Cowiche Canyon trails have opened this month for hiking. Wildflowers are in bloom, birds are singing, and breezes fill the air with song and scent. Some trails show much winter damage, but are passable. Bill and I hiked seven miles on two different trails (Snow Mountain Wildflower Trail and West Weikel Trail) and were greeted by beautiful blue skies, a lizard who moved too quickly for a picture, and the largest Gray Heron we’ve ever seen. Like a small plane, that bird. And, of course, we took pictures. I’ll do my best to identify the flowers in the following shots, but would appreciate input if I’m wrong.
Enjoy!
Bridge #1 of 7. The creek is full and powerful!
Viola trinervata, Sagebrush viola. Apologies for the blurry shot.
Ribes aureum, Golden Currant
Ribes cereum, squaw currant? Not sure.
Colorful Lichen can be found on many rocks in the Canyon.
Giant-head Clover, Trifolium macrocephalum
Showy Phlox, Phlox speciosa. And it is showy!
As we saw at least six different lupines, I’m not sure of the species for this one.
Hydrophyllum capitatum, Ballhead Waterleaf. Not plentiful in the areas we hiked, so I was happy to see it.
And, of course, countless Arrowleaf Balsamroot, Balsamorhiza sagittata
Our trail lined with balsamroot.
No idea what this is. Any guesses?
And no visit to Cowiche Canyon is complete without a picture of the magnificent blue sky it offers.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this spring tour of Cowiche Canyon. In my mind, few places on earth can match is unique, wild beauty.
April, the beautiful month, is the month of the beautiful Amelanchier tree, commonly known in the PNW as Serviceberry, Saskatoon berry, Shadbush or Juneberry. In my neighborhood, indeed throughout most of my walking routes, the city of Seattle has planted these beautiful trees along most every block. And they are in full bloom right now.
A cloud of delicate white petals, a soft green axis, copper-color leaves, and slender limbs make this small tree one of the most beautiful of flowering spring trees. Nothing gaudy or flashy about this sweet little tree, and when not in bloom or in berry one might just walk by without even a glance, but in spring it shines!
There are many species in this genus, but here in the PNW A. alnifolia is most common. In addition to being a gorgeous spring treat, this little gem offers a wealth of small, slightly tart fruits (pomes) in summer that I love to nibble on while working – if I can get to them before birds devour them. In autumn, the leaves turn a lovely yellow/orange. Amelanchier trees are in the rose family (Rosaceae) and are prone to suckering, but are easily kept as a single trunk tree if you keep up with the pruning. Of the three serviceberries in my garden, two are allowed to sucker and one is kept in tree-form. And as with other plants in Rosaceae, the flowers have five petals and long stamens, and they don’t last as long as many other spring flowers (mostly because of winds).
As you see above, when grouped together, Amelanchier trees make a stunningly beautiful cloud of blossoms. And walking under the trees as petals fall is a delightful experience. My beagle used to try to catch and eat the petals as they fell, but then, he would eat most anything so that doesn’t indicate that the flowers are tasty.
If you have room for an Amelanchier, or if you want to grow one in a large container, you’ll bring a real gem into your landscape – a feast for the eyes, tasty fruits, and autumn color. Not much more one could ask for in a tree.
Busy month, March is. I have finished almost all the necessary work – mulching, composting, pruning, transplanting, weeding, repairing/rebuilding paths – and we have begun the one enormous project that will take us into late spring/early summer. And that project is the removal of our fish pond and its raccoon-slashed liner, repaving the entire pond terrace, and planting groundcovers between the paving stones. As the pond holds approximately 700 gallons when full, has two different depths (one 2 foot section, the other 4 feet deep), and over the years raccoons have pulled large pavers into the pond when they try to fish, this is going to be a Big Job. But, once completed, we will have a level terrace where I can place a table and chairs in the shady section and have a quiet, secluded place for reading, planning what to do next, and drink a glass of wine on a summer evening. Needless to say, all the work will be worth it!
