Reading With Teza: Book Review: The Plant Lovers Guide To Epimedium

With close to twenty different cultivars, ranging in half dozen species of Epimedium growing here at Teza's Garden, one might say that I have a slight addiction! Already in ownership of what I consider to be the penultimate monograph on the genus, the late William T. Stearn's, 'The Genus Epimedium And Other Herbaceous Berberidaceae Including The Genus Podophyllum,' [which was originally published in 1938] I was more than curious to see what Timber Press might offer in Sally Gregson's, 'The Plant Lovers Guide to Epimedium,' the latest in a new series of books under the moniker 'The Plant Lovers Guide.' 

Sally Gregson is an accomplished gardener and nursery owner in the UK, whose reputation is based largely on her extensive knowledge of the genus Hydrangea, but as is clearly in evidence in the pages of this book, she too has been bitten by the Epimedium craze that is sweeping the gardening world. The book is laden with sumptuous photographs of this most beguiling of garden plants, and the text is divided into straightforward sections that include: Designing With Bishop's Hats, Barrenworts and Fairy Wings; [all common slang for the genus Epimedium itself] 123 Epimediums for the Garden; Growing and Propagating, and People, Places and Plants. Whereas the aforementioned book by Mr. Stearn is of a more academically inspired format, this book is quite satisfactory for not only the botanist, but also for the entry level gardener.

The bulk of the book describes one hundred and twenty three of what I assume to be readily available species and cultivars that are currently available in hort commerce. [Luckily for me, I am driving distance from a woodland nursery that carries well over one hundred different varieties!] Each plant is accompanied by a photograph, with text describing the 'history' including the specifics in regards to zone, height and spread, and flower shape and colour. I was impressed by the number of species and cultivars that exist today that were not part of William T. Stearn's monograph! Mrs Gregson further extols her knowledge by offering numerous companion planting schemes for the various species and cultivars that she covers within the text. 

The remaining section discusses the history of the plant, including its medicinal past as well as the introduction of the latest wave of plants emerging from the wilds of China, thanks in large part to the efforts of plantsmen Darrell Probst and Roy Lancaster. She continues by introducing readers to the most up-to-date hybridists who continue to provide gardeners with newer and more exciting Chinese species. Rounding out is a listing of available retailers which I hope is something that fellow garden writers will embrace. How rewarding and inspiring is it to know where one might be able to find some of the intoxicating plants that are mentioned in a book. Kudos Sally!

Overall, 'The Plant Lovers Guide to Epimedium' impressed! I am somewhat of a perfectionist when it comes to garden writing - eschewing the use of common names, and in many cases, the over use of photography - so was most grateful for the abundance of both botanical Latin, and in this instance the lavish presentation of photographs, as in my experience with this most beguiling of genus, it means a great deal when I am able to see the actual shape and colour of a flower within a genus of near endless possibility! My only complaint is the use of the word 'Epimediums' on the cover - Epimedium refers to the genus, which includes all species and cultivars, so there is no need to pluralize the word! This book makes for a wonderful 'companion' to my aforementioned book on what has quickly becomes one of my all time favourite genera. I must include my thanks to Larry Davidson, Ontario's own guru of all things Epimedium for encouraging me to add this wonderful plant to my horticultural lexicon! I am the addict, and he is my most appreciated enabler, as well as Thomas Allen Publishing for generously providing me with a promotional copy of this wonderful book. I have included three photographs of my own personal favourites from my own garden. 

Around The World In My Garden

When people ask me how I spent my winter, and more specifically, did I travel anywhere uniquely exciting, a small part of me wants to ask why on Earth would I desire to travel anywhere, when by simply sitting and observing my garden, I have the rare opportunity to traverse the world over! Seriously, I do, and more than likely, every fellow gardener is afforded the same opportunity.

