Yellow Suburban Annunciation''

 'Remember the afternoon's yellow suburban annunciation. Your

goalie in his frightening mask dreams perhaps of

gentleness.'

Canadian poet and author Michael Ondaatje quotes the above stanza in his poem 'To A Sad Daughter,' one that I studied in Uni English with the late Professor Constance Rooke. Both professor and poem have left a lasting impression on me. Yellow is not a colour that I am fond of. Or wasn't fond of until my garden steered me away from such blasphemous thinking!

In the sweltering Summer months I will do just about anything to escape from the sweltering heat of the sun, that giant yellow orb that casts it's rays down upon me, burning my skin to a bright crimson within minutes. And then in the Winter months I bemoan its disappearance, an absence felt all the more acutely with the presence of SAD. MY diva like dichotomies leave me askance! 

Yellow is the colour I most associate with Spring! My old fashioned Primula veris are one of the first flowers to bloom, and their getle whipped buttery yellow presence never fails to bring a smile to my face! My garden started off with a minimum of yellow - the diminutive Iris reticulata with their golden crests, a majestic towering Aconitum species with a yellowish-apple green flower that looks more like a smurf cap than the helmet shaped blooms of its purple cousins, and the waxy, shuttlecock flowers of Kirengeshoma as pictured below. That was about it.

And then came the comments. 'You don't have very much yellow in the garden do you? Do you not think it would help to brighten up some of these shaded corners? So much blue, but so very little yellow? You're missing out my friend!' Looking back I remember thinking to myself, 'And this is precisely why I do not invite people to my garden!' But then I got to thinking.... and thinking, and then out of nowhere something rather startling began to occur.

I would like to think that it started out softly and subtly, sort of like the soft yellow of my beloved Paeonia x 'Going Bananas' or one of my all time favourite Daniel Hinkley inspired finds - Disporum uniflorum. They definitely do add a pleasant pop of colour to the garden!

 There is a cheerfulness to having pops of yellow scattered here and there. I also enjoy when they act as a cheerful accessory for a plant. There is no denying that I grow Saruma henryi [aside of for its hilarious name!] for its gorgeous felted heart shaped foliage. Its wonderful cheery yellow flowers add a dainty charm, often causing visitors to stop and comment as to its identity. 

Euphorbia is one of my favourite genera. One of my favourite is 'Bonfire' which breaks through the thawed Spring soil as a mass of velvety purplish red foliage. It it ages, it loses some of the rich coloration, but then out of nowhere - bam! Bright, almost screaming yellow 'flowers' appear for weeks on end.

The regal beauty of Cypripedium calceolaris speaks for itself. The winy brownish colour of its sepals when cast against the golden yellow of its delicate pouch is reason for rejoice every time I gaze upon it. I think I am mellowing in my newfound appreciation of yellow!

The most commented upon member of my ever growing Epimedium collection is the one pictured below: Epimedium 'Windfire' - with its canary yellow delicate, airy flowers that are infused with a red marking on the reverse of each bloom. 

 I do not think I could be without this most vibrant of colours here at Teza's Garden. While blue will forever reign supreme, yellow is definitely a necessity in the garden! Lesson learned most pleasantly! How much yellow do you have in your garden?