But my favorite project so far involves a large laurel stump, with attached limbs, that Bill removed from the old hedge that divides our property from our neighbor. After being inspired by the Stumpery at the Rhododendron Species Botanical Garden with its beautiful ferns and moss, I thought I might make use of the stump Bill created. So, without the benefit of wood-working tools, I dug out a hole large enough for a small root-mass, planted an Athyrium niponicum var. pictum (this variety spreads by rhizomes), added some moss, and placed it under our red Japanese maple.
If this proves successful, I will plant a larger fern between the limbs.
As enjoyable and satisfying as projects can be, time off is also important. And as time allowed, we have been out and about. Another visit to Snohomish with our son, hikes on my own, a visit to Kruckeberg Botanic Garden, and neighborhood walks have made for a beautiful month.
Historic house on a hill. Snohomish
Earls House, 1895. Snohomish
Some of the beauty of Kruckeberg Botanic Garden, Shoreline, WA.
Flowering cherries line this street.
Wow!
And, last but most important, a demonstration of the fine art of relaxation.
Our little Charlie showing us what is most important in life.
Between sunny days and rain clouds, hard work and easy play, spring surrounds us with bright energy and sweet fragrance to fuel us forward. Take time to enjoy it all!
It’s Spring, it’s winter, spring again, summer?! – Spring is here.
March has arrived in a dramatic, unpredictable, lively way. Rain and wind storms, freezing nights, warm sunny days – a bit of everything. Don’t like the weather at the moment? Wait a minute or two and it will change. And as weather bounces around like a favorite cat toy in a small room, plants roll along, waking and stretching and opening to a pale sun.
Above are the lovely yellow blooms of Cornus mas, Cornelian Cherry dogwood, opening to the sun. This small tree blooms in late winter/early spring, and is always a welcome sign of warmth to come.
One of my favorite flowering currants, Ribes sanguineum, White Icicle. This beautiful plant graces our side yard, under the canopy of my neighbor’s white cherry tree. For just a few weeks out of the year, this part of the garden is stunningly beautiful.
Below is the pink form of Red currant. In my mind, a garden can’t have too many currants.
The pink buds of an old, well-loved magnolia. I pass this large, graceful tree on my neighborhood walks and always stop a moment to look up into its canopy. I’m not certain, but I think it’s M. grandiflora. It’s flowers open to white rather than the pink that the buds indicate.
And saving the best for last, my Pieris. This venerable, 80 year old shrub is a deeply loved and treasured plant, and one of the prized specimens in our garden. Its height (over 12 feet) and graceful canopy make it one of the most important plants in this landscape. It confuses me, however, because it has indications of P. japonica and P. floribunda; some visitors are adamant that it is our native (floribunda) and others are certain it is japonica. I think it’s too tall to be the floribunda, but whichever it is, it is deeply loved and valued.
This month, work is in full swing. Garden projects fill the days, planning fills the evenings, and deep sleep fills the nights. It all gets done – the work – sooner and later, but the work always gets done. Amid birdsong and squirrel fights and lengthening hours, each day brings the garden a step closer to being fully awake and productive.
Signs of spring on a frozen winter morning surround me as I walk through fog.
Fuzzy Magnolia stellata buds.
Edgeworthia chrysantha, Paperbush
A very beautiful Rhododendron.
Omphalodes verna, Blue-Eyed Mary (Thank you, Walt!! They are thriving.)
One of my many Hellebores.
A neighborhood fixture. I’ve walked passed this little guy for years. I see he needs new sunglasses.
A vibrant Bergenia.
Years ago, my mom gave me a group of Hyacinth bulbs for our new garden. Neither Bill nor I like this flower, but because it was a gift I kept it and let it bloom each year. And as it was one of her favorite flowers, it will stay put as long as it wants.
From a talented neighbor.