I have always wanted to travel to China, if only to revel and bask in the beauty and majesty of that which is their flora. If pressed to name the one nationality that best represents my garden repertoire, it would undoubtedly be China! Other countries include Japan, Korea, the Balkan region of Yugoslavia, and yes, even our beloved North America! Shall we, on this first official day of Spring venture forth on a botanical expedition of sorts, all from the comfort of my postage stamp sized property here in Fergus, Ontario!

My signature plant, Corydalis flexuosa, and in this instance, the cultivar 'Blue Panda' is endemic to the mountainous valleys of China, and specifically to the Wenchuan Wolong Nature Reserve of Sichuan Province. Few flowers rival it's icy blue colour, even those within its own ranks as a species! It has a temperamental disposition - despising anything remotely 'humid', and with the proclivity to go dormant at the first sign of unhappiness. A humus rich, consistently moist soil in partial shade is not a mere suggestion, it is a necessity if you wish to be rewarded with photos like the one above! 

I am all about the rare and unusual, and with a shadier disposition than some gardeners, I have come to rely on plants whose main attribute is their unique foliage! Few come close to the bizarre shredded appearance of Syneilesis aconitifolia. As it emerges from the ground in early Spring, a clump of it can be best described as a miniature green army of what appears to be shredded umbrellas! Would a plastic version not be the perfect 'little green umbrella' to adorn fancy alcoholic drinks at a hort convention! Seriously! Endemic to the Korean peninsula, and extending to the Japanese archipelago, it remains a much sought after Holy Grail selection. I was over the moon to be able to offer this beguiling plant to my nursery customers this past Summer, where it was quickly snatched up off the benches within hours of its appearance. Lucky for me, I am able to admire and propagate it from within the confines of my own garden! 

Is anyone feeling slightly jet lagged? All ready we have visited China, Korea and Japan, and haven't even broken a sweat yet! Methinks I could come to enjoy this form of globe trotting!

One of the earliest plants to emerge here at Teza's Garden, are my two species of Kirengeshoma - both K. palmata and K. koreana. Commonly referred to as 'yellow wax bells' - they form a formidable clump of gloriously palmate foliage with tall stems that are adorned with waxy yellow shuttlecock shaped flowers from July through to September depending on the species that you cultivate. I of course grow both, and am always pleasantly surprised to see K. koreana in flower up to a month sooner than its cousin. It's flowers are more pronounced and have a more upright facing habit. Koreana palmata is endemic on Shikoku and Kyushu Islands of Japan, while its cousin is, as its name suggests is found in Korea. Aside of my many Aconitum species, Kirengeshoma is the first of my Asian children to break dormancy each Spring!

I thought it best to return to more familiar locales, and the next two plants are what we North Americans would refer to as 'natives' - in the most politically minded sense of the word of course! There isn't a summer goes by when some visitor or other doesn't squeal with delight when they stumble upon Spigelia marilandica, and rightfully so!  It does have a decidedly wildflower like appearance to it, but it is the unique bright yellow star that sits atop its scarlet red tubular flower base that causes such a stir! Endemic to the mid west and eastern parts of North America, it was once used heavily as a medicinal by Native Americans who referred to it as Indian Pinks. A fabulous, shrubby presentation of bluish green foliage, it can form delightful clumps consisting of literally hundreds of tubular red flowers with their charming floating yellow stars within a few years of happy placement. If you want hummingbirds in your garden, you MUST grow Spigelia!

While many gardeners have adopted to grow only North American native plants, it is worth reminding people of the threat that these very plants face as more and more people have taken to removing them from their natural habitats to watch them shrivel and die in their own gardens. Please, if you choose to add these most regal and majestic beauties to your garden, ensure that you are purchasing them from a reputable grower, or, as some have done, try growing them from seed! The results will be all the more sentimental.

Trillium grandiflorum is the official flower of Ontario, and is readily on display throughout our woodlands. It is also the flower of Ohio which in part regales its Eastern North American habitat. It is like a trinity of sorts, with three leaves and three pristine white petals. Of course there are many other Trillium species, in colours ranging from pink, red, and even yellow - all of which bloom happily during the early Spring days here at Teza's Garden. 

