The garden photo I didn't take

Our prolonged cold and snowy weather meant that I've been spending a lot of time paging through the latest print garden catalogs that came in the mail as well as trolling for plants on-line. I kept making lists of plants to order and crossing them out; constantly adding and subtracting.

My garden, for example, has a beautiful Glaucidium palmatum (below) and I finally found a source for a white-flowed version that I've lusted after. But what I could not find were any photos of what