Tag Archives: love-in-a-mist

Companionable Love-in-a-Mist

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I’m gushing every day over my lush garden; once again this year, but twice as much, the extra rain has prompted everything to grow BIG! A friend said it’s because the precipitation was spread out more evenly over the season.

Nigella, or Love-in-a-Mist, has spread its soft, blue-blossomed self all over the place, so much so that I needed to rescue a lot of plants from the stems that had grown tall, taller, and so tall, with their seed pods getting heavy, that they lost their balance and fell down on the surrounding lavender, germander, yarrow — whatever was there, trying to come into bloom itself.

It’s a happy chaos, out there. But a gardener must garden, and manage things, if lightly.

Verbena planted last fall.
Apple mint and Bugloss.

The hopbushes (dononea) seem to be extra full and extra colorful this year:

Yarrow buds and nigella pods clinging.
White-lined Sphinx Moth amongst the Mexican Evening Primrose.
Showy Milkweed

When I was lifting nigella off the echinacea out front, I noticed that the Golden Margeurite also was encroaching and reclining, on the germander nearby. I had to cut it back a lot, but you can hardly tell, there is so much of it. I brought it indoors and it has made a long-lasting bouquet of golden sunshine.

The sun shines on triads of blue.

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This evening’s view through my kitchen window.

It seemed like most of May was overcast and cold… Oh, I know there were a few sunny hours in there, but I had to turn on the furnace again, and I felt my mood sink. Many days, in the evening just before dusk the clouds would open up and let a few rays through, as the damp marine breeze was blowing in. But at the very end of the month: the sun! the sun! I guess I am a central California girl in my bones.

The penstemon bloomed while the weather was still gray; as soon as there was enough sunlight, I took its picture, from north, south, east and west. Things are really crowded right now by the patio, and the blue-eyed grass is barely peeking out from under that penstemon. I guess the Santa Barbara daisies (erigeron) are not exactly blue, but their lavender tone made me think of this group as layers of blue blossoms:

On the other side of the garden, nigella, salvia and borage definitely make a blue bouquet:

The plum trees got some kind of icky leaf curl on their new growth, from the wet spring I guess. Also, because of the constant rain, we were able to apply a dormant spray only once during the winter. Alejandro came today and cut off all those branches, which were going to get lopped anyway in a couple of weeks, at the solstice.

While he was working, I wandered about like an enchanted queen considering her domain, picking flowers here and there. Though the blues definitely make a splash in the garden right now, they didn’t steal the show from the sweet peas and yarrow in my bouquet. Any day that ends with fresh flowers in the house I count as a success. Garden happiness!

Getting along in the garden.

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The garden always seems to have an intention of its own, apart from what I have planned for it. Last year I planted several new milkweed varieties on the south side, and none of them has emerged as yet. But under the fig tree the hearty Showy Milkweed volunteers have arrived as a whole regiment, even sprouting up through the lithodora.

So many of the welcome flowers are of the blue and purple hues, like Blue-eyed Grass and the first salvia bloom. I planted the sweet pea flowers in a row where chives were already growing; the chives are huge now, and I might have to cut them back to clear the way for the sweet peas to see the sun.

A single anonymous sweet pea volunteered in a big pot, back in the fall, and was trailing all over the path, so that I was stepping on it. So I stuck a mobile trellis next to the greenhouse and tied it up there.

This pink jasmine is finally thriving on a trellis against the fence. It looks pretty right now, but soon the salvia will send out its long branches and hide it. The garden is definitely overcrowded in spots….

One of the areas that felt overcrowded was in the front garden where a False Cypress grew. It was getting too big for my taste, and it’s kind of scruffy, so I took it out. Now more sunlight can come into my living room. I will replace it with something smaller and more interesting in the fall.

Borage has been surprising me by sprouting here and there, encouraged by all the rain; this is the most vigorous of the plants, and it’s in a place where I might remember to squirt it with the hose occasionally and keep it growing through the summer. (That ferny plant surrounding it is Love-in-a-Mist.) I don’t often use borage for anything, but the bees do! I hope it will grow away from the nearby fig tree, so that in late summer when I’m picking figs, I won’t be encroaching on the bees’ favorite feasting grounds. It will be interesting, day by day, to see how all the plants and insects and birds — and the gardener — coordinate their work for the maximum enjoyment of all.

Bee on milkweed 2019

The color of birds and flowers.

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This morning I confirmed what we suspected: Bluebirds have hatched in the birdhouse! I peeked in, sort of, with my phone, because the angle into the little space doesn’t work for my big head, and there was a hefty earthworm lying on the nest, too. This family has somehow been planned since February, when the mating pair first started investigating my Bluebird House, as it is marketed. It’s the second time for bluebirds; chickadees used it several times, too.

My own house is getting a new roof, a blessing of an entirely different category probably not to be compared with baby birds, but both of those events of the week are happy and uncommon. One way they differ is in longevity. I am pretty sure that this roof will last 25 years, and far “outlive” those tender creatures who recently pecked themselves into the open air. The roofers are making loud clomping, thudding and banging noises, while the baby birds sweetly peep. Also, my new roof is not blue.

In the front garden, I have let the asparagus go to ferning, making food for next year. It looks like a big flyaway bush hiding my car, which I parked on the street so that the roofers could use the driveway:

In the back, I moved all the potted plants away from the house so that they don’t get little pieces of old roofing shingles dropped on them. That’s penstemon in the foreground:

Love-in-a-Mist is growing nicely where I scattered seeds last summer. It is known for self-sowing, so I’m hoping this will happen again and again. Hello, May Flowers!