Category Archives: Purple/Violet/Lavender/Lilac

Fairy Crown #25-Autumn Monkshood & Snakeroot

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For gardeners who lament the end of the flowering season in colder regions, my 25th fairy crown offers a reminder that there are perennials that offer bloom for the border – as well as the bees – well into October.  But I will admit to a tiny bit of trepidation as I placed it ever so gently on my silvery locks. That’s because the indigo-purple flower is monkshood: one of the most toxic plants in gardening – and also one of my very favourite perennials. Meet Aconitum carmichaelii ‘Arendsii’, aka autumn monkshood. (More on the toxicity later.) The white flowers are autumn snakeroot or bugbane, Actaea simplex (formerly Cimicifuga). The violet-purple daisy flowers are ‘Hella Lacy’ New England asters (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae).  And the leaves against my cheek are fall-coloured Tiger Eyes cutleaf staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina ‘Bailtiger’).

There’s a corner of my back garden where three of these plants grow together. I think they have done well there because it’s the lowest part of my garden – just by inches, but that means that table water goes there naturally. Also, it’s the right amount of light for them, being somewhat shaded by the cedar hedge and surrounding trees.  But I do give the monkshood supplemental water when I’m around. And I realized that other monkshood stands in my garden have suffered in the summer months when I’m at the cottage since they’re not drought-proof by any means.  They also like rich soil and (note to self) are overdue for a good feeding of compost in the spring.

I happen to be very fond of blue and white used together in the garden (and have a large photo library devoted dozens of excellent examples of the combination), so this particular autumn pairing pleases me very much.

In some light, autumn monkshood looks deep indigo-blue; in others, there’s a purplish sheen.  Years ago, when I realized how much I loved this perennial, I got busy dividing my first plants and moving the clumps around in spring. Take care to use thick gloves if you do this, especially if you have open cuts or scratches, because the tabloid stories of “murder by monkshood” are a little startling, though actual living monkshood plants are not usually to blame. In Toronto this summer, twelve people were hospitalized after eating at a Chinese restaurant because a spice was accidentally contaminated with an aconite powder from a different species used in traditional Chinese medicine. Still, if you have dogs that like to eat garden plants or young children who might be tempted, you might want to skip my favourite perennial!  (For everything you could possibly want to know about monkshood toxicity, read this article by the American Association for Clinical Chemistry.)

It’s obvious how Aconitum species got their common name, for the upper sepals of the flowers do resemble the hooded cloaks of medieval monks.  I love those black stamens tipped with white pollen and often see honey bees and bumble bees foraging in them too. ‘Arendsii’ is a hybrid cultivar developed originally by German nurseryman Georg Arends (1863-1952) at his nursery near Cologne.  Around 1945, he crossed A. carmichaelii and A. carmichaelii var. wilsonii to produce the plant.  Owing to its variability, the cultivar is sometimes called the “Arendsii Group”.   

Monkshood’s colour appeals to me, obviously!

Because autumn monkshood generally blooms between Canadian Thanksgiving (second Monday in October) and Remembrance Day in November, the plants can be hit by an occasional early snow…..

…. heavy enough to take the flower-laden stems to the ground.

Autumn snakeroot (Actaea simplex), by contrast, isn’t known to commit murder but the genus does have some toxic species, so don’t eat it!  Related and similar-looking to the summer-blooming Ontario native snakeroot, Actaea racemosa, it hails from northern Russia, western China, Manchuria, Mongolia, Korea and Japan. It has a delightful fragrance that reminds me of incense.  (I’ve written previously about this one in White Flowers for Sweet Perfume.)  Oh, and that big, reddish shrub in the background is native alternate-leaved dogwood (Cornus alternifolia).

On a warm, sunny October day, the spike inflorescences are alive with all kinds of bees and flies, including bumble bees.

I do love Tiger Eyes® cutleaf staghorn sumac (Rhus typhina ‘Bailtiger’) in all seasons, though it is not without its drawbacks. Like the regular native species, parts of it seem to die off each summer. As well, its rhizomes travel a long distance – in my garden, right under a patio to pop up perkily beside my pond. I’ve dug up and re-planted some of these seedlings, being careful to cut the rhizome first and give the new plant time to heal and form feeder roots.  But nowhere is the plant as happy as in its original corner, in rich, moisture-retentive soil.  It has bright chartreuse foliage in spring and early summer and the fuzzy red fruits feed the resident cardinals and robins throughout winter.  But it’s that brilliant apricot-orange foliage that is impressive right now. 

