Tag Archives: cottage country

Fairy Crown #28-Muskoka Winter Flora

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This blog celebrates my final fairy crown – and winter on Lake Muskoka. I am wearing what I found on our property near Torrance, Ontario, a village between Gravenhurst and Bala on the lake’s south shore.  There’s white pine (Pinus strobus), eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis), common juniper (Juniperus communis), winterberry (Ilex verticillata), red oak (Quercus rubra) and seedheads of showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) and wild beebalm (Monarda fistulosa).

To get to our cottage (when the snow isn’t as deep as it is this week), we leave the township roads and travel the last mile or so on a dirt road weaving its way through a snowy winter forest. Most of our neighbours have closed up for the season, but a few are winterized, i.e. keep some heat going so pipes don’t have to be emptied and liquids removed in autumn.

We chip in for a private plow guy and have a very kind neighbour who lets us park at their place after they’ve closed up and gone home. Everything we need for our stay must come from that point via the toboggans we drag behind us! Sometimes that involves snowshoes, too.

The reason for the walk is that our cottage, i.e. lakeside home, is considered “water access only”, being on a peninsula that juts out into a small bay of the very large Lake Muskoka. It’s actually an “isthmus”, as my husband always clarifies, because it’s a peninsula that curves around and continues as another peninsula across a narrow bay behind us.  Bays and coves and islands are typical of the three big lakes up here:  Muskoka, Rosseau and Joseph.

In early winter, the lake is usually in the process of trying to freeze, as you see here near our swim ladder. Since autumn was quite mild, it will take a while to cool the water enough to form a skim of ice that thickens….

…… and doesn’t break into shards with wind and currents.  This is a fascinating and dynamic process, with lots of moans and groans and cracks as the ice forms, melts, re-forms and thickens.

Sometimes, clouds in the sky and trees at the shore are reflected in the calm lake surface while ice is forming around it – and that is always fun to capture with my camera.

With the lake half frozen, a winter sunrise finds steam fog emanating from the still unfrozen portion of the lake in our bay.

If there’s enough humidity in the winter air – or if there’s been a stretch of freezing rain – you might see the white pine needles coated in ice.

Speaking of white pines, I gathered those in my bag to make my final fairy crown, along with the seedheads and berries I found on the property.  Those brown buttons are wild beebalm (Monarda fistulosa) and the fluffy seedheads are showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa), without question the two best bumble bee forage plants in my meadows.  They are also very good at spreading themselves around!

I like seeing the standing stems of summer perennials in the snow – or at least, I tell myself that in years like this one where I didn’t get the timing right to cut down my meadows in autumn.

After a fresh snow, the path running along the front of the cottage looks pristine.

‘Heavy Metal’ switch grass (Panicum virgatum) always looks festive near the rusty sign at the top of the stairs to the dock.

Showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) stays erect with its snowy cap for a long time in winter.

A glimpse past red oak boughs over my newest hillside meadow onto the slowly freezing lake.

The botanical trait that sees oak and beech leaves persist through much of winter is called “marcescence”.  According to Wikipedia, “Marcescent leaves may be retained indefinitely and do not break off until mechanical forces (wind for instance) cause the dry and brittle petioles to snap The evolutionary reasons for marcescence are not clear, theories include: protection of leaf buds from winter desiccation, and as a delayed source of nutrients or moisture-conserving mulch when the leaves finally fall and decompose in spring.”

The view from inside the cottage is of my sundeck covered with snow.  Those pots are where I grow the salvias and agastaches that attract the local ruby-throated hummingbirds in summer. But now, most of the birds have flown south, with the exception of the occasional raven or black-capped chickadee….

…. which relishes the fruit of staghorn sumac.

Depending on the kind of early winter we have, Lake Muskoka is usually frozen by late January or February.  Deep snow might cover the surface, which actually serves as an insulator, making the ice thickness less reliable, so we wait until we hear the thickness from reliable sources before walking on it.

And sometime in the next few months, that’s what I’ll be doing!

This has been a fun year of creating and blogging about my fairy crowns, but all good things come to an end.  Nevertheless, I decided to commemorate the project with a little something for my kitchen wall. Here it is!

A most Happy New Year to all my friends who travelled this far with me in the magical world of fairies!

