Floral notes: May 2016.


So…April happened.  I hope it was a great month for you, and the first few days of May are shaping up nicely!  I actually think I could use a nice little nap to recover.  Two or three days should be nearly sufficient, I think.

While I was awake last month I found a few fascinating things to share with you – take a look!

These macro images of water droplets from Canmore photographer Martin van den Akker are absolutely incredible!

Have some money to spend on travel?  Touring these spectacular crater lakes around the world sounds like a good idea.

Do you grow any green-coloured flowers?  These are stunning and unusual examples – how about that Dianthus?

The book may be a few years old now, but if you haven’t seen French photographer Cedric Pollet’s Bark, try to track it down.  You’ll see incredible photos like this.

I’ve been seriously lax about posting stuff elsewhere, but I did manage this:

A yummy Creamed Spinach recipe on my Grit.com blog Blooms and Spoons – this is real comfort food for spring!

Finally, because I get a chuckle out of engrossing you/grossing you out with the delectations that will be available on the midway at this year’s Calgary Stampede, here goes: New Food Stampede 2016.

Which dégustation disgusts or delights you?  That rainbow grilled cheese sandwich makes both my eyes and stomach hurt….


Lady’s mantle.

Alchemilla mollis ‘Thriller’

Okay, so lady’s mantle has green flowers.  (I once heard them described as “acid yellow” which I thought was compelling and apt).  And, well, everyone sort of avoids green flowers because of the blob effect of green blooms on green leaves – most gardeners prefer the reds and the purples and the true yellows and so on, colours that make a statement in the landscape.  But, in my opinion, lady’s mantle is one of the most reliable and beautiful perennial plants you’ll ever grow, well worth a spot among more flashy companions.

There are about 300 species of Alchemilla, of which the garden beauty Alchemilla mollis is one; legend has it that the genus name comes from the word “alchemists.”  Apparently the dewdrops that gather on the leaves of lady’s mantle were purported to possess some sort of magical powers, and alchemists collected them so that they could divine the location of the fabled philosopher’s stone.  (Uh, okay).  Really, there does seem to be an unearthly beauty in the way water droplets bead on the foliage of the lady’s mantle; of course, it all has to do with the decidedly practical velvety soft hairs on the leaves.  And while the flowers rise up in a sort of spray (much like baby’s breath) and make excellent fresh or dried cut flowers, they are insignificant compared to the gently scalloped, warm green, slightly fuzzy foliage that mounds PERFECTLY.  This is the tidiest plant I’ve ever seen, hands down.  I hardly ever have to deadhead it; I’m not sure I’ve ever removed a brown leaf in five years.  Lady’s mantle is so low maintenance you nearly forget about it…until it rains or we have a rare heavy dew.  Then it really sparkles.  I’ve got it set between a riot of feathery blue flax (Linum perenne), sunny yellow flax (Linum flavum compactum) and the tall spikes of purple-blue Salvia superba.  The combination is absolutely stunning.   Don’t be dissuaded by green flowers – this may just be the best perennial you’ll ever plant!