Another fall favourite in my back garden is Molinia arundinacea ‘Skyracer’. When it flings those flowering stems out like a bouquet, then turns bright-gold, it’s a sight to see.

Here’s my autumn kitchen view into the back garden right now, over the lower-deck pots with their tough-as-nails sideoats grama (Bouteloua curtipendula).  There’s a mellow quality about October that is such a relief, after the jungle growth and heat of summer.

In my front garden there’s a small stand of New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae). This one is the cultivar ‘Hella Lacy’—and I wish I could say it is as spectacular as Hella’s husband, the late garden writer Allen Lacy, described it in his 1990 book The Garden in Autumn.  He found it growing in a few neighborhood gardens near his New Jersey home in 1972. “When I first clapped eyes on it in a front yard just down the block, I knew it was classy. This aster is very sturdy, requiring no staking, although it grows up to four feet high and the same distance across. It bears enormous numbers of large, single, purple flowers, each with a bright golden eye when it first opens. For the two weeks that it stays in bloom… it is the handsomest plant in town, not only for its intensity of color but also for the great number of Monarch butterflies hovering over it…”  As you can see, there are bees enjoying my Hella Lacy flowers: a green Agapostemon virescens, a honey bee and the common Eastern bumble bee. In fact, by early October most Monarchs have departed Toronto for Mexico.  Also, my Hella Lacy is unirrigated, i.e. watered in summer only when it rains, and since all New England asters thrive in rich, moist soil (you often see wild plants flanking roadside ditches), it is likely not as beautiful as those Allen saw and named for his wife.  Nevertheless, it is a highlight of my garden in mid-late October.

Native Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) is colouring in my garden now as well. Though it’s not as uniformly red as some vines I’ve seen growing in full sun, it does form fruit which the birds love.

Last autumn, I looked out my kitchen window and saw a pair of Northern flickers snacking on the fruit.  It was such fun to see the yellow on the male’s tail feathers – before it was chased away by a red squirrel.

Finally, here’s a little bouquet to mark Fairy Crown #25 and the last flowers in my garden. But it’s not the end of the crowns, not quite yet. Stay tuned…

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Want to catch up with my blogs on the earlier fairy crowns? Here they are:

#1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths 
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka
#8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums
#9 – Borrowed Scenery & an Azalea for Mom
#10 – June Blues on Lake Muskoka
#11 – Sage & Catmint for the Bees
#12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries
#14 – Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed
#15 – Echinacea & Clematis
#16 – A Czech-German-All American Blackeyed Susan
#17- Beebalm & Yellow Daisies at the Lake
#18- Russian Sage & Blazing Stars
#19-My Fruitful Life
#20-Cup Plant, Joe Pye & Ironweed
#21-Helianthus & Hummingbirds
#22-Grasses, Asters & Goldenrod
#23-Sedums, Pass-Along Plants & Fruit for the Birds
#24-Fall Asters & Showy Goldenrod for Thanksgiving

Fairy Crown #8 – Lilac, Dogwood & Alliums

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My crown for May 31st wafted its fragrance around my head and made me wish I could bottle its sweet perfume.  That would be the scent of the Meyer lilac (Syringa pubescens ‘Palibin’) that I planted in my fragrance garden long ago. The white flowers are from my big alternate-leaved dogwood (Cornus alternifolia), an Ontario native shrub. And the fluffy spheres are an ornamental onion, Allium hollandicum ‘Purple Sensation’.

Much of the joy of lilac time is that it only lasts a week or so – if you just grown one type – so I’ve learned to savour that scent on the air or in a vase on my kitchen table, along with dame’s rocket (Hesperis matronalis).

Unlike the towering common lilac (Syringa vulgaris) which, if left unpruned, grows so tall that it flowers out of nose range, my Palibin dwarf lilac is just the right height to sniff at 5-6 feet (1.5-1.8 m) and a little wider. Some people grow it as a tightly-clipped hedge, but I prefer to let it have its natural shape.

True, it has a light scent, not the old-fashioned perfume of the Hyacinthiflora hybrids or common lilac, but it is nonetheless an ultra-hardy and low-maintenance fixture in my fragrance garden, and swallowtail butterflies enjoy nectaring on the tiny florets.