The most regal, and most commented upon 'native' is without a doubt Cypripedium reginae, another North American native that is found in damp, swampy, boggy regions from Manitoba through to Newfoundland, and southwards through Missouri, Tennessee and Georgia. It is another of the Spring ephemerals with a sublimely gorgeous pink pouch beneath pristine white sepals, not to mention the deeply pleated, slightly tomentose foliage - all combining for one of my favourite photo compositions in the garden! When she is in bloom, like the regal Queen that she is, she is capable of bringing everyone to their knees in supplicating adoration! All hale Queen Reginae.  

 Because of the shape of its leaf, the large palmately pointed surface area, and the dip in it's centre, every time it rains, I am rewarded with the image below. I daydream that this is where the fey come to bathe while the rest of the world is still enshrouded in slumber. Diphylleia cymosa is yet another of my North American genera. It forms formidable clumps when happy, requiring annual composting [a heavy feeder] and consistent moisture throughout the hot, humid summers. It makes the perfect foil for the beguiling shredded appearance of Syneilesis and the results always stop visitors in their tracks!

Now boarding at Gate 3 for Japan! While I do not have a lot of space on my property, I would not be without Corylopsis spicata, native to Central Japan. Its pendulous  buttery yellow and rush coloured flowers appear for weeks on end in early May, followed by handsome bright green ovate foliage. It does tend to have a somewhat ungainly growth habit, but it is easily overlooked and remedied with prudent pruning to maintain a somewhat open, but contained habit. I much prefer it to its cousin Hamamelis, the ubiquitous 'witch hazel.'

I am about to embark upon my latest botanical obsession - that of the genus Erythronium. I vividly remember innocently stumbling upon great seemingly magical swathes of them in the woodlands of southern Ontario while a child in the care of my Grandparents. Those of course were the bright yellow flowering Erythronium americanum. A new monograph on the genus espouses that there are now well over one hundred different varieties available, of which I currently grow a mere three. The pink flowering species E. dens canis and E, revolutum, and the stunning whipped buttery yellow E. japonicum which was sold to me as a pink flowering form, which bloomed the colour of morning sunshine. Apparently it is a rarity, which places it perfectly in my loving care! The lance like Spring foliage is heavily mottled with brown and purple, making it's appearance something to look forward to every Spring!

At one time, Metasequoia was thought to have been extinct, but then it was re-discovered in China, and now we are once again able to enjoy its staggering beauty. Soft needle like foliage appears in early Spring and pending on the species that you grow, ranges in colour from green, variegated, bronze and as is the case with mine, you can also own a golden one. I remember reading The Golden Spruce, in which a rare, one of a kind sitka spruce was maliciously cut down in British Columbia. Shortly thereafter I witnessed my first golden Metasequoia and I knew without a doubt that I had to own one. Four years later, it acts as a directional beacon for visitors..... 'look for the golden dawn redwood in the front yard!' 

If we traverse to Nepal and Tibet, we stumble upon that which remains one of the most hallowedly revered horticultural prizes: the legendary, oh so temperamental blue Himalayan poppy. There is no other plant that inspires such mixed emotions within the heart and soul of gardeners world wide. Everyone covets it - willing to sell child and soul to own one, but in the blink of an eye they curse it, beating their chest, confounded as to why it bloomed for one season and then disappeared from the garden virtually overnight. Welcome to the entity of the monocarpic: it will bloom, and perhaps set seed and then wither and die. I have spent close to a decade trying to keep one or three happy in my garden, and it was only two years ago was I able to revel in the reality of having mastered [ever so briefly, we're monocarpic remember!] this beguiling gem. The fact that I purposefully planted it beneath my golden Metasequoia was for the precise reason that I was able to snap the photo below. Vanity thy name is Teza!