Although not a flower, my Coniogramme emeiensis is just as vibrant,
And no children’s garden is complete without a turtle or two.
Winter’s gifts delight as dark cold and bitter freeze dominate the world around us, and whisper to us the approach of bright warmth and spring breezes.
February. The work months have arrived. They arrive in snow dotted with sun, in cold promising warmth, in blue skies brushing away gray, and deep browns flushed with pink. Buds begin their gentle swelling and birds enliven their songs. Squirrels are frantic and crows are vocal. The slow waking of earth begins, and accompanying it is work. Pruning, clearing, assessing, transplanting, adding, removing – all begins when snow and frost clears. This winter has been tough on some plants. Our nights down to 15F, with daytime high temperatures of 19F, did some plants no favors even though they were wrapped in protective coverings. Some greenhouse plants died in a dramatic, mushy surrender. Others weathered the cold like the champions of extremes they are – agaves, sedum, opuntias – even being outside and unprotected, they did well. But the death of an old, beloved Ceanothus has hit us hard. This small tree lived through ice storms, deep snow, heat domes, and drought. Although aware that this genus tends to be short-lived, we were not ready to see what it has become. In truth, its demise began three years ago but with careful pruning we were able to keep it looking like the focal point that it was. Now, with all foliage dead and small limbs pruned away, it makes a handsome, if unique, skeleton. We will keep it in place through this year – it may rebound – but if not, it will be an unusual feature in that part of the garden.
It had a gorgeous, blue canopy in spring/summer.
Work in my restoration area will resume soon. I visited the area a few weeks ago and found countless downed limbs of old maples, a dying pine, and an alder – all added to the work list. But, I can use that material. Nothing goes to waste.
As plants wake and begin a new season, I realize how much I love this work. I see it as a privilege rather than a burden. I’ve encountered many people who feel the same way; others see this work as a nuisance. To each, their own. But to me, work is the rent we owe for the privilege of life on this magnificent planet. I take no issue with paying what I owe. After all, look at what we have.
When I was very young, I loved to lay on my back in the grass of our back yard and stare up into the trees beyond our house. We lived in a new neighborhood where huge, old trees in a small, native woodland (with accompanying undergrowth) were being removed at an astonishing rate. As I rested on the lawn, I would look up into the blue sky dotted with white clouds and green limbs, and imagine myself flying among the trees. Most likely, the small wooded area (remnants of a much larger, old forest) contained Doug firs (Pseudotsuga menziesii), hemlocks (Tsuga heterophylla), and some deciduous trees. I know it contained an ample presence of huckleberries because my brother and I would search out the treats to fill up on before coming home for dinner. I remember the tall, stiff fronds of sword fern (Polystichum munitum) that brushed our legs as we walked through the small forest searching for snacks. But the forest didn’t survive long after we moved into our newly built house. Trees came down in rapid succession, houses went up even faster, and soon the forest was gone. I wonder, occasionally, how old the trees were before being felled – how old the forest was – before countless new split-level houses took over their land.
Recently, Bill, our son, and I took a day trip to the small, historic town of Snohomish. The town is filled with bakeries, excellent coffee, and stores selling an enormous variety of antiques. Historic homes line the neighborhood streets. Many of these old homes have plaques on the front door or fence with the date the home was built and name of the original owner. All homes that we came across are beautifully maintained and colorful.
The detail on this 1880″s house is gorgeous.
Accompanying the large, Victorian homes are trees. Huge, old, mossy, pitted trees. Beautiful trees, each and every one, whose roots fill the spaces around sidewalks with secrets.
Massive roots, solid foundations – offering shelter to countless creatures over the decades.
This magnificent, old maple (Acer macrophyllum) and its kin, as well as other old trees, provide a service to the environment that humankind is finally beginning to appreciate and understand. In our travels, both near and in other countries, we search out old trees. Bill and I have come across the stunted, lean growth of ancient trees in the American west and marveled at how a tree can survive for hundreds of years on such small rations.
