Everything's soberly clad in tones of dark pine green, slate gray, ice blue, and brown. But surprisingly, we're seeing some lime-green spears of spring color here and there. They're not the usual suspects, either, such as crocuses, primroses, and hellebores.
Somehow, the message that we're going to have a very cold, snowy, hard winter in the Pacific Northwest didn't get through to assorted plants--or else they know something we don't. Or they're just tougher than we think.
It's odd to see these sparks of life just steps away from, say, a towering oak tree still rattling with dry brown leaves or clumps of exotic grasses that resemble fistfuls of ice needles.
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| I'm pretty sure these are daffodils poking their heads up from the sodden soil and leaf litter, though they look a lot like those eerie giant tube worms that live deep in the ocean around hydrothermal vents. We had record-setting warm temperatures in January last year, with daffodils blooming mid-month, so perhaps this patch of flowers is giddy with that memory. |
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| The garden is spiked with crocosmia that I wouldn't have expected to see just yet--it seems as if they'd just faded away yesterday and really should go back to bed for another 40 winks. |
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| Here's one I'm not surprised to see on the verge of blooming: these are the flower buds of a V. tinus "Spring Bouquet." Its name notwithstanding, it typically blooms in winter. How do I love this plant? Let me count the ways: pretty, understated flowers; purple-black berries that hang on for months; bright evergreen foliage; thrives on little water; doesn't get woody and stalky; asks for nothing and gives a lot in return. |