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This is my final fairy crown blog:  If you missed one – or just want to be reminded of flowery spring or summer – here are the rest in chronological order:

#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
#25-Autumn Monkshood & Snakeroot
#26-Fall Finery
#27-Winter in the City

Fairy Crown 14-Golden Yarrow & Orange Milkweed

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With summer finally underway on Lake Muskoka, it’s time for a few of the stalwarts of my meadows and garden beds to feature in my 14th fairy crown. ‘Gold Plate’ yarrow (Achillea filipendulina) is hardy, low-maintenance and a dependable presence each July, well into August. I’ve written extensively about orange-flowered butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) over the years, and it remains one of my top 3 perennials for pollinator attraction.  At the top of my crown and over my left ear, you can see one of the bumble bees’ favourite weeds:  yellow-flowered St. Johnswort (Hypericum perforatum).  And that pale-pink daisy flower in the centre of my forehead?  That’s lovely pale coneflower (Echinacea pallida), a native perennial I’m trying so hard to naturalize in my meadows – but it takes its own sweet time, and will not be rushed!

As the July nights grow warmer, our cottage screened porch plays host to dinners gathering family members from far away. And the meadows are now full of colorful blossoms that generously yield bouquets for the table. 

Creating informal floral arrangements is one of my favourite pastimes at the lake, using a variety of containers from old ceramic vases purchased for a few dollars at the second-hand store in the nearby town to antique medicine bottles, below, bought at a garage sale.

Early each July, monarch butterflies arrive in my meadows at Lake Muskoka, seemingly drawn by some generational homing instinct to find the orange-flowered perennials that provide not just abundant nectar, but foliage on which to lay their eggs and ultimately feed the caterpillars of the next generation.  

Here’s a little video I made:

That perennial, of course, is butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) and it is one of my top 3 plants for pollinator gardening. (The two others will come later in my fairy crowns.)  It provides abundant nectar over a long period to a wide range of bees and butterflies, below.

But there is nothing more gratifying to me than counting all the monarch caterpillars on my milkweed plants, then watching them consume the leaves before disappearing to transform into the beautiful green chrysalis that becomes the butterfly.

With a wide native range from Newfoundland to Minnesota and Colorado and south to Texas and Florida, this is one of the most common milkweed species. In nature, it occurs in prairies, open woods and roadsides; it tolerates a range of soils from clay to limestone. For me, it grows in   the rich loam that was placed selectively in a few garden beds and in the acidic, sandy, well-drained soil of my meadows, below, with purple flowered Verbena stricta.

I’ve even had great germination results from kicking seeds into gravel on the path near our cottage.

It flowers for many weeks in July-August, reaching 2-3 feet (30-60 cm), and is a beautiful cut flower. Though it has a deep tap root and is described as being drought-tolerant, in the sandiest places on our property the leaves and blossoms wilt in a prolonged dry stretch while plants in more moisture-retentive sites thrive. It self-seeds readily, its oval follicles splitting open in fall to release its closely-packed seeds to the wind on delicate parachutes. 

One of the first perennials I planted at the cottage was the old-fashioned fernleaf yarrow Achillea filipendulina ‘Gold Plate’. Tall at 3-4 feet (90-120 cm) with sturdy stems and aromatic foliage, it is low-maintenance, ultra-hardy and bothered by nothing, including deer – unless you count…

….grasshoppers, which use the flat flowerheads as perches throughout summer. I see the odd sweat bee (Halictus ligatus) working the tiny flowers, but this yarrow is not known for its pollinator appeal. I planted it originally in richer soil than most of my meadows, and it generally prefers more moisture than many of my prairie perennials. Picked at the right time, it makes a long-lasting dried flower, keeping its gold color for years.

Pale coneflower (Echinacea pallida) is an enigma in my meadows, and one I’m patiently trying to encourage for its early bloom time, elegant flowers with their narrow, pale-pink petals and attraction to pollinators. This echinacea, originally considered an Ontario native, is now believed to have ‘ridden the rails’ into Canada from tallgrass regions in Iowa and Illinois, as part of freight shipments of “prairie hay” for cattle feed. It is more drought-tolerant than its cousin, purple coneflower (E. purpurea); indeed it flops in soil with too much moisture.  So year by year, I distribute seeds of the plants I have and keep my fingers crossed that one day they’ll be a major presence in my meadows.