So many Epimedium, so little time! At last count I cultivate twenty three different varieties, and thanks to the work of plantsmen like Darrell Probst for discovering them, and Larry Davidson for supplying them to me...... I fear I will be retiring in the poor house along with my Epimedium collection! Most are native to Asia, more common in China than Japan, and I have even stumbled across some supposed North American species. Nothing, absolutely nothing comes close to witnessing their tiny, delicately airy flowers ranging in colour from white to near black as they open during the early days of Spring. The foliage display that comes shortly thereafter is as exciting if not even more so! Mottled brownish, reddish, purple leaves in an assortment of shapes ranging from near heart shaped to zig zagged and spiny..... all said it is one of the most exciting genera that I grow and one that continues to expand with each passing garden season!

It is without a doubt one of my most commented upon, most sought after photographs that make up my garden children's portrait collection. It was a total and utter fluke! I was lying on the ground, trying to capture a cluster of three flowers, heard the unmistakable buzzing of a bee, jumped up and had the camera go off in the process. On my Father's and Grandmother's graves, I swear an oath! I could not reproduce it if I tried, but it comes close to being the perfect representation of why I am so enamoured of Deinanthe caerulea. The cluster of silver tipped, purple stamens and the same purple blush to the petals of each flower. Sublime! Originally discovered by Irish plantsman Augustine Henry in China's Hubei Province, it is a distant relative to the ubiquitous garden Hydrangea. Rich green, coriaceous foliage appears in pairs along stems to 1m in height, and are topped with dazzling flowers that when clustered together, do in fact resemble those of the aforementioned Hydrangea. It too benefits from an annual supplementation of compost, and in my garden has quadruped its size as a clump in as many years! There is a Japanese counterpart, Deinanthe bifida which I also cultivate with white to pink blushed flowers, but my heart steadfastly remains enamoured to the aforementioned. 

We all have favourite names: I am preferential to Sebastian and Tristan [the names of a pair of Siberian Neva Masquerade kittens I am destined to own at some point in my life!] and when it comes to plants, one of my all time favourite names also belongs to one of my favourite Spring ephemerals: Glaucidium palmatum. Say the name again! I might go so far as to name a pet after this stunningly gorgeous plant. Aside of the Iris and Narcissus, it is the first thing to bloom in the garden - often under the direct threat of frost! Endemic to northern Japan, it possesses what I consider to be the most pristine of all foliage - decidedly palmate, mint green in colour. They can be 15cm in diameter, and grow distinctively smaller and less lobed as they ascend the stem. Slightly nodding, satiny lavender flowers are produced in the early days of May. 

Damn! Just discovered that my passport will need to renewed this year, along with the license, but hopefully we can get the last of our globetrotting done before that becomes a necessity! I am always pleasantly surprised, yet saddened at the same time when I read where a plant is endemic to such and such a place, but that it is rarely found in the wilds anymore! It shows the greed that exists, even in such a nature based business that horticulture should be! 

Anemonopsis macrophylla has, over the course of the last three years become my most requested and commented upon plant within the garden's repertoire. It is indeed something quite unlike most other plants that grow here. I spend weeks on end agonizing over the tightly sealed buds, waiting ever so patiently for their colour to turn from green to a mauvish white before opening to reveal the most beautiful flowers imaginable. The name itself brings to mind the shape of an Anemone, but this precocious charmer is a thousand times more beautiful. It is native to the mountainous woods of Honshu, Japan, though, sadly it is a rare sight to see it in the wild!

When it comes to the genus Polygonatum, the lines seem to scatter on the world map: China, Japan, Tibet, Nepal and Korea. I have a thing for Polygonatum and have no less than a dozen delightful species on my property, the crowned Prince among them being Polygonatum x hybridum 'Betberg' which originates in a plantsman's garden in Germany. Tall, thick stems are elegantly clothed in deeply pleated thin foliage that emerges a deep dusky wine-brown colour and gradually turns to the more recognized green as the season progresses. As with many within this varied genus, it is very quick to bulk up which is a good thing as I have a list of garden friends who are all hoping for the day when I will be able to share this rare and unique specimen with them. [Joy of my heart is first in line, and I am certain I will be able to spare some this summer!]