Its ancestor was found as a cultivated plant grafted on privet roots near Beijing, China in 1908 by Frank Meyer, who brought it to the U.S. It was named in his honour, Syringa meyeri, before being reclassified as Syringa pubescens subsp. pubescens ‘Palibin’. (Despite the fact that it was never found in Korea, it is often confused in the trade with the Korean lilac species, S. patula and its cultivar ‘Miss Kim’, as well as littleleaf lilac, S. microphylla.)   

No such taxonomic confusion surrounds one of my favourite garden plants, the alternate-leafed dogwood (Cornus alternifolia). Native to a large swath of northeast North America, it is sometimes called pagoda dogwood for its layered branching.  It occupies a corner of my garden that sits just a few inches lower than the rest of the back yard, and appreciates the extra moisture there.  It is approximately 18 feet (5.5 m) tall and almost as wide.

It derives its Latin and common names from the fact that, unlike other dogwoods, the leaves are arranged alternately, rather than opposite. Some people refer to it as “pagoda dogwood” for its layered branching.

When it blooms in late May or early June, it is completely covered with creamy-white clusters of tiny flowers that attract native bees. I now have a few offspring of my original shrub seeded throughout my garden, which fills me with joy. And this morning I noticed the familiar flowers reaching over the fence from my next-door neighbours’ yard. I’m not sure they’ll know it was a gift from me, but it seems that my dogwood is intent on taking back native habitat from boring back yards! Hurrah!

In late summer, birds and squirrels make quick work of the blue fruit clusters….

….. and in October, the foliage turns a lovely rose suffused with gold.

Then there are the alliums, or ornamental onions. When I first planted Allium hollandicum ‘Purple Sensation’ a few decades ago, I didn’t expect that it would be quite so exuberantly happy in my garden. Translated, that means it seeds itself around vigorously, especially in spots that dry out in summertime. 

The good news:  the bees love the violet-purple globes on 3-foot (90 cm) stems; the bad news:  the plants look seriously ugly as the leaves turn yellow.

Rather than let them grow in a thicket, like I do in places, the best approach is to intersperse them among herbaceous plants, such as Solomon’s seal (Polygonatum biflorum), below, with old fashioned dame’s rocket (Hesperis matronalis). The latter is a biennial that took decades to creep under the fence from my next-door neighbor’s garden. It is native to Eurasia and considered an invasive in some parts of North America where early settlers brought it to grow in their gardens. Driving home from New Jersey last week, I saw it growing in drifts along the side of the highway in Pennsylvania and upstate New York.

Perhaps no other weed has as many common names:  dame’s rocket, damask-violet, dame’s-violet, dames-wort, dame’s gilliflower, night-scented gilliflower, queen’s gilliflower, rogue’s gilliflower, summer lilac, sweet rocket, mother-of-the-evening, Good & Plenties, and winter gillyflower (Wiki).  As for its Latin name, Hesperis comes from the Greek word hespera, meaning evening, referring to the plant’s nocturnal fragrance.

In my front garden, Allium ‘Purple Sensation’ pops up, along with the hybrid Allium ‘Globemaster’, amidst the emerging foliage of grasses and summer perennials.   Dramatic purple exclamation points in a sea of green, they offer a charming interlude in this quiet, green period between the last spring bulbs and the sages and catmint of June.

And then there’s an unassuming little native perennial that most of my neighbours would consider a weed. Virginia waterleaf (Hydrophyllum virginianum) grows in shady spots in my garden and, unlike the European weeds that like to colonize every square inch of freshly-dug soil, it picks its spots carefully. Its name comes from the white patterns that adorn the foliage of many, but not all, plants.  When its tubular, white flowers bloom above the lobed leaves in late May, they are very popular with bumble bees and other native bees.

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Want to see more of my Fairy Crowns?
#1 – Spring Awakening
#2 – Little Blossoms for Easter
#3 – The Perfume of Hyacinths
#4 – Spring Bulb Extravaganza
#5 – A Crabapple Requiem
#6 – Shady Lady
#7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka

The Rochester Lilac Festival

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Earlier this month – on Friday, May 13th to be exact – my husband Doug & I began a 12-day road trip through the northeast U.S. to celebrate his university reunion in New Jersey and to tour as many public gardens as we could fit in along the way. On that first day, we drove from Toronto to Rochester, New York in order to enjoy the first of three May weekends at the Rochester Lilac Festival at Highland Park. It bills itself as the largest free festival in North America and given the already-filled parking lots and hordes of people milling in the park, I can believe it. Walking towards the lilac plantings, we passed booths with huge lilac bouquets….

