We’re beginning to see a little bit of sunshine peeking through our West Coast winter overcast. I yearn for spring, but it’s just not quite here yet.
The Forsythia is stretching for the sky. A couple lanky stems impede C’s access to the driver’s car door, so I’m pruning them back when a thought occurs to me: These bare stems might give us an early spring if I bring them indoors.
It’s easy. Just a vase, some water & a spot in some indirect light. After a few days, the tiny buds begin to plump & even show some colour. It’s promising!
photo by SVSeekins
A few days after that — blossoms! Oh, JOY! 🙂
photo by SVSeekins
photo by SVSeekins
It’s like magic. A patch of sunshine inside the house — even when there’s an unexpected skiff of snow outside.
It’ll be a full month before the shrub near the driveway explodes into brilliant yellow blooms announcing to all that spring is upon us in the Pacific Northwest. Bring it on!
Flowers in winter are like a welcome reprieve from the blustery storm. Witch Hazel has got to be one of the top ways to get winter colour.
The other day, out walking with friends & hoping for sunshine, we came across this delightful scene.
photo by SVSeekins
Usually, Hamamelis is more like a shrub or a small multi-stemmed tree topping out at 15 ft. This specimen has got to be the largest Witch Hazel I’ve ever seen!
The flowers are crazy-looking but long-lasting. Some folks say they’re scented, too, but I’ve never noticed. It’s just a nice surprise to see something blooming through the first few months of the year. As with most scented plants, come prophecies of deer resistance…. hmmm, I wonder… could it be true?
photo by SVSeekins
Listed as suitable for zome 5, Witch Hazels are a pretty safe bet for our zone 8-9 garden. Purchasing a specimen in bloom is one of the safest ways to be sure you’re getting the variety you want. February’s a good time to be planting a tree in these parts, too. Perhaps I’ve just talked myself into a visit to the nursery?
One of my favourite spring ephemerals is the lesser-known Yellow Flowering Onion. It’s native to southern Europe (Mediterranean), but it’s a tough little bulb that rates at zone 3. It also grows well here, in the Pacific Northwest.
photo by SVSeekins
The strappy leaves appear in spring. They look quite a bit like bluebell leaves but have a faint oniony odour if bruised. (Ditto for the bulb). Once the flower buds come out, it’s easy to see the difference.
Alium moly luteum blooms as an umbel of flowers at the top of the stem, similar to other onions. It typically reaches mid-calf rather than knee or thigh height of the large purple alliums.
At first, I figured the short Allium moly luteum was best at the front of the border. Unfortunately, the foliage dies back shortly after the bloom does. As it’s declining, the leaf is still feeding the bulb for next year’s flower production. It’s better to let that foliage fade naturally. But that looks pretty sad.
photo by SVSeekins
These days, I’m shifting some bulbs further into the border & mixing with asters. The hope is the emerging aster foliage catches attention as the allium fades. If it works out, it’ll mean we get 2 seasons of bloom from relatively the same location.
Here are a few other reasons why Lily Leek is a keeper:
Our neighbourhood deer have never touched it. (I guess Bambi doesn’t want onion breath.)
The bulbs survive our incredibly arid summers & very wet winters.
It seems just as happy in dappled, dry shade as in full sun.
It’s basically NO maintenance, if situated somewhere that other plants distract from the onion’s fading foliage.
Allium moly luteum looks lovely blooming alongside red hot pokers, California lilac, foxglove & peony (other drought-tolerant & deer-reistant plants).
photo by SVSeekins
With that much going for it, Golden Galic is assured of its space in our garden.
Garden Variety Life 