Irish plantsman Augustine Henry is also responsible for another of my favourites - in the form of Saruma henryi, a beguiling Chinese perennial with heart shaped, Asarum like foliage that is felt like to the touch and is topped with beguiling sunshine yellow flowers throughout the season. It emerges with a purple tint to its foliage in the Spring, and when happy will reward you with large, healthy, thriving clumps in a few short years! 

The Japanese terrestrial ground orchid Bletilla striata is one of my all time favourites where orchids are concerned. It's narrow, lance shaped, slightly veined foliage is reminiscent of that of the Iris, but its flower is one of the most tropically inspired that I grow. That pouting lower lip [pouch] wins gardeners over every time. It needs a few years to settle into the garden, and is also a heavy feeder, but when it is happy, it shows it in the only way it knows how..... bloom after bloom for months on end. There are white, two tone, and from what I can deduce, one that is decidedly bluish purple , known as Penway Dragon, which of course is on my wishlist!

China is the final destination on our journey, as it is here that most of my most beloved Arisaema species originated. I first set eyes upon our North American species, A. triphyllum, in the darkling wood of southern Ontario, and have been enthralled with this seemingly sinister, viper like genus ever since! As more and more Asian beauties made themselves available, I soon found myself with a veritable clutch of them on my property. Two of my all time favourites include Arisaema thunbergii var. Urashima, pictured directly below. Widespread through the woodlands of Japan, it is also known as the 'Dominatrix', perhaps because of the extra long whip like spadix that rises up beyond the spathe, before dipping down towards the ground. I love the colouration of this one: the deep purple, near black spathes eventually lighten with a decidedly reptilian presence.

Not all serpents are menacing! I absolutely adore the pristine white, pink and green striped spathes on what I consider to be the Princess of the genus - Arisaema candidissimum! It is without a doubt one of the most sought after of all available species. Its large trifoliate leaf often obscures the flowers, but when you have a clutch of them, its ever so easy to understand why people are so persistent when they ask for a 'ever so small division: you won't even miss it!' Ummm, no!

And there you have it: the world inside my garden here at Teza's Hortus Magnificum - or, at least, part of it. It truly makes for a fascinating adventure, and one might I add, that you can embark upon from the comforts of home. 

My Name Is Teza, And I Am An Addict!

Love the Life Under the Leaf

Shape of leaf, texture, colour hues - all are important elements when one sets out to design a garden. I have heard too many people exclaim: 'But there is so much green!' - to which I want to reply: ' but of course there is, its a bloody garden, and without the green there is no photosynthesis!' - but the wolf in me refrains.

These same elements become even more important when you are creating a shade or woodland garden. Most all plants require some degree of sunlight, be it dappled or full on blazing, and with this sunlight comes flowers. This is perhaps the most important rule of all. One must always ask themselves this: 'Are flowers really that important to me?' If the answer is an unequivocal YES! YES! YES! [Did Meg Ryan just pop up in your mind as well?!?] one might reconsider starting off in deep shade! But for those who prefer a more subtle approach to gardening, continue onwards!

Shape and texture: Vitally important elements when designing any garden, but even more so when your main focus is going to be on foliage. As the title of this post makes evidently clear, one must in fact 'love the life under the leaf!' In all of the corresponding photos you will note that indeed there are innumerable shades of green - from the bright apple, to the dark and glossy, as appears in the above photo courtesy of one of my all time favourite foliage plants - Syneilesis aconitifolia which to many looks like a glossy albeit shredded umbrella. More visitors comment about it than do my prized Cypripediums!