….. and themed t-shirts….

….. and vendors of cut flowers that were NOT lilacs.

And, yes, there was cotton candy.  It’s a festival, after all.

Given the hot temperatures and sunny skies as we arrived at mid-day, photo conditions were terrible for photography – but oh-so-perfect for perfume, which wafted everywhere!

But I did manage to create some photos on the shady side of the shrubs, including one cultivar I later nominated as one of the top 3 lilacs of the (admittedly abbreviated) roster we viewed.  Meet Syringa vulgaris ‘Jessie Gardner’, a 1956 introduction by the Gardener Nursery in Wisconsin.

There are more than 500 varieties (species, cultivars, hybrids) of lilacs and more than 1,200 lilac shrubs arrayed on the gently sloped hillsides of Highland Park. Because they originate in extremely cold climates in Europe and Asia, lilacs have no problem surviving winter in upstate New York and southern Canada.  Other big collections are held at the University of Wisconsin Arboretum in Madison and the Katie Osborne Lilac Garden at Ontario’s Royal Botanical Garden. I have also photographed the lilac collection at the Montreal Botanical Garden and rare species lilacs such as Syringa sweginzowii from China in the David Lam Asian Garden at UBC Botanical Garden in Vancouver, below.

There are many lilac types that provide a long season of flowering, from April into June in certain climates. Flowers are officially assigned Roman numerals for colour: I-White, II-Violet, III-Bluish, IV-Lilac, V-Pinkish, VI-Magenta, VII–Purple. Interestingly, we often refer to certain flowers being “lilac coloured”, which according to its origin in the “IV-Lilac” hue of the common lilac Syringa vulgaris is neither the lavender-blue nor the mallow-mauve that people often mistake as “lilac”.  In doing my various explorations on colour, I’ve grouped true lilac-coloured flowers in this montage.

Part of the difficulty of assigning a colour to lilacs is that the flowers change colour as they age, which you can see below with S. vulgaris ‘Professor Sargent’, named in 1889 by German botanist and nurseryman Franz Späth for Charles Sprague Sargent (1841-1927), first director of Harvard University’s Arnold Arboretum.

I am very partial to the Hyacinthiflora Hybrids, aka the Early Hybrids, partly because I live in a place where winter lasts well into “spring” and these fragrant lilacs tend to flower a few weeks ahead of the common lilac and its cultivars, and partly because the Canadian breeder Dr. Frank Leith Skinner (1882-1967) of Manitoba had a major role in their development. They are hybrids of S. vulgaris and the broadleaf Korean lilac, S. oblata or S. oblata var. dilatata. So the second of my Top 3 lilacs at Rochester was Syringa x hyacinthiflora ‘Excel’, a 1935 Skinner introduction which performs exactly as its name suggests, with excellence!

Another beautiful Frank Skinner Hyacinthiflora Hybrid is pure white ‘Sister Justina’, below, introduced in 1956.

Nearby was a common lilac cultivar, Syringa vulgaris ‘Frederick Law Olmsted’, hybridized by Father John Fiala (1924-90) and named in 1987 for Olmsted, the man sometimes called the father of American landscape architecture, who with his partner Calvert Vaux designed many well-known landscapes including New York’s Central Park and Rochester’s own Highland Park, the site of the lilac festival!  Father Fiala was legendary in lilac circles for authoring the book “Lilacs: A Gardener’s Encyclopedia”.  

Father Fiala also bred this beauty, S. vulgaris ‘Albert F. Holden’, also in my ‘Top 3″, with its deep-violet, very perfumed flowers with a silver reverse (similar to ‘Sensation’, but not as crisply white-edged). It was named for the man who endowed the Holden Arboretum in Kirtland, Ohio.

Rochester features many of the so-called “French hybrids” bred by the nurseryman Victor Lemoine and his son Emile between 1870 and 1950.  Among them are S. vulgaris ‘Linné’ from 1890, sometimes called ‘Linnaeus’ – the ultimate tribute name in botany.