St. Johns wort (Hypericum perforatum) is another weed brought to North America by settlers in the 18th century and is abundant in waste places on Lake Muskoka. An aggressive self-seeder and avoided by grazing animals, it is considered an invasive and detrimental weed when it invades rangeland. But try telling that to bumble bees and other native bees that forage busily on it in early summer to gather its abundant brown pollen.  Like dandelions, St. Johns wort is considered a ‘facultative apomict’, meaning it can make seed without fertilization – always a desirable attribute for a weed!

Some days in July as I’m working in the meadow, I hear the familiar “ke-eee” call above; looking up, I see our native broad-winged hawk (Buteo platypterus) wheeling in big circles on the hunt for small rodents and birds. Occasionally, it lands on an oak bough and peers down into the grasses, looking for lunch.

The hawk is just one of many birds on Lake Muskoka, a soundtrack that includes the slightly wonky multi-note song of the song sparrow, below; the pine warbler; red-eyed vireo; eastern phoebe; blue jay; black-capped chickadee; American goldfinch; hermit thrush and many others. Oh! And by the way, if you don’t have the Merlin Bird ID app installed on your phone, what are you waiting for? Such fun to hear that that piercing call is a Great Crested Flycatcher!

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Here are my previous fairy crowns for 2022:
#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 on Lake Muskoka
#13 – Ditch Lilies & Serviceberries

Fairy Crown 12 – Penstemons & Coreopsis in Muskoka

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Within days of the summer solstice, the meadows and wildish garden areas at our cottage on Lake Muskoka north of Toronto have become spangled with flowers – not all of which I actually planted. Indeed, ‘weeds’ like pink musk mallow (Malva moschata), yellow birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus) and everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius) are a fact of life here on Lake Muskoka; thankfully, most find it tough to compete with the rugged prairie perennials and grasses that I did plant.  Nonetheless, they all manage to look lovely together in my 12th fairy crown, which includes native foxglove penstemon (Penstemon digitalis), its steadfast companion native lance-leaved coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata), small yellow foxglove (Digitalis lutea), annual daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus) and the ripe fruit of native American red  elderberry (Sambucus pubens).

It’s a good time of year to craft bouquets from the meadow.

Foxglove penstemon (Penstemon digitalis) was one of the first plants I sowed at the lake and it remains one of my favorites.

Ultra-hardy, it is one of just three penstemon species native to Ontario; it is also native to Minnesota and other Great Lakes states.  Though there are red-leafed commercial cultivars like ‘Husker Red’ and some with dark leaves, stems and pinkish flowers like ‘Dark Towers’, I prefer the natural, red-stemmed variations that occur in a seed-grown population, like the one below

Best of all, it is perfectly happy in the dry, sandy, gravelly soil on our property where it survives drought, heat and extreme cold winter temperatures, often devoid of snow cover. It flowers at the same time, and in the same conditions, as lanceleaf coreopsis.  Here they are at the lakeshore…

…. and also behind our cottage this June.

Foxglove penstemon’s 2-3-foot (60-90 cm) spikes topped with bell-shaped, lightly-scented, white flowers in early summer are highly attractive to bumble bees, hummingbird clearwing moths and hummingbirds.

Here is a little video of foxglove penstemon and its flying fans at Lake Muskoka.

Lanceleaf coreopsis (Coreopsis lanceolata) is another carefree native that seeds itself around our property, enjoying the same conditions as foxglove penstemon. Until researching its native range for this blog, I had no idea another common name is “sand coreopsis”. It is also an “acidophile”. That explains why it is so happy in almost pure, acidic sand at the top of our Precambrian ridge where very few plants thrive, except perhaps Verbena stricta, hoary vervain.

However, it is not as long-lived as foxglove penstemon, below….

….and does not seem to appreciate extreme winter temperatures – unless it has adequate snow cover.  It reaches 2-3 feet (60-90 cm) with willowy stems. The cheerful yellow flowers host native bees and butterflies….

…. much to the occasional delight of crab spiders.

It is also an occasional (hilarious) snack for the local groundhog family, among many other tasty horticultural treats on that critter’s menu.  By mid-summer, I enjoy watching goldfinches eat the plentiful seeds.

Given that much of the ‘new’ soil on our hillside was delivered by barge, having been scooped up by tractor shovel from old fields nearby, it is unsurprising that common European weeds beloved by early settlers to the region would appear almost immediately. Musk mallow (Malva moschata) is one of those, a perennial that grows 2-3 feet (60-90 cm) tall and wide and features silken-petalled, pink blossoms in early-mid summer.

