Color in a garden is such a personal thing.  Everyone (who gardens) has a strong opinion.  I’ve been looking out across my upper garden this week and enjoying the many shades of green.  There are a few white blossoms as the oakleaf Hydrangea flowers begin to open. 

There are two garish blobs of bring pink Peonies.  This is the first year these particular plants have bloomed.  They were a gift from a gardening friend, and I had no idea what color they would turn out to be when I planted them ‘in the before times’ (prior to March 2020) when I still visited and chatted freely with friends.  I like the colors.  But they are apropos of absolutely nothing else in that part of the garden at the moment.

There are a few Siberian Iris still blooming bravely, and some lilac flowered chives just beginning to bloom.  I planted some beautiful purple and blue Salvia plants, in that area, but they haven’t yet hit their stride.  There is very, very little now beyond peaceful, healing, soothing green, white and grey in that entire part of our yard.  Except of course the stand of mountain laurel, still blooming enthusiastically in creamy pink.

The front patio, around the front door, is a different story entirely.  I happened to show up at our local garden center just after their first shipment of bright geraniums was delivered sometime in April.  And I bought an entire flat of plants in bright shades of rose red.  Only the two variegated leaved plants are a little off- a little too orange for my taste, but the beautiful cream and white leaves make it almost OK that the flowers aren’t the shade I’d prefer.  There is a profusion of rose red blooms from the geraniums, snapdragons and Dianthus across three sides of the patio in an odd assortment of pots- mostly blue.

I’ve finally planted out the Alocasias now, and I’m beginning to plant out the Caladiums as they awaken.  The color balance will shift a little as the Caladiums open their leaves and other perennials finally bloom.  I’m waiting for some herbs to grow in, and for the first pink Gaura flowers to open. 

The collection of pots holding my kitchen herb garden is nestled in a bed of creamy, variegated ivy.  It blends perfectly with the variegated pineapple mint that has been growing enthusiastically since early spring.  I’ve finally refreshed all the other pots with fresh herb plants, since the scented geraniums and rosemary plants from last summer perished over the winter.  These plants are mostly shades of green, except for the ‘Purple Opal’ and ‘Thai’ basil.

Most of my large pots of Begonias were stuck in the garage all last summer, and through a second winter.  It is a wonder they survived. After hurting my back last May, trying to lift and move them outside was impossible.  They look so abused and neglected but most show signs of life.  I’ve been bringing them outside little by little, trying to coax them to grow again, and maybe even to bloom this summer.  Begonias are very forgiving.  Several species will go dormant and then spring to life again, so my hopes are high.

I’ve added several new Begonia rex plants this spring, and I’ve been propagating those that have survived.  I have given fresh baskets or pots and soil to some already, and am feeding them in hopes of redemption for my neglect.  Begonias are some of my favorite plants.  They are tough, but so beautiful with their various shapes and colors of leaves touched with silver markings.  Most Begonia flowers are very small and insignificant, though the tuberous Begonias and some of the angel wings have larger, more prominent flowers.  And most bloom in shades of white, pink or red.  I don’t grow the yellow or orange ones because they would clash with everything else.

I grow more interested in texture, and shades of green, silver and cream with each passing year, and less interested in flowers with bright colors.  I’m less interested in flowers generally, and more fascinated by interesting leaves and colorful stems than by flowers that bloom today and fade tomorrow.  And ferns just bring me joy like few other plants.  I love watching their fronds uncurl and seeing the texture of one play against another.

I found a Japanese Beech fern this spring, and managed to somehow let it wilt before I got it planted.  I tried re-hydrating it, and the fronds just hung limp and browning.  So sad.  I’ve potted it into a slightly larger pot and set it in the shade.  Blessedly, there are signs of life.  This is a fern that wants deep shade and consistently moist soil.  It is hard to make sure the soil is always moist enough when the fern is still crammed in its little quart nursery pot.  If it dries out even once, then it is hard to re-hydrate the soil and roots again unless it soaks in a dish of water for a day or two.

But I found a second one, brought it home and checked it several times a day until I found the perfect spot to plant it on Thursday.  When I knocked the little fern out of its pot, I was delighted to find it already trying to run, with offsets crowded around the plant’s perimeter and down the sides of the root ball.  With care and a little luck, one plant will soon become several beautiful patches of them.  There were plenty of little divisions to separate and plant where I hope they will thrive.

I’m expanding the fern garden again and am planting a few new species along with old favorites.  The shades of green, touched with copper, silver, or gold feel very peaceful.  Ferns are easy.  Independent.  Tough. 

And the lizards and box turtles in our yard enjoy them so much.  We found a lizard just sunning himself on a custom bed made from a fallen Dryopteris frond.  He was between several ceramic pots, in his own little private garden room.  It was a shame we disturbed his peace when we came to move one of the pots.  The turtles find shade and shelter among the tall fronds, convinced that we can’t see them when they hold perfectly still.

Every great garden designer and landscape architect has their favorite colors to use in their designs.  Colors come and go with the seasons.  We are drawn to some colors more often than to others.  I love them all.  But my designs in the garden are growing calmer and greener- except for the front patio, of course!  Maybe as the years pass those plantings will rely more on foliage and less on flowers, too.  More shrubs and ferns, fewer annuals.  Maybe this is just part of the process as we gardeners mature.  It certainly makes our work easier when the plants mainly take care of themselves.

With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who hosts Six on Saturday each week.

You might enjoy my new series of posts, Plants I Love That Deer Ignore.

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