'Remember the afternoon's yellow suburban annunciation. Your
goalie in his frightening mask dreams perhaps of
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!
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!
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.