Southwest Oregon
The amazing and amusing tenacity of a young pine having found a home in the trunk of an old, dead tree long ago cut down. I’ve walked past this tree for years and it looks healthier each time I see it.
Old picture from our New Orleans visit in 1989.
In the swamps of Louisiana, life thrives in the heat, humidity, and storms.
This huge old guy was a bit close for my comfort, but Bill wasn’t alarmed ( taken at a state park outside of New Orleans, 1989).
The revered and deeply loved cherry trees of Japan are respected elders among the population.
When I was very young, I would often imagine that I could discern a tree’s heartbeat if I put my hands on the bark, just be still, and stay put long enough. But, I always felt that there was never enough time to stand in one spot and listen. I wanted to live in and among trees, to burrow down into the spaces between their roots and build a small place for myself. As an adult, knowing what goes on in and among the roots of a tree, how the tree interacts with its environment, and what it gives to the surrounding world is far more beautiful and fulfilling than any childhood fantasy.
After all, in more ways than we realize, these magnificent trees are our elders.
In addition to the intriguing foliage plants growing in the University of Washington greenhouses, many flowering plants also flourish here. Some are gaudy and shout out their presence to us wide-eyed enthusiasts, some are subtle and require a closer look to see intricate detail, and some are simply weird. Weird in amazing, delightful, beautiful ways. And weird in a way that makes you think, “What in the world pollinates that thing??” And one of those wonderfully weird flowers belongs to Tacca chantrieri, commonly known as the Bat flower or Cat’s whiskers. My history with this stunning plant is sad – I have tried to grow it four times in my long gardening life, with no success. Not even a leaf sprouted. And until this visit to the UW greenhouses, I had only seen the plant and flower in pictures. I had hoped to see it in one of the many garden conservatories we toured in Japan, but that hope didn’t pan out. I didn’t see one at Kew or the US Botanic Garden Conservatory in DC. So, when I reluctantly walked away from the cactus/succulent section and entered the tropicals section, I was ecstatic to see – blooming in front of me and surrounded by admirers – the Bat flower! I almost knocked over Bill when I nudged him and said – “There it is!! The Bat Flower!”
And here it is:
Because there were many people surrounding the plant, and it was placed towards the end of a very crowded table, I wasn’t able to get a full-face picture of the flower. However, I think the above picture shows the bracts behind the flowers (they look like black bat wings) clearly enough to give you an idea of their size. These bracts can be up to six inches across. But the flower’s most prominent feature is its whiskers. The whiskers, unique features called bracteoles, can grow up to 25-30 inches in length. There can be up to 30 whiskers per flower, and they grow from the space between the bracts and the true flowers (tubes). The purpose of the bracteoles is not fully understood; some theorize that they assist the plant with photosynthesis, others believe they may have assisted with attracting now-extinct pollinators. One site I visited states that the plant is self-pollinated (autogamy); other sites suggest that the flower may have a distinct pollinator in its native environment (Southeast Asia) but researchers aren’t sure of this.
As shown in this shot, the leaves are large, sturdy, and very glossy. All together – flowers, whiskers, bracts, and leaves – this is one truly unique and beautiful plant. But to me, the most surprising fact about this plant is that it is in the Yam family – Dioscoreaceae. It’s not edible (it has some toxic properties), but I can’t imagine wanting to eat something so beautiful, anyway.
Someday I will successfully grow this gorgeous plant here at home – even if for just one season – but until then, the invaluable greenhouses at the University of Washington will suffice.