Syringa vulgaris ‘Leon Gambetta’ with its double flowers, below, was introduced by Lemoine in 1907, its name honouring the French lawyer and republican politician who proclaimed the French Third Republic in 1870 and played a prominent role in its early government.

‘Jules Ferry’, also introduced by Lemoine in 1907, was named for a former Prime Minister of France during the Third Republic.

‘Paul Thirion’ was introduced by Lemoine in 1915 and is a popular and fairly common lilac.  Lemoine named it for a horticulturist at Nancy Parks, France. It is classed as VI-Magenta in colour.

Syringa vulgaris ‘Frank’s Fancy’, bred in the 1970s by Edward Mezitt of Weston Nurseries in Massachusetts and named for his friend Frank Goodwin, looks very magenta to my eye but is classed as VII-Purple. Blame it on the light.

For me, this is a classic and beautiful lilac truss:  mauve buds opening to pinkish-lilac florets on S. vulgaris ‘Frau Wilhelm Pfitzer’ introduced by Germany’s Pfitzer Nursery in 1910.

Syringa vulgaris ‘Silver King’ was bred by Wisconsin’s Dr. A. H. Lemke in 1941; its flowers are classed as III-Bluish but they are as close to silver as you’ll see.

Another type of lilac flowering at this time is the hybrid Chinese lilac, Syringa x chinensis, sometimes called the Rouen lilac because it was discovered in 1777 flowering in Rouen, France.  It is a cross between common lilac, S. vulgaris and Persian lilac, S. persica, from Iran.

Then there is S. x chinensis ‘Bicolor’ with its purple eye on pale pinkish flowers.

Seed of this unusual lilac, Syringa ‘Rhodopea’ was collected by botanist Václav Stříbrný in 1900 in the Rhodope Mountains in Bulgaria and cultivated in the botanical garden in Prague.  It has a different bearing and, according to the International Lilac Register is “not a uniform clone”, which accounts for it not always being included in the S. vulgaris clan.  Speaking of the Register, it is an invaluable resource to those searching for information on lilac cultivars and can be accessed here as a .pdf file.

Finally, I had to commemorate our Rochester visit with a husband-and-wife selfie, because who wouldn’t want to remember what it was like to stand amidst these perfumed shrubs on a warm afternoon in May? 

As we packed up the crumbs from our picnic lunch (devilled egg sandwiches made in my Toronto kitchen at dawn!) and made our way back to the car to drive on to Utica for the night, I asked a young mother if I could take a farewell photo for my blog, which she happily agreed to. What lucky children to run amongst the lilacs.

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LILAC PEOPLE

Speaking of selfies, what fun it was during my few hours at the Rochester Lilac Festival to run into someone I knew only as a Facebook friend.  Brian Morley of Kansas City, Missouri is a man of many talents. Not only does he co-own a fabulous business called Bergamot & Ivy Design with lush, innovative floral designs, he is also an accomplished lilac hybridizer and is on the Board of Directors of the International Lilac Society. It is a small world, but perhaps not so small when people who love lilacs gather in a famous spot devoted to the genus Syringa.  And we gave each other’s lilac wardrobe choices an approving nod!

During my freelance career, I have been fortunate to correspond with renowned lilac experts, including the late Freek Vrugtman, International Lilac Registrar and Curator Emeritus of Ontario’s Royal Botanical Gardens, which features a large collection of lilacs in its Katie Osborne Lilac Dell, below.

Freek Vrugtman proof-read my May 2008 story on Hyacinthiflora lilacs for Canadian Gardening magazine, below….

…… and we chatted by email when I had a question on lilacs.  After his death on March 3, 2022, the RBG published a memorial tribute which included the following passage:  “Working with RBG’s other staff, including Charles Holetich and Leslie Laking, Freek directed considerable attention to the collection and became the International Registrar for Lilacs in the Genus Syringa in 1976, as RBG became the International Cultivar Registration Authority, or ICRA, for Lilacs. Whenever a new cultivar was bred anywhere in the world the breeder would submit a request to Freek for its entry into the International Registry. Freek would review all such applications and guide the breeder through the process. As Registrar Freek became widely known as the international expert on Lilac cultivars.“

When I had a lilac identification question Freek couldn’t answer, he passed it on to the RBG’s lilac specialist, Charles Holectich: “What do you think, Charlie?”  Way back in 1994, when I was writing my weekly newspaper garden column for the Toronto Sun, I interviewed Charles Holetich for some hints on caring for these lovely spring shrubs.  This is my column from May 22, 1994 – twenty-eight years ago!  Below that I’ve included the interview as a Q&A.

