The shift to spring is now palpable here at our east Texas homestead. I notice the sun's early morning rays shining more in our backyard, the temperature is hovering the in 60's or 70's most days, and spots of green are popping up in the landscape.
Emergence in the plant world is filled with such anticipation. Around us life is erupting, and it is so good to see fresh growth in a landscape scarred and burned from the extreme cold a fortnight ago.
The daffodils are up. Well, most of them are. I thought this would be a daffodil-less spring as many of the early tazetta types from the Mediterranean were bleached white. But, those that have more northern European blood seem to have made it through safely. The yellow-orange 'Ceylon' and large-cupped yellow 'Carlton' are now beginning to bloom. I noticed their buds above the snowline, but they still survived the cold. These are two Narcissus cultivars that actually do well for us here in east Texas and will increase in number with the years. Most modern hybrids just don't get adequate chilling to flower or grow well.
A bit of burn on the tips of the foliage of these ‘Ceylon’, but other than that, the cold didn’t phase them.
Narcissus pseudonarcissus are now flowering, too. They are much smaller than the varieties above, but I love their diminutive size. I recall seeing their minute buds huddled among the blue-green foliage as I scurried about preparing for the coming cold and wondering if they would survive. Seeing their buttery yellow coronas reminds me of my youth and the abandoned yards full of them on the backroads in Tennessee marking where homes once stood. Even then I would pick handfuls of them to bring their sweet scent into our house, much like I did ahead of the two inches of rain we got this past weekend.
This line of Narcissus pseudonarcissus flowers faces south, soaking in the sun.
Ahead of the rain I divided some large clumps of Narcissus pseudonarcissus and planted them into the beds near our house that I have been developing into naturalistic plantings since our arrival here a little over three years ago. These plantings needed more early spring color, and I plugged in the bulbs before the rain started amongst the emerging foliage of Pycnanthemum and a nice purple foliage form of Tradescantia gigantea I found.
I randomly scattered Narcissus pseudonarcissus into this bed over the weekend. Though I’m not done yet, my goal is to have small groupings, denser in the middle and then less bulbs on the outside.
Ahead of the rain was also a good time to move 20+ Penstemon tenuis and 30+ Penstemon digitalis plants I grew in propagation beds from last year. Both were derived from seed that I collected from plants growing here, and they were just barely beginning to produce shoots out of their basal rosettes. Now I feel like I have enough plants to make an impact come April for the purple-flowering Penstemon tenuis and May for the white-flowering Penstemon digitalis. I was surprised at how shallow their root systems were. I was able to scoop them up with a shovel almost like one would scoop lasagna out of a dish and place into a similar shaped hole.
A wheelbarrow of Penstemon digitalis ready for planting. You can see the fresh foliage beginning to pop.
Nearby other natives are emerging, and it is a real cast of characters—Arnoglossum plantagineum, Trillium ludovicianum, Antennaria parlinii, Sanguinaria canadensis, Stenanthium gramineum, and even my Sarracenia in the bog. All of them know it’s time to grow.
I delight in seeing the hosta-like foliage of Arnoglossum plantagineum. Plants have finally gotten to a decent size at our place, and soon their shoots will rise for form a white corymb of rice-shaped flowers.
I was also happy to see my Trillium ludovicianum emerging amongst the groundcover of Antennaria parlinii I planted to mark the ephemeral. You can barely see the chicken wire cage that I planted it in to protect it from the gophers that plague our property, and if you look closely, you’ll see some one-leaved baby Trillium in the center!
The fists of Sanguinaria canadensis are shoving their way out of the soil and begun to unfurl as leaves.
The slivers of foliage on Stenanthium gramineum emerge from the ground. I’ve always found their maroon sheaths near the ground to be attractive but quickly hidden by the foliage.
I squealed this weekend when I discovered the antennae-like flower buds emerging on this Sarracenia flava ‘Black Ascot’ when cutting back the pitchers.
Yes, all this fresh growth of spring is truly wonderful . Sure, we may have another frost or two along the way, but for now I will celebrate emergence and the return of my many photosynthetic friends to the garden after their long slumber. It is so good to see them again.