, since in just a few weeks’ time, the meadow will have transformed itself into a cheerful expanse of woolly sunflower (Eriophyllum lanatum) and yarrow.  UBC's Garry Oak Meadow in late May

And that’s a whole new story for another day! Wooly sunflower - Eriophyllum lanatum

Plant a Fumewort Party!

My most exciting spring bulb doesn’t look much like a “traditional” bulb flower; it looks more like a tiny orchid. It comes in gorgeous colors, is very hardy, spreads reliably and should be much more popular than it is.

Corydalis solida - Fumewort But shhhh…If everyone finds out how wonderful “fumewort” is, they’ll all be looking for it.  Even with that unfortunate common name, Corydalis solida has been the most pleasant find for me. And while the common mauve species is easy to find and spreads like crazy in a partly-shaded spot (mine are under a black walnut tree)…

Corydalis solida on my path

 

….the colorful cultivars like raspberry-pink C. solida ‘George Baker’ and light-pink ‘Beth Evans’ are more rare.  And they do cost a pretty penny, but if you begin with just a few bulbs they’ll slowly spread. Corydalis solida and its colorful forms are spring ephemerals, meaning they pop up quickly then die back for summer.  They prefer part shade and humus-rich soil, but my ‘George Baker’ is in full sun next right to a winter-salted boulevard and thrives there. Corydalis solida 'George Baker'

Here’s a little tip.  When you’re planting them in autumn, mix them up in a basket with some bright blue glory-of-the-snow (Chionodoxa forbesii), striped squill (Puschkinia scilloides), Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) and maybe some violet crocuses, or lavender-blue windflowers (Anemone blanda). That’s right, plant a fumewort party! Corydalis companions

Virtually Pest-Free!

Who doesn’t love beautiful de Caen poppy anemones (A. coronaria ‘de Caen Group’)?  I never bother to grow these little, tuberous, Mediterranean jewels because they love cool temperatures and they’re not hardy, so they’re really better suited to regions with long cool springs, like the Pacific Northwest and California.  But I cannot resist photographing them:  those jet-black eyelash stamens; those seductive central disks; those silken petals in rich purple, violet and brilliant scarlet.  So when I saw this lovely specimen on the shelf at Seaside Gardens in Carpinteria, I couldn’t resist.  It was just perfect, right? de Caen anemone

Well, it turns out you can’t always see the stowaways when you’re photographing the sleek red convertible. Hitch-hiking aphids

I imagine they must have been saying (warning: ‘aphipomorphism’ coming): “Smile. She won’t even notice us until she magnifies us on that screen of hers.”

Ah, that’s true. I didn’t notice you at all.  Yet sweet as you are, I have many ways of getting rid of aphids – and they’re all perfectly organic.  Sayonara, baby!No more aphids

Those Lowdown Springtime Blues

I’ve got those lowdown, dirty spring blues

In fact, I’ve got lowdown, dirty spring shoes!

But let’s get back to those azure spring hues

It’s my spring plant puzzle, and here are some clues:

1) Its common name is glory-of-the-snow

But its Latin name changed, as you might knowSpring-blues-1

2) If Jack and Jill climbed a Russian hill

They might pick a bouquet of this tiny squill Spring-blues-2

3) At first glance, this one honours a Russian poet – but he

Isn’t the right guy since his name is missing the “c”Spring-blues-3

I’m sure you know all these springtime blues

But which is which, and which would you choose?