JD:  What’s the best location for lilacs?

CH:  Lilacs prefer open, sunny locations and neutral soil, though they will grow in slightly alkaline or slightly acid conditions and are found in both.

JD:  What about drainage? 

CH:  They dislike wet feet, so if planted in clay-type soil which has a tendency to retain moisture, you should make a hill about 2 feet high and 8-10 feet wide, so excess moisture seeps away.

JD:  If it’s located in full sun, does a lilac shrub need to be fertilized?  

CH:  If it has too much foliage and not enough bloom, that means it’s high in nitrogen.  In order to induce flower buds, you should feed it with a high phosphate (middle number) fertilizer like 4-12-8 or 5-45-15.  This should be done immediately after flowering because next year’s buds are being formed in June, July and August.

JD:  What about all those seedheads?  Must they be removed and how can you reach the top ones on a big shrub?   


CH:  When summer has adequate rainfall, then it doesn’t matter because there’s sufficient energy to bring enough nutrients from the soil to satisfy the formation of both seedheads and flowering buds.  But in drought summers, you should remove seedheads and water deeply, about 5-6 inches once a month. 

JD:  Pruning confuses a lot of lilac owners too. 

CH: I think the ideal for a multi-stemmed lilac is to have 9-15 stems of different thickness positioned so they don’t rub each other.  Once this is achieved, then every two years or so, you should remove one or two of the oldest stems at ground level, keeping up to 3 new shoots.  Then the next year, you can decide which of the three is the best to keep and remove the others.

JD:  How tall should a lilac be kept pruned?

CH:  I’m a strong believer that a lilac should be deliberately kept pruned at between 6-9 feet.  

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To all the passionate lilac lovers, growers and breeders, I tip my fragrant hat, fashioned with trusses of my own Syringa pubescens ‘Palibin’ and lily-of-the-valley (or, as it’s accustomed to being addressed in my garden, “guerilla-of-the-valley”….)

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Want to read more about spring shrubs?  Read my blogs on:
The David Lam Asian Garden at Vancouver’s UBC
Spring at Van Dusen Botanical Garden, Vancouver (2 parts)
Spring at Ontario’s Royal Botanical Garden
The Rosy Buds of May and Beyond
A Shade Garden Master Class (Montreal Botanical Garden)

La Casita Moradita de Tequila

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There’s no question that the most unusual garden I’ve ever visited – and not just on my Austin tour this May– is the one belonging to the inimitable Lucinda Hutson.

Yes, that Lucinda Hutson. The Austinite who might be the world’s leading authority on tequila, pulque, mescal, margaritas – and of course VIVA!  Because Lucinda is certainly an expert on what Mexicans would call alegría de vivir or what the French could call joie de vivre. Meaning, of course, that life is a party and it’s meant to be lived joyously and in full colour. Preferably with tequila, the subject of her latest book, Viva Tequila, a truly fabulous read on one of the world’s favourite licores. 

The video below in Lucinda’s own voice gives an idea of the breadth of the book.

So let’s take our own tour of Lucinda’s wonderful garden and casita moradita (“little purple house”), where she has lived and gardened for 41 years.  Imagine a passionate-purple house from the 1940s with a funky cottage garden out front and a Mexican cantina out back.  Well, actually, you don’t have to imagine: here it is.  Taken together, her ‘Texicana’ house and garden pay homage not just to the colour purple, but to sandia (watermelon), papaya, mango and the brilliant colours of the Mexican barrio, yellow and turquoise.  And notice the hues that Lucinda is wearing match that arch perfectly! That’s colores style.

Her front garden palette, unsurprisingly, features lots of purples (Salvia guaranitica ‘Amistad’), as well as blues and pinks.

And the ‘Amistad’ sage, unsurprisingly, always features bees (and hummingbirds).

There are lots more heat-loving sages in the front garden. Here one is paired with the unusual blooms of bat-face cuphea (Cuphea llavea).

There are all kinds of chairs and benches in Lucinda’s gardens where you can sit and enjoy the view — and in this case, the delicious perfume of Confederate jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminioides).   Love this colour combination.

And this on the shawl below.

Every detail is thought out, including the broken Mexican crockery beneath the pelargonium.