Layering is also important. For some it is an art form, for others it is simply a reality. I fall into the latter. I am pressed for room. I have an addiction for the rare and unusual shade perennial. I work at a nursery and have direct access to another nearby specialty nursery. I am an addict, and like most, I have my enablers close by me at all times! Staggering plant heights adds a sense of depth to even the smallest property. In this staggered dance, it is important to consider the shape of the surrounding foliage, the colour, and if perhaps you're lucky to have found something that might even bloom. In the photos above and below the width of the gardening space is roughly the span of both of my arms. It is the long and narrow space between mine and a neighbouring house. Very little sunlight is able to penetrate this space, usually mid morning and late afternoon for what might be a total of three hours. Into this space I have planted no less than one hundred and fifty different plants, ranging from a native Cercis canadensis [for maximum allowable height] down to my prized Hepatica transsilvanica 'Buis' which is but 30cm in height. These photos do not include the presence of flowers, but the keen gardening eye will deduce that indeed I have a few. While my Asian Arisaema [he of the large starburst shaped leaf below] does not 'flower' per se, he does put forth a stunning cobra shaped spathe, which many mistake as a flower. I also grow both species of Kirengeshoma in this section of the garden - both of considerable stature [this year they were both close to 1.5m in height] and both providing me with late season waxy yellow, shuttlecock shaped flowers. Their distinctly palmate shaped foliage [the Korean species has a subtle pewter overlay] provides a perfect foil for the narrow foliage of the Arisaema.

A rose is a rose is a rose, but one must not use the same broad stroke of the brush when describing the colour green. Below is the mid Spring foliage of my beloved Cercis canadensis. Green? Most definitely, but nothing at all like the bluish silvery green of my Arisaema. The juxtaposition between the two perfectly highlights the meaning of the term hue. While one has a cool, almost frosty appearance, the other seems almost golden. When you're at your local nursery this coming Spring stop and look at the various hues of green that are on display. Forget about the flowers for a moment, and simply take in the plethora of greens that are available. Its kind of like painting the interior of your home. Some people want to go bold - no two rooms even remotely alike, while others wish to carry a specific hue throughout. 

I tend to adhere to the go big, go bold, or go to hell home mentality when it comes to gardening, which in and of itself is more than ironic, considering the postage stamp size of the property on which I garden. Big bold leaf surface [as seen in the third photo which includes Diphylleia cymosa and my favoured Syneilesis] is my first weapon of choice. Stop people in their tracks! There is also a sublime ornamental rhubarb that is a guaranteed crowd stopper/pleaser, but sadly I haven't the space! The use of variegation is also a way of slowing down the eye. I use it sparingly throughout my shade garden, as to me it looks slightly contrived. My two favourite stars are Polygonatum x hybridum 'Variegata' [below] and the charming fellow directly below it. Bright colours like my signature 'fabulously' chartreuse is also an option that provides that WOW factor. The perennial grass Hakonechloa macra 'All Gold' is a wonderful choice, as is the much larger, bolder Aralia cordata 'Sun King' which I have planted at least three of in the past two years. It maintains a shadier disposition and can grow in excess of 2m in height. The trick to keeping him smaller is to prune and divide every three years and not provide as much water as you think he would like. Trust me, he likes moisture, and he responds in the only way he knows how...... vavoom!

A small space does not necessarily rule out trees and shrubs. As I mentioned earlier, I do have a Cercis canadensis planted here between the houses, as well as a coppiced Cotinus coggygria 'Grace' which is seen in the upper left corner of the photo below. She started off as a multi stemmed shrub, and as she grew, she provided me with more shade - which is something that I had wanted. Call me a shrinking violet [on second thought pansy!] but I do not do well in sunshine and humidity. This past year she eclipsed the 2.5m mark. Her deep burgundy Spring foliage works so well against the siding on the house, and is the perfect foil for the fabulously chartreuse beauty of my golden Metasequoia. [One must always be three steps ahead in the game of garden design!] The wee variegated lad in the above photo is one of my all time prized possessions: Acer campestre 'Carnival' first crossed my path at Lost Horizons in nearby Acton. He is a diminutive species [2m] with sublimely variegated foliage that in Spring also includes pinkish tones to accentuate the existing cream and mint green. I have seen standard versions, but much prefer my dwarf sized specimen.

