There are days when I no longer feel like a gardener. There are days when I feel more like a fashion photographer, coordinating colors, waiting for the perfect light, and soothing the tender egos. As I take out the camera, they’re on — strutting and seductive as they all aim to get the cover of Vogue or Elle or Better Homes and Gardens.
“Yes. That’s the shot.”
Bleeding Heart
We arrived home late last night, and the first thing I did today was to take a walk around the yard. Joe’s mom did an excellent job at keeping things alive during our brief heatwave. I cannot believe what popped while we were away for only a few days. I thought I would share my findings here.
This lacecap Hydrangea impresses me each year. First, because of the violet color. Second, because of the size of the flowers.
One of my favorite easy-to-grow-from-seed flowers: Cosmos. Please excuse the shriveled one -- it's been a hot couple of days.
I'm not sure of the name of this plant, and I'm not sure if it's a curse or a blessing. It's practically invasive, spreading by means of runners. The clumps of pink flowers, however, are sweetly smelling and perfume the air, especially at night.
This is my reward for saving this Geranium each year. I actually planted this from seed several years ago, and I cannot part with the hot color.
I decided to give Sunflowers another try. According to the seed packet, this is "Italian White." Does this look white to you? Is yellow the new white in Italy?
Meet Nelly Moser. I thought I lost this Clematis over the winter after a wind storm ripped the trellis out of the ground. I put the trellis back into the ground, and "Whoa, Nelly," she returned.
I planted Morning Glory seeds around the same trellis as Nelly Moser. This is a double flowering variety.
Normally, I stick with traditional red Geraniums. This year, I started white ones from seed, and I'm glad I did. Seeing them poolside reminds me of the colors of Santorini.
Campanula ready to burst open.
Please, humor me with another Hydrangea photo. This is just outside of the front door, and began as one those Easter gift plants that was forced to bloom too early.
Nitty Gritty Dirt Man 