The fish tile leads us down the side of the house into Lucinda’s Mermaid Grotto.

What a lovely spot for sitting and listening to the trickle of water in the pond.

There are lots of sirenas here, amidst seashells and mother-of-pearl! The succulents are arranged to look like plants at the bottom of the sea.

And, of course, fishy chairs in turquoise-and-orange……

…and seashore-themed coffee tables.

Just another mermaid, but this one fashioned from Haitian oil drums.

As we toured, Lucinda’s cat Sancho did his morning grooming under bougainvillea.

What lovely colour sense she has, created sometimes with small gestures that catch the eye.

“Our Lady of La Tina” (the bathtub goddess) has the job of protecting the garden.

Near the back of the house is the raised vegetable-herb garden. Lucinda grew up in El Paso, Texas in the desert, surrounded by cacti and gravel. She developed her love of herbs and old-fashioned, bright flowers during her travels in Mexico. Look at how simple…..

…..flowers like zinnias and marigolds — both Mexican natives — create a fiesta-like atmosphere.  Lucinda freely admits that her gardens are anything but low-maintenance. “This is a water-intensive garden that requires hours with the hoses in the summer, despite my drip system — so many pots and nooks and crannies.”  She credits the help of her “wonderful, like-minded gardener from Mexico who shares his culture and ideas with me, and we have so much fun!”

She learned how to cook with Mexican flair, using herbs fresh from her garden.  Those culinary delights were featured in her Herb Garden Cookbook, which was published in 1992. Her articles have also appeared in Food and Wine, Food Arts, Fine Gardening, Horticulture, The Herb Companion, Kitchen Garden, Organic Gardening and Southern Living. Isn’t that rustic bench lovely…..

….with its cushions of hermosas flores!

Mexican pottery is also displayed throughout the garden.

Why men need to take cheap cialis mastercard ? Men above the age of 40 generally require some stimulation to achieve full erection in their penis during lovemaking. Although not everyone is seen talking about it, numerous men sildenafil viagra devensec.com are seen affected by impotence condition. These herbal pills are available in the market, when it comes to the effectiveness, this drug surpasses all its contenders. order generic cialis devensec.com buy cialis online http://www.devensec.com/development/FREQUENTLY_ASKED_QUESTIONS_2016.pdf Broccoli, cabbage and cauliflower are some among the best food for a healthy and balanced diet. Swiss chard and baby sun rose (Aptenia cordifolia) in a cobalt-blue pot. What a nice combo!

Lucinda invited us to crush the allspice leaves, one of many tender plants she grows for her cookery. She moves this one into the greenhouse for winter.

Even the trash corner looks festive in her garden, with that purple clapboard and blown glass behind it.

Children’s folk-art chairs are arrayed on the wall, as is the custom in parts of Mexico.

Now we’ve come to fiesta central, the deck that hosts Lucinda’s famous parties and salsa dancing. Behind is her writing studio.

This is the buffet/bar.  Wouldn’t you love to be invited to a party here?

Now we’re in Lucinda’s Tequila Cantina, her homage to all things tequila. The vignette below would be perfect for the annual Dio de los Muertos celebrated by Mexicans (and Austinites) on November 1st.

Her collection of tequila bottles, glasses and accessories is epic.

More turquesa!

I’ve seen a lot of bottle trees in southern and southwest gardens, but none as evocative of lime and salt as this tree, appropriately mulched with corks!

Leading from the garden into the kitchen is the Stairway of Dreams. Come on in! (Lucinda said it’s okay….)

There are sleek, granite-countered kitchens, then there’s Lucinda’s wonderful, funky kitchen. I cannot imagine how many comidas deliciosas began in this colourful place!

Nor how many of her special Mexican martinis were mixed at this cabinet.

What a wonderful dining room for entertaining friends in Austin winters.

And, of course, there’s an agave chandelier overhead.

The Mexican punched-tin lamp sports its own adornments.

And there is folk art galore all around, from a lifetime of collecting in Mexico.

Her living room is cozy (and rosy).

Even the bathroom window is a seaside fantasy.

My last stop on the house tour was the bedroom, where purple walls and gorgeous bed linens create a kind of sueño mexicano.

Then it was time to say adios to our lovely hostess.

But that wasn’t the last time we’d see Lucinda during our fling. She was signing books the next night at our farewell party at the fabulous shop and venue, Articulture. Viva Tequila! is such a good read, part history, part botany, part cookbook, part cocktail primer and all fun — highly recommended.  (When I photographed her below, she had discovered I was Canadian and was regaling me with her love of the singer Ian Tyson. I think she even sang a few bars of one of his songs!)

I adore Mexico and have visited many regions over the past four decades. So here’s a margarita toast (straight from the beach in Manzanillo) to Lucinda Hutson and her exuberant spirit. Salud!

And since we can’t hear the mariachi bands that have surely graced Lucinda’s parties in her El Jardín Encantador, here’s a trio from a favourite restaurant in Cozumel, Casa Mission, singing my very favourite Spanish song.  I dedicate it to her.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zdNsM24JCak

Singing the Praises of Woodland Sage

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‘Tis the season for one of the loveliest perennial stalwarts in my little pollinator garden: woodland or meadow sage (Salvia nemorosa). Nemorosa means “growing in groves or woods.”  I grow two types (both unlabelled), a deep indigo-blue that may be ‘Mainacht’…..

….and a pink-flowered one without a name (maybe ‘Pink Friesland’) that looks gorgeous with my catmint (Nepeta ‘Dropmore Hybrid’)…..

That’s the creamy, double-flowered Camassia leichtlinii ‘Semi-Plena’ with them, below.

The pink one came in a pollinator plant pack that was subsidized by the Canadian Wildlife Federation, which included it with butterfly milkweed and echinacea. And though I’ve yet to see a monarch on my woodland sages, they do attract loads of bees for their nectar and pollen, including natives like bumble bees…..

…. and fluorescent green sweat bees….

…. as well as honey bees.  Look at the pollen on this little girl!

In my wildish gardens at Lake Muskoka, the ubiquitous Salvia nemorosa ‘Mainacht’ (‘May Night’) finds its own partners, like self-seeded pink musk mallow (Malva moschata)……

….. and common oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare).

Let’s look at some more late spring-early summer design ideas for woodland sage from some of my favourite public gardens. Dutch designer Piet Oudolf uses meadow sages liberally in his designs, including the entry border at the Toronto Botanical Garden. Here is Salvia nemorosa ‘Amethyst’ with wine-red Sanguisorba menziesii.

And here it is in a tone-on-tone combo with the big globes of Allium cristophii.

The honey bees from the TBG’s beehives love ‘Amethyst’, too.

I loved this combination of  woodland sage with Astrantia major ‘Claret’ and red feather clover (Trifolium rubens). Unfortunately, the clover is not long-lived.

The dark wands of woodland sage make a good partner to the luscious peony ‘Buckeye Belle’ in the Oudolf border, below.
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In the perennial border at the TBG, Iris pallida ‘Variegata’ combines nicely with Salvia nemorosa ‘Mainacht’.

At the Royal Botanical Garden (RBG) in Hamilton, near Toronto, Oriental poppies and chartreuse lady’s mantle pair up with Salvia nemorosa ‘Blue Hill’ (‘Blauhugel’)…..

…. which is also a lure for bees of all kinds.

The RBG does an interesting pairing of common rush (Juncus effusus) with ‘Caradonna’ in their wildlife garden.

At Montreal Botanical Garden, this mass planting of Salvia nemorosa ‘New Dimension Rose’ with ‘Profusion Cherry’ zinnia caught my eye.

Perhaps my favourite design using woodland sage was at Chanticleer Garden in Wayne, Pennsylvania. (Read my 2-part blog on this spectacular garden.) In their Gravel Garden, ‘Caradonna’ was combined with annual, white Orlaya grandiflora and red corn poppies (Papaver rhoeas).

The dark wands are repeated down the Rock Ledge garden at Chanticleer with other June flowers…..

…. like hot-pink sweet William catchfly (Silene armeria)…..

….and orange foxtail lilies (Eremurus) along with blue globe onion (Allium caeruleum).

Near the ponds at the bottom of the Rock Ledge, ‘Caradonna’ was used like a crescent-shaped brush stroke through rushes and Artemisia, with big ‘Lucille Ball’ alliums bobbing behind.

And finally, in the Tennis Court Garden at Chanticleer, ‘Caradonna’ was used to provide dark accents alongside the chartreuse leaves of ‘Hearts of Gold’ redbud (Cercis canadensis), alliums and pink-flowered spireas.

Don’t you think it’s time you had meadow sage in your own garden?