the ones in front that look a lot like "scrambled eggs" has been growing here for decades, if not longer. It's easy to see why people call it that. But it's true given name...well, at least its current official name is Van Sion and is named, according to a history shared by my friend Scott at Old House Gardens, for "Vincent Sion, a Fleming, living in London, [who] cherished it in his garden for many years before it flowered in the year 1620."
This is an heirloom if there ever was one.
And, of course, there's all sorts of discussion for this daffodil has a mind of its own.* Some years in this garden it is all gold, as in the photo other years, it sports streaks of bright green. Live a few years with a flower like this beauty and you will come to believe that plants do have personalities. And they have moods.
i love that this curious individual persists and thrives all on its own. seemingly forever.
The other daff with its glorious glowing trumpet? He is one of a very handsome crowd from a bagged mix of unnamed bulbs i couldn't resist at the hardware store.
*From Old House Gardens: "All ‘Van Sion’ bulbs sold in the US today are grown on a small island off the north coast of the Netherlands. There the climate is perfect for ripening bulbs which will bloom with all of the doubling neatly contained within the trumpet...No matter where you garden, that’s what you can expect to see the first year after you plant them, and that’s what most books and catalogs show you. But every spring after that, most of these bulbs will produce quite different blooms – shaggy powderpuffs with no sign of a trumpet, as you see in our photos here. And in some years or some gardens, these blooms will be heavily marked with green or they’ll open gnarled and imperfect. Though they’re weirdly charming, these mop-headed blooms are rarely pictured in books or catalogs.
‘Van Sion’ isn’t the only double daffodil to bloom in two different forms. Here’s another from Paradisi in Sole Paradisus, John Parkinson’s landmark florilegium of 1629."
i never saw a rainy day i didn't like. Even the ones that come with scary, lashing winds like yesterday when i stopped often during my rounds at Greenwood to view the magnolias through the windshield.
Here is a pine, old oak and a magnolia just opening (by the way, this is how it looked behind the glass. No photoshop trickery this time. Click on one and a larger version will open)
on the other side of the garden, the brilliant red stems of young Japanese maples appear before another pair of giant beauties
For a while the rain fell gently, straight from the clouds
then a wind kicked up
and it roared
and huge fat drops pelted the glass and drummed on the roof and i felt myself smiling behind the viewfinder
Late last night a much different response gripped me after driving home in all that weather my hands ached from gripping the wheel for ...was it really only an hour? then hearing the news from North Carolina breaks my heart. Prayers and thoughts for those who lost loved ones and homes.
Between me and the neighbor's barn where a small forsythia grows is a Russian olive that is just beginning to leaf out. A soft rain falls for most of the day. The telephoto feature + high iso = a chunky image that prompted me to mess about with pixels
but very generous. A single bulb produces more than one flower and 10 bulbs cost less than a burger and fries. Everyone who gets hungry for spring needs to plant small bulbs. They appear early and when its cold/cool/chilly they bloom on and on and on.