Dusk

I saw him just after dark, walking up the street, a dark figure on thin bent legs. His slacks were black with a sharp crease and his brogues were shiny and black. I froze in the driveway, willing him not to see me. I should have known he'd be back.

My garden has kept him at bay for 10 years. I planted to the edge on all sides, as I know he does not prefer to cross the plants. Now I see that the driveway grants him a portal. Him with his dark suit. I didn't see his eyes, but I sense they are sharp and blue, cold and keen, observant.

Ten years ago, he came to me often in dreams, a shapeless darkness outside a small room encased in walnut paneling. I stood silently wishing him to go away. Once there was a telephone in the room and in a brave or desperate moment I picked up the receiver. A dark hand reached through a small window and grabbed it away.

I should have known he was coming. The latest issue of of Birds and Blooms remained for days on the kitchen counter, wrapped in its plastic mailing, despite the alluring bluebird on the cover. And when I spoke to a visitor this week, my unconscious remarked that gardens were boring, a shock to both of us.

This morning, I planted three Virginia bluebells along the stone path even though I knew it would make me late for work. I reasoned that rain was predicted for today. Perhaps I also remembered that he does not like to cross the plants

Sweet Wild Things

My sister Katie emailed me this morning to ask if I could update my blog, the first inquiry anyone has made. Katie is an organic farmer in Cloverdale, west of Indianapolis, and shares my interest in native plants and pollinators. I sent her my blog link to help ease a loss in her life. I pray my muse is with me today because this post is for Katie.

Background

It stopped raining last July and the Southeast experienced the worst drought since the 1930's. We were forbidden to water outdoors, except using rainwater, which took a toll on gardens. Since rain began in February, we have been upgraded from the 5th and worst stage of drought (exceptional) to the 4th stage (extreme). Here's what is happening to my garden survivors:

Sanguinaria canadensis

The bloodroot trail is in tatters. All of the newly planted ones are gone and only half of the long established colony returned this year. Still, this small patch along the driveway looked spectacular this afternoon.

Senecio aureus

The misfortunately named golden ragwort is a strong grower and a welcome sight in March, during the last few of weeks of winter. These were deprived of water in the summer and fall, trampled by the landscaper in the winter, then transplanted to new soil beside the path, where they have revived.

Hepatica acutiloba

Beside the driveway, this hepatica looked sweet this afternoon, but never as nice as in photos on the internet.


Aquilegia canadensis

The blue-green foliage on columbine is so pretty, it doesn't need to bloom to look good. Here it is used as a groundcover on a gentle slope in the backyard. After it blooms and goes to seed, I enjoy shaking the seeds out of the pods, listening to the shishing.

Viola cornuta

I planted these Johnny jump-ups in February because the landscaper said he was coming back to take pictures of the new stone path and I wanted something to be blooming. I don't know if he came back but these flowers welcome visitors to the door.

Aesculus pavia

The best photo of the red buckeye comes the day before the buds open. I have long wanted to photograph the huge pink scaled buds, but when I reach the critical day, I try to wait until the light is perfect, then I forget to do it. I so admire people with beautiful photos on their blogs.

Caninus vomitoria

My sweet dog Sadie, who is home sick today with a stomach virus. I went home to check on her at lunchtime and she helped me take these photos.

Hellebores

After the landscaper finished the new stone pathway to the front door, I asked for a small raised bed in front of the porch. He brought a pallet of mossy stones and some topsoil mixed with compost. When he was finished, a neighbor remarked that the bed looked as if it had always been there. A fine compliment to his work.

This planting area is sheltered between the porch and a stand of mature trees. Dry shade is a challenge here. In other parts of my garden, I have solved dry shade conditions by using spring wildflowers like mayapple and columbine, or false Solomons seal and woodland aster. In the most challenging areas, only vines like Virginia creeper or crossvine can survive. These are all native plants, as has been my focus for many years.

That was before I bought my first hellebore. Two years ago I attended the winter open house at a local mail order nursery. I was tempted by aHeronswood hybrid in pink. The next year, I bought a yellow one. Then friends gave me seedlings they had dug from their yards.

I confess, I love this plant. The foliage stays fresh and green, even in the heat and humidity of our NC summers. And in late January, when the holidays are over and winter seems long, dark and cold, the hellebores begin to bloom. I check them every day, as they can be easily seen through the living room window.

I wish hellebores were native. I searched the internet to see if they were valuable to wildlife. The only websites that made that claim were from England, where Helleborus foetidus is said to be native. I also read that many other hellebores originated in the Balkans as did my grandparents many years before.

Then yesterday I was sitting on our front porch admiring the hellebores, when a hover fly landed at my feet. It surveyed the hellebore flowers and flew off again. Are hellebores useless beauties or winter pollen providers? When I see seedlings, I'll know.