It is a lot of fun, and yes, it does include a fair amount of work, but in the end, there is so much beauty that can exist in a shaded, woodland type garden. I hope that more gardeners will be willing to embrace their shadier selves, and will lift the word shade up and out of the negative connotation that I still run across. I like to tell people that its the one spot in the garden where, even on the hottest and sunniest of days, you lose the risk of sunburn and unwanted perspiration, and its also the perfect hiding spot from those pesky door to door types. The grass is delightfully greener on the shadier side of life!

The Fluidity of Time In The Garden

I have spent much of the past two months walking the local cataract trails, had my nose stuck in a fair number of books of varying subject matter, and still I am finding it difficult to throw off our simian nature, adopt instead that of my totem, the wolf, and learn to live in the moment - the precise here and now. We tend to look 'through' the moments, gazing forward and back, but never staying in the here and now. 

And then I was going through my catalogue of garden pictures and was thrilled to discover that while they are so far as time is concerned, in the past, they are also, each and every one of them a moment in time, albeit one that has been forever frozen. 

I should like to postulate that time is circular, and as such maintains much the same momentum year after year. I need only look at my garden to find support for such an assumption. My garden comes to life every Spring, flourishes throughout the Summer, enters into it's gentle decline come Fall, and disappears ever so briefly during it's Winter hibernation. It repeats this process during a specific measurement of time, but it is this very circular [cyclical] nature that I am most comforted [and thus happy] with.

If we remove the passage of time from the garden equation, we are left with moments of incredulous beauty - moments that would hopefully be emblazoned on the mind's surface. Sadly, the simian nature of humanity chooses to look 'through', 'behind', and 'around' these moments - never content with the now! I am desperately trying to eradicate the simian mentality and replace it with that of the wolf - the lupin way of looking at life. Desires, wants and emotions give way to logic and reason. A wolf does not look at its future or its past, nor is it driven by, or held victim to its emotions. The moment that is precisely before its eyes is all that matters. I would like to say that I am most like the wolf when I am in my garden. The here and the now trump out everything else that is happening in the world around me. The lens of my camera, and subconsciously my own mind's eye is drawn to those moments that lay waiting for my discovery. There is no quest involved. How many missed opportunities do you think lay before a gardener each and every time they walk into their garden, regardless of the season, or time of day? 

The photos that make up this post represent such moments. They were there. The eye and the mind stumbled upon them and time as we know it stood still long enough for the rapid fire opening and closing of a shutter, the capture of a moment, at which point, I was contentedly at my happiest! There were no power struggles, none of the 'what can you do for me' manipulative maneuverings that the simian mindset embraces. It was a moment of unadulterated beauty - a moment that, were those brief seconds all there truly was to life, and would be repeated time and time again, for me would result in perpetual bliss! I look forward to these repetitive occurrences in the garden. Case in point: the photo above is of Trifolium repans, a smashing member of the 'clover' family. I wait, year after year for this precise moment that is forever frozen in this picture - when the first of the fuzzy flower heads emerge. They truly are as silkily soft as they appear. This year, my newest neighbour took it upon himself to tidy up his front yard [this after moving the vehicle that was parked on the front lawn for two months straight!] and in the process he trimmed what he took for a clump of clover. In an instant it was gone. It valiantly tried to grow back, but in that single blink of an eye all was changed. I mourned its loss as though it were a family member. Of course to me it is a family member. I realized that I missed the familiarity of witnessing its beauty week upon week throughout July. My only solace came in knowing that it would be there next year. The loop would repeat itself [theoretically, barring any unforeseen garden calamities!] and I would be 'content' once again. All of this fuels my belief that the onset and current onslaught of technology does not allow for people to experience contentedness in their lives. Stand still for longer than a second, and you find yourself left behind......

 ..... in the garden.....

..... in the midst of all of this beauty.....

..... to be able to witness....

..... moment after moment.....

..... moment after moment.....

..... each moment unto itself.....