Just now I'm excited about a show of color in my front bed which is at least as much accident as plan. Sure, I chose the plants and planted them, but I have to admit I anticipated only a part of what eventually happened. In order to create just the right combination in a client's garden, I have spent hours pouring over books and notes, looking up a plant online to see what it looks like at various times of year. Sometimes the plans come easily, other times, either because of constraints like shade, blazing afternoon sun, or the knowledge that the maintenance will be sporadic, they come after much deliberation and research.
Then there are the situations like my front bed. When I found that evergreen shrub Distylium myricoides at a nursery I bought it because it is in the Hamamelis family. I love this plant family almost without exception, and those that I don't love I still like and would invite into my garden. I had never run across or heard of Distylium, and it was an evergreen, which I was in the market for. I took it home and planted it not far from its lovely cousin Hamamelis x intermedia 'Jalena', Witch Hazel. Nearby was an established, if dormant, clump of Hackonecloa macra 'Aureola', Japanese forest grass and a Paeonia mlokosewitschii, Peony Molly-the-Witch. A few more of winter's grey months passed and the garden started to wake up. The Hackonecloa and the Peony pushed up through the earth. The dark, wet mulch helping to show off their beautiful new leaves.
When Paeonia mlokosewitchii (a mouthful) emerges starting in March her leaves and stems are a deep pinky brown and they break out of leaf sheaths that are darker still. They are lovely and robust and look wonderful when the rain drops collect in the still curled up leaf bases. A good thing given that the rain has no intention of stopping any time soon. The blades of the Hackonecloa are spiky at first as they poke out of the ground surrounded by last years dry, cut back stems. Their vibrant yellow-green blades look backlit even without benefit of sunlight - so you can imagine what a little sun can do. Here is where the Distylium comes in. I knew this plant would have small, fringey, wine-red flowers.
What came as a surprise and a delight was the new growth. The mature leaves are dark green with a blue cast, but the new growth is a peachy green. The peachy-ness talks with the new leaves of the Peony and the green-ness makes the Hackonecloa sparkle even more. This is happening while those dark red flowers I mentioned bring out the red-pink staining in the Peony's stems. I could add, just to really go over the top, that the little calyxes left over from the Hamamelis blooms are the same red as the Distylium bloom.
The overall effect is of the opaque darkness of soil and leaf shot through with brilliant flecks of bright sunlit green. In this combination of plants I have all that I love about spring. If only I could say it was on purpose. I did go on to add the Euphorbia 'Efanthia' with its deep purple-red leaves and chartruese flowers when I discovered all this wonderful color play. I am hoping it gets enough sun under there to amount to something. Then the show will really be worth the long winter wait.
It's lovely to hear someone speak of plant combination and botanical colors with evident care and joy. For a non-botanist who is also learning when and where his mild color-blindness is most troublesome, your story reminds me how rewarding close attention can be: though the distinction between colors may always preclude experiencing exuberance in the play of shades, the shapes of leaves, their relative opacity, the timing of the bloom of winter versus spring flowering trees, the first growth of a certain family of plants pushing through spring soil - all of these facets of the botanical spectacle remain accessible. They demand but reward close attention, the kind of attention which your story contains.
ReplyDelete