For years, I have attended garden tours expertly guided by Walt Bubelis, Professor Emeritus of the Horticulture Department at Edmonds College (Washington state). These tours, of both private and public gardens, are a fascinating mix of different garden styles, unusual plants and/or plant combinations, a wide variety of environmental conditions, and an immense variety of gardening experience among the owners or head gardeners. What I have learned from these tours is far too vast to detail here; suffice it to say that with each tour I have become a better and more knowledgeable gardener. But one tour stands out from all the others, and that is the tour of the University of Washington’s greenhouses. If I were to describe all I saw on the tour, this post would run on for pages. Instead, I will start out with a few of the highlights (in truth, the entire morning was a highlight), and write another post or two next month.
We started the tour in the cactus/succulent room. I walked in and immediately fell in love with all I saw.
Just a tiny example of the treasures in this section.
Amazing spent seedheads.
It looks so soft!
Beautiful specimen!
It was hard for me to leave this collection as this plant group is a favorite of mine, but what followed was just as beautiful. The following photos are from the various collections.
Ceropegia ampliata, from Madagascar. This remarkable flower is pollinated by flies. Once pollinated, the petals open which allows the insect to fly out.
This is the amazing foliage of a begonia.
The cotton plant. I didn’t see the ID tag but I think the genus is Gossypium. The cotton is as soft as it looks – the rest of the plant, not so much.
Ephedra nevadensis. Heard of Mormon tea? It comes from boiling the stems of this plant.
Piper ulceratum
And this is the most remarkable plant I know of – Welwitschia mirabilis. Native to Namibia and Angola, southwest Africa, in the Namib desert. It’s a gymnosperm, a conifer relative (cone-producer), and is very long-lived. Considered a living fossil.
Last, a most amazing and surprising plant from my favorite family of broadleaf evergreen plants, Ericaceae.
Ceratostema rauhii
A lovely flower bud. This plant, Ceratostema rauhii, is in the same family as rhododendrons, blueberries, pieris, salal, heaths and heathers, cranberries, and many more. As all plants in the family Ericaceae, its flowers are bell-shaped. This plant is native to Peru.
By the time Bill and I left the greenhouses, our heads were filled with unique, remarkable beauty. I wondered about the environmental conditions that brought about the wide variety of adaptations seen in this enormous plant collection. (The random process of mutations, an organism’s reproductive success, ability to defend itself against predators, human impact – it all adds up. In fact, I no longer think that mutations are exclusively random – outside factors must have some degree of impact upon an organism. But this is an argument for a later date.) We stopped for coffee on the way home and were lost in thought for quite a while. Shortly after returning home, a Charles Darwin quote came to my mind,
“. . . from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved.”
January is a difficult month for me. As someone who lives the majority of her life outside, this cold, rainy, dark, dank month seems longer and longer each year. The sky is low, earth is sodden, and blue is fleeting and timid. Family, books, coffee time with friends, and cats make the month tolerable. Daydreaming helps, also, as does planning vacations. And at this moment, we’re planning our hiking trips for the year. If all goes well and my renewed passport shows up on time, we’ll be hiking Hadrian’s Wall, the Cotswolds, and the Jurassic Coast in September, Cowiche Canyon and Selah Hills multiple times in spring and autumn (the area is too hot in summer for comfortable hiking), the Channeled Scablands in March or April, and various trails in the Cascade Mountains. (And I will take one solo trip to Phoenix to visit the Desert Botanical Garden and see their gorgeous agaves!) In the meantime, I have been doing some very soggy gardening in the restoration area I’ve adopted, lots of reading, and walking in the rain. And looking through photos of past hikes and travels. And daydreaming, did I mention that? After all, a good daydream is almost as satisfying as a long, beautiful hike.
A beautiful blue expanse.
Smith Rock, Oregon. It was actually a very nice hike.
Mt. St. Helens, Washington. She blew her top in May, 1980, but still a gorgeous mountain.
If I remember correctly, this was taken at Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge.
Olympic Peninsula
A neighborhood walk.
And my favorite place on this planet, Cowiche Canyon.
I wish you beautiful daydreams, smooth hiking, and good weather (or good rain gear).
While I Was Gardening 
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