I'm not ready for winter....



I can look over my computer as I type this and a delightful dusting of snow (ridiculously like powdered sugar) has bent the branches of the Scots Pines in the distance and frosted the daphnes and cushions and mounds in my rock garden: a lovely picture really. One I shall certainly get used to in the coming months...winter has her monochromatic charms.

But give me summer! I remember in July being beastly hot and yearning for a bit of autumn coolth. Fiddlesticks: I want heat again! I want the sun to burn down and my hat to get sweaty. Most of all, I want all the flowers to bloom all over again. Above is the limestone cliff section of the Rock Alpine Garden at Denver Botanic Gardens where I spent so many enchanted years as Curator. Front and center is Allium caeruleum, not the measly plant of commerce, but a robust, giant form from Mary Ann Heacock (I vaguely remember she said she got it from a correspondent in Bulgaria, I believe). When it blooms, the high season of June is at the very peak, and the mountains are coming into their own, and life is going full throttle.

I must plant more of this allium in my own garden. And maybe it's not too late for some bulbs: most autumns I order from two or three bulb catalogues, and usually get some from special collectors. This year I didn't, and I'm beginning to have pangs of guilt: if I don't plant some bulbs in my garden, will spring ever come again? I guess I better saunter on down to Timberline or Country Fair garden centers and see what they still have kicking around...

Meanwhile, I'll grudgingly admire the powdered sugar trees and shrubs, and get back to that mountain of paperwork that never seems to go away.

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