My breath caught when I turned the corner along a wooded trail revealing this spring meadow. Doesn’t it evoke images of butterflies & unicorns?
In my quest to ID this tiny smiling flower, I sent these photos to Saanich Parks’ horticultural supervisor, Kelly Mulhern. She quickly confirmed my suspicions: English Daisy.
Kelly says it originated in Europe but has naturalized all over the world. Although many folks enjoy it, “lawn purists” don’t.
The Cedar Hill Golf Course is home to this particular meadow. Their white drift of spring bloom laughs in the face of the perfect golf green.
photo by SVSeekins
I reckon it might be a new version of a sand trap. The plant grows in a low rosette shape, almost making a cup; perfectly suited for catching & cuddling a golf ball. And wouldn’t it be a bugger to find a white ball in this sea of white daisies?
The Royal Horticultural Society supports this daisy’s usefulness for planting in a wildflower meadow. I’m with them (surprise surprise).
But the debate rages. 🙂
C says he prefers the even texture of uninterrupted grasses. He’s one of those purists. How about you?
It’s taken me a couple of years to really appreciate Forsythia in all seasons.
photo by SVSeekins
Yes, Forsythia is at its best in spring. Every morning through March, I sit with my coffee & ponder the coming growing season. As I’m peering out the kitchen window, my anticipation builds as the buds on the Forsythia show more & even more promise.
I’m energized by the sunny yellow blossoms in March & April.
Each year I feel so desperate to see any spring colour. Forsythia will never be challenged over its prominent real estate between our driveway & the kitchen entrance.
For all that hoopla, it’s easy to forget about Forsythia for the rest of the year. But that would be ignoring the assets.
photo by SVSeekins
In April & May, the yellow blooms give way to yellow-green leaves. Like the rest of the garden, the shrub begins to fill out, supplying much-appreciated privacy.
photo by SVSeekins
By June, Forsythia is a steadfast background green, and working hard to complement the new flowers in the garden parade throughout the entire length of the summer and into the fall.
photo by SVSeekins
When the brisk winds of October arrive, Forsythia again steps up for a more significant share of the garden interest. The yellow, apricot and red leaves add lovely colour to the fall palette.
For Halloween, they’re even more vibrant. No wonder Forsythia has become one of our garden mainstays!
photo by SVSeekins
photo by SVSeekins
By December, Forsythia is naked again. That’s not my favourite look for a shrub… but I understand that without the barrenness of winter, the spring probably wouldn’t be as exciting.
-30-
10-2026 – (SVSeekins) More than 15 years after writing my ode to Forsythia, I must mention that my appreciation for this shrub has only increased. It is one tough do-er.
Forsythia roots easily from whips & I’ve now got several more shrubs around the property.
Forsythia even survives in fairly shallow, dry soils. Here on the tip of Vancouver Island, with wet winters & very dry summers, forsythia is still happy in a shallow bed at the top of our rocky outcrop. That means the winter wet runs quickly away & in the summers it still survives the heat– even when I only drag the hose around every couple of weeks.
Forsythia certainly prefers full sun, but it will try hard to be of value even when other trees hog much of the light.
Forsythia comes in several cultivars, so you can find a shorter variety if preferred. There’s one Forsythia down the street from our garden that blooms 3 weeks earlier than ours. It also shifts into fall colours at least 3 weeks earlier, too. AND that autumn colour is a much deeper red (almost purple). Perhaps these differences are due to the more exposed siting? Or maybe it is a different cultivar?
The bright yellows & oranges signal summer edging into autumn. Harvest colours, right? Why consider anything else?
photo by SVSeekins
It really seems to clash, but how about boasting soft pink for their fall decoration?
One of my favourites is colchicum. The lovely blooms are such a surprise when they pop up out of nowhere. Why aren’t they clothed in leaves? It’s getting chilly at this time of year!
photo by SVSeekins
That’s why I think their common name suits them so much better: Naked Ladies. Don’t you?
C had figured out the leaf mystery when living on Cedar Hill. He pointed out the wide, lush leaves showing so much potential in early spring.
photo by SVSeekins
Later, when they died back in May without ever blooming, he commented on how they were a waste. Perhaps a failed spring bulb?
It wasn’t until early September that the Naked Ladies appeared out of nowhere.
Realistically, it might have even been a couple of seasons before he reached the “Ah-ha!” moment, but he did. 🙂
photo by SVSeekins
The deer don’t seem impressed by them in either season, so that’s been another advantage.
It was a no-brainer that we had to have lots of colchicum at the Richmond House.
Now I have to find a way to get soft pink not to clash with the bright yellow of the Black-Eyed Susans (Rudbeckia). Perhaps adding something bright purple? Any ideas?