Musk mallow flowers aren’t visited by many insects, but are lovely additions to a small bouquet, along with the ubiquitous oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) from my 10th fairy crown.

Birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus corniculatus), on the other hand, is popular with bees, like most legumes, but considered an invasive plant. Another European species brought to North America by early settlers as a forage crop, it likes the sandy, gravelly soil of roadsides and disturbed places.

Because it cannot compete with my big prairie plants – and, more accurately, because weeding is not something I do at the cottage – it is welcome to co-exist with the other weeds, including tufted vetch (Vicia cracca) in the background below, which bumble bees and other bees adore. 

Straw foxglove or small yellow foxglove (Digitalis lutea) is a curious foundling in my driest meadow, where it has spread from a few plants more than a decade ago to a good-sized colony today. Another European native that made its way to the new world via early settlers, it attracts few pollinators but makes a lovely cut flower. It is my only weed that has received a Royal Horticultural Society Award of Garden Merit!

The pink pea flowers of everlasting pea (Lathyrus latifolius) are tucked into my June 25th Lake Muskoka fairy crown, too. By now you should not be surprised that this is another European stowaway in my meadows, a sprawling 6-foot (2 meter) perennial vine that clambers over other plants to arrive at its destination….

….. all the while producing nectar-rich blossoms that my bumble bees shamelessly adore. I could try to eradicate it, but it would be mission impossible.

Because it blooms so early, I often miss the flowering of the native red elderberry shrubs (Sambucus pubens, formerly S. racemosa) that grow in moist, part shade behind our cottage. But it’s impossible to miss the bright-red, early summer fruit – provided hungry birds haven’t stripped it clean already. Unlike black elderberry (S. nigra), the bitter fruits of this large shrub, though ostensibly edible when cooked, are not tolerated well in quantity by humans. Leave them for the birds!

I have become increasingly enchanted with the airy, branching scapes and little white flowers of native daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus). An annual (or occasionally biennial) pioneer species that spreads easily by seed (and thus appears on agricultural weed lists), it blooms for weeks on end, adding a jaunty bit of lightness to the edges of my path and meadows where it grows 3-4 feet (90-120 cm) tall. It attracts numerous small bees, wasps and syrphid flies. 

In a sense, this fairy crown represents my gardening philosophy:  a little bit tame, a lot wild, and don’t sweat the weeds if the bees can use them. 

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Here are the blogs on my fairy crowns to date:

#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

Fairy Crown #10-June Blues

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My tenth fairy crown for June 10th created at the cottage on Lake Muskoka features an array of flowers picked from my meadows and wildish garden beds. If it’s a little quiet-looking, that’s because it’s still very green in the meadows, and the plants that predominate, such as lupines and blue false indigo (Baptisia australis) are, well, solemnly blue.  Along with those two, my crown has golden Alexanders (Zizia aurea), white nannyberry flowers (Viburnum lentago), white oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum superbum) and the tiny pink flowers of black huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata). And, in an effort to reflect the bad with the good, there are some caterpillar-chewed oak leaves, courtesy of the spongy moth (LDD or gypsy moth) caterpillars.

In fact, it’s a time of year I think of as ‘June blues’; in reality, it’s more lavender-purple, but it’s remarkable that so many plants with similar flower color bloom simultaneously. I fashioned a bouquet one June, setting the finished product in the meadows where the lupines grow. In it were the lupines as well as false blue indigo (Baptisia australis), blue flag iris (Iris versicolor), pale lilac showy penstemon (Penstemon grandiflorus) and a few of my “weeds”, oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) and buttercups (Ranunculus repens).

I grew the lupines from seed – a fairly complex operation that involved soaking the seed in warm water for 24 hours, then planting them in my sandy, acidic soil in a spot at the bottom of a slope that stays damp all the time. Fortunately, it worked and plants that were carefully transplanted and kept watered the first year have self-sown successive generations of new lupines that are very drought-tolerant. This is how they looked in the first few years, though now the big prairie species in the meadow have elbowed them to the margins. Though marketed as the eastern native wild lupine, L. perennis, my plants were in fact likely hybrids with L. polyphyllus from the west coast.  

Nevertheless, they attract numerous queen bumble bees seeking to provision their nests in spring. 

There is something so enticing about lupine flowers, so I like to focus on them with my camera to see what might be hanging out there, whether spiders….

…. or baby grasshoppers. 

Blue false indigo (Baptisia australis) is a North American native plant whose pea-like flowers resemble those of lupine. 

