I swear officer, this bouquet was just hanging on the fence next door…

Fresh today:   Clematis armandii ‘Apple Blossom’

My abiding gratitude to Roger and Nikki, next door, who offer such generous friendship and who continually allow me to harvest from their yard’s seasonal flowering bounty.

PS: To all of my friends who have been following along for four years now as we’ve gathered stories and pictures and then woven them into this newly born book, The 50 Mile Bouquet, I can very proudly say that Amazon has been shipping copies for a few days now ( a few friends have let me know that theirs have arrived already), and that many of your local bookstores and nurseries should have them available beginning April 1. If you need more information, please feel free to leave me a message here, or on Facebook, and by all means, feel free to write a review to let us know your impressions.

Bloedel Photo Workshop, April 23, now, SOLD OUT.

 Call 206-842-7631 to register. All major credit cards accepted.

If this workshop filled before you could reserve a place, or the date just didn’t work on your calendar, I’m pleased to be able to tell you that I am currently putting together the details for a couple of other photo workshops here in the Pacific Northwest in the next handful of months. If you’re interested in hearing about them before I post them up, please e-mail me for more information.

My book partner, Debra Prinzing (green gloves) and our awesome pal Mary Ann Newcomer reveling in their newfound confidence and practicing their point-and-shoot magic.

Hey, Gang, I just got off the phone with Kate Gormley, Program and Communications Director over at Bloedel Reserve letting me know that ten of the sixteen available slots for my upcoming photo workshop at Bloedel, “Garden Photo Magic” have already been claimed, and encouraging me to let my blog followers know, so that they can reserve a place before they’ve all been taken. So, for those of you who might be interested, here is the pertinent info.:

When: Monday, April 23, 9:00am-1:00pm

Where: Bloedel Reserve, 7571 NE Dolphin Drive, Bainbridge Island, WA 98110

What: We’ll begin the morning with a playful slide lecture to get the creative juices flowing and help get each of you to think differently about your cameras and how to more effectively tell stories with them. Then we’ll head out into the gardens, woodlands and meadows that make up Bloedel to shoot images for a playful, “photo assignment” I’m devising to help you hone your storytelling skills while these new pointers and picture ideas are still fresh. I’ll be out there with you, floating between participants, offering individualized and small group instruction as you find the theme and direction of your ‘story’.  Finally, we’ll re-gather and  share a few ‘favorites’ from each willing participant’s shoot, and let the ooohhhhing and ahhhhing commence. No food will be served, but you are encouraged to bring a sack lunch to eat during the final hour of class.

Here’s a pdf version of the BloedelSpringBulletin_2012 which will provide even more workshop detail (page 5), as well as a preview into my book partner, Debra Prinzing’s ”The 50 Mile Bouquet lecture (page 4), and our joint book signing at Bloedel, on Earth Day, the day before.

And for those workshop attendees who are interested, you will be able to purchase your own copy of “The 50 Mile Bouquet” on site at Bloedel, which I will most happily sign for you following the workshop (but only if you’d like me to). 

 

A ‘Ground Up’ Point of View

A pretty bold, if small gesture for one lonely little strand of Vinca.

It’s natural enough to want to be impressed, to want to be amazed, stunned, made speechless      . . . blown away. And really, in this day and age of continual visual and aural bombardment we are probably all a bit jaded, and if we’re honest, addicted, to the bold promise, the over-the-top gesture, the “IN YOUR FACE” attention grabbing smack down.

Fritillaria meleagris (Snakeshead Fritillary)are just beginning to push skyward, but their stunning, checkered blooms are as yet, only promises.

Which means that little things, not-yet-showy things don’t, maybe even can’t capture our attention and help us remember what ‘amazing’ really looks like anymore.

'Tete a Tete' Narcissus emerge from within an insulated bed of conifer needles.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah . . . come back when you’ve got five hundred of those guys in bloom, all in one big, bold swath. Until then, I’m busy chuckling and re-posting a link to that latest Jack-In-The-Box bacon-cheeseburger commercial, and you’re boring me!” (Actual imaginary quote from imaginary Homer Simpson type person who just doesn’t get it.)

Noble, generous, longsuffering, Hellebores of many shades offer extra beauty to those willing to pause, bend and kneel for it.

‘Detoxing’ seems to be a pretty big deal in many circles these days. Ever consider ‘detoxing’ your eyes, your imagination? You won’t need to run down to your local supplements store for the latest forty dollar jar of chocolate flavored smoothie powder or stick special, toxin-absorbing pads on the soles of your feet. Just put on some shoes and a jacket, and wander out into the garden, or the woods, and get down low to the ground. And then, wait. Wait long enough to really feel the cold in your toes and your knees. Wait until those chattering monkeys in your head begin to grow quieter and you can actually hear birds’ voices in the distance, and the wind in your own hair. Wait until you begin to notice those little things that are going on all around you, even if it is still so cold where you live that those ‘little things’ are merely the swirl of snowflakes on the ground, or the drip, drip drip of melting icicles.

And while you’re down there looking, listening, don’t forget . . .

Namasté, friends.

Were we but an inch tall, like snails, would this not seem immense, an emergent, prehistoric wonderland?

Three brief point-&-shoot glimpses from knee height, knees on damp ground.

Tiny, emergent euphorbias seem almost to glow as they radiate light gathered from the open shade and elegantly redefine it's appearance.

It’s probably a bit early yet to start really working the soil and planting things around here, but a few meditative hours on my hands and knees yesterday, trimming away perhaps fifty or sixty pounds of unruly Lamium from within the shade beds along the north side of my house, and pulling scores of hardy weeds while their root systems remain tenuous enough to allow easy removal, all convinced me that it isn’t too early to begin lending a hand to some of the early-emerging little wonders in the garden, freeing them from their weighty, overwintered blankets of leaf mold and mulch. So this morning, after a tall cup of hot joe, I wandered back out to the meandering brick and concrete pathway that runs from front to back gardens at Le Jardin de Dave, and dropped immediately down to my knees to offer a bit of helpful assistance.

This young grape hyacinth stem (Muscari), remains tender and pale, having just emerged from the dark, protective world beneath a generous blanket of autumn-raked leaves. As you can see if you look closely, the slugs and snails, and perhaps cutworms have been finding protection beneath the leaves as well, for several emerging stems have been chewed fairly extensively.

To my mind, one of the principal beauties of such an uncovering adventure is the ‘reveal’, that wonderful, pregnant little moment when a plant is first seen clearly for the year, not yet fully developed and almost blinking, if you will, or whatever the plant equivalent of blinking in the bright light of day would be, after having just been uncovered and introduced to the wonders of sunshine in all its pale young promise.

These not yet opened Galanthus, aka 'Snowdrops' are consistent, early bloomers within many temperate gardens and weighted as they are on their long, slender stalks, add a distinctive sense of color and motion to the early spring garden and its breezes.

Shrubs to help you celebrate!

Part 1: Photinia fraseri

  …and you can be certain that Photinia will be an essential part of the team.

      Stay tuned.

 

(Yes, technically the small part you can see here of this protective dragon that stands guard at my front door is composed primarily of Boxwood, but she is festively adorned with a crown of tender new Photinia leaves, variegated Carex blades and creamy Hellebore blooms. And it is important to note that you are seeing only the front-most section of this emerging, mythical guardian, for she runs the length of my garden.)