Bushy, it grows to about 4 feet (1.2 m) and is happy in my gravelly, sandy soil on a slope that gathers a little moisture. In autumn, the foliage turns an amazing gunmetal-gray and the seedpods shake with a noise like a rattlesnake’s tail. Its common name derives from its use by Native Americans and settlers as a substitute dye plant for true indigo (Indigofera tinctoria).  So far, it has spread very slowly nearby.

Bumble bees and many other native bees are very fond of Baptisia australis.

If I admitted to liking a plant that is on every state and province’s invasive plant list, I would get into trouble. So I’ll just say that since oxeye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) is on every Muskoka highway margin and dots the old fields in the area, I don’t mind at all if it pops up here too.

It cannot compete with my prairie grasses and perennials in the meadows, but it likes to hang out in spots of unplanted earth and at the edge of the path in front of the cottage, along with weedy buttercups (Ranunculus repens).  There’s a childhood memory of oxeye daisies. I remember sitting in the hayfield across the street from my house in Victoria, British Columbia, pulling the white petals from the flowers as I recited “he loves me, he loves me not” – and, of course, being delighted when I sat with a sad, petal-free flower convinced the boy across the street was my Prince Charming. Buttercups were part of my childhood too; we’d hold them under each other’s chin to see if we liked butter. Yes, butter.  There were no grownups around to tell us it wasn’t the predictive ability of a flower, but the reflective quality of its shiny yellow petals to create this magic.

Sometimes the oxeye daisies pop up near the lupines.

Native hoverflies, short-tongued bees and butterflies often visit the daisies as well.   

But path-cutting through the meadows – a necessity in early summer – quickly makes compost of the weedy buttercups and oxeye daisies… until next year.

I grew my golden alexanders (Zizia aurea) from seed and though quite particular about adequate soil moisture and a location out of hot sun, they are self-sowing here and there.  A short-lived native perennial from the carrot family, they prefer moist prairies and open woodland and are a host plant for black swallowtail caterpillars.

Though nannyberry (Viburnum lentago) is native to woodland in much of the northeast, I planted it behind the cottage in a spot with moist soil where it is shaded during the hottest part of the day.

Each spring, it bears clusters of white flowers that the bees adore, producing dark-blue summer fruit that the birds eagerly consume. Multi-stemmed, it grows to about 15 feet tall (4.6 m) and 10 feet (3 m) wide with glossy leaves (you can see them on my crown) that turn bright red in autumn.

There is a tiny sprig of pink, lantern-shaped flowers sticking up from the top of my fairy crown; they belong to black huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata), a native shrub that grows near the lakeshore where its roots are periodically saturated with water from spring floods. Bumble bees nectar in the flowers, and in August….

…… the shrubs yield dark-blue berries that are sweet, though a little seedy. 

Finally, my crown bears a few oak leaves with and chewed edges.  I made it at the beginning of June 2021, when gypsy moths, aka spongy moths or LDD moths (Lymantria dispar dispar) were beginning to consume the red and white oaks, white pines and many other plants on our hillside…..

….. including my beautiful nannyberry.

It was a devastating and historic predation; by mid-July, the woodlands in our region looked like February, so bare were the deciduous tree branches, below.  (You can read last year’s saga with the gypsy moths on my blog here.)

But abundant summer rainfall nurtured the tree roots and they leafed out again with full canopies in August, though the moths laid abundant eggs on our poor trees once again. This year, we’re in a wait-and-see mode, given our cold days this past winter and the chance that a virus might decimate their population. But I sprayed all the egg masses I could reach on the oaks and pines on our acre a week ago, using my homemade cooking-oil-and-soap spray. Fingers crossed.

But let’s not leave on a sad note.  Here is my deconstructed #10 crown, with its familiar components:  lupine, blue false indigo, oxeye daisy and black huckleberry flowers. And here’s to June!

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Here are all my fairy crowns to date:
#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

Fairy Crown 7 – Columbines & Wild Strawberries on Lake Muskoka

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My 7th fairy crown for late May was created at our cottage on Lake Muskoka, a few hours north of Toronto. It features native wildflowers and fruit: red-flowered eastern columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), common blue violets (Viola sororia), wild strawberry (Fragaria virginiana), lowbush blueberry (Vaccinium angustifolium), the poet’s narcissus (Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus) and a little weed for good measure, yellow rocketcress (Barbarea vulgaris).

If my city garden takes a somewhat naturalistic approach to gardening, it is nonetheless situated in a traditional urban neighborhood. It might be the most flowery front garden on the street, but I’ve worked to make it fit in with the lawns up and down the block by having a hedge as a side boundary; by retaining old clipped boxwood shrubs on either side of the front stairs; and by paying attention to pleasing floral succession, from the earliest snowdrops to the last asters. And my neighbors do love it. In contrast, the meadows and garden beds I created atop Precambrian bedrock at our cottage on Lake Muskoka a few hours north of Toronto are truly wild-looking – and there’s no need to fit in with any neighbors. (I wrote about gardening at the lake in my extensive 2017 blog titled ‘Muskoka Wild’.)

I don’t grow tulips there — they’re just not right for the lake — but my fairy crown for May 20th features the last daffodil of the season, the poet’s daffodil (Narcissus poeticus var. recurvus).

Daffodils grow amazingly well in the acidic, sandy soil here since they love to dry out in summer, popping up each spring amidst the big prairie grasses and forbs.

Besides the poet’s daffodil, one of my favourites is the highly scented Tazetta variety ‘Geranium’, below. 

My grandchildren have all experienced nature on Lake Muskoka. This is Oliver exploring another perfumed daffodil, ‘Fragrant Rose’.

And there is nothing more satisfying than a bouquet of perfumed daffodils on the table in April or May.

On many occasions, I’ve tucked a bunch of daffodils in my bag as I head back to the city.

Daffodils flower concurrently with our little native common blue violet, Viola sororia.

Viola sororia is native to Muskoka, as it is to much of northeast North America. It doesn’t take up a lot of room and grows wherever it pleases, but always with a little shade and moisture at the roots.  

Apart from violets, the landscape here features a large roster of native plants, including the lovely eastern columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) that pops up in the lean, gravelly soil where many plants might struggle. I try to sow seed of this species, being careful to leave the seeds uncovered since light is necessary for germination.

But wild columbine is very particular about where it wants to put down roots, and always surprises me when I see the first, ferny leaves pop up in a new location in spring. 

Hummingbirds are said to enjoy the dainty flowers of eastern columbine, but I confess I’ve never seen them doing so.  I would have to lie in wait on rocky ground by the shore, not as much fun as sitting comfortably on my deck watching them fight over the ‘Black & Bloom’ anise sage (Salvia guaranitica).

Muskoka and wild blueberries just go together naturally, and somebody’s grandmother always made the very best wild blueberry pie in August. In our family, it was my husband’s mother, and she taught her grandkids her secret recipe, including my daughter. So I’m always happy to see the queen bumble bee pollinating those first wild blueberry (Vaccinium angustifolium) flowers in May.

But just in case the chipmunks find our berries before we do, we always make a stop at the wild blueberry stand on the way to the cottage from town.

Wild strawberries (Fragaria virginiana) bloom in Muskoka now, too, and on parts of my path above the lake they form a perennial groundcover so dense that I am sometimes afraid to step into their midst, lest I damage them.

But there are always enough strawberries ripening months later to make my grandkids pause on their way to the lake to sample the fruit…

…tiny, admittedly, but oh-so-sweet and juicy.

Similarly, May is when the dark-pink flowers of black huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata) adorn the shrubs in the shade of the white pines along the lakeshore.  The deep-purple fruit will ripen in August and though somewhat seedy, it is sweet and good for eating raw or baking.

There’s a native serviceberry here at the lake too, but don’t expect to see billowing clouds of white flowers like those big species further south. Its Latin name Amelanchier humilis gives a clue as to its shape, “low, spreading serviceberry”.  Still, native andrena bees love nectaring on it in May, as do the bumble bee queens, which nonetheless must remain wary of  crab spiders looking for their own meals.

My crown’s golden jewels are flowers of the common European weed in the mustard family, yellow rocketcress (Barbarea vulgaris). In Europe, it’s called ‘rocket’ or ‘bittercress’, suggesting a strong-tasting, edible green. Indeed, my foraging friends would recommend picking the basal leaves as they emerge in spring or the rapini-like flower buds (raab) to cook in recipes.  Failing that, just wait for the mustard-yellow flowers to appear and wear them in your fairy crown!

I use my smallest vases to display these delicate blossoms of spring on the table – a welcome celebration of nature’s return to the shore of a lake that was thick with ice just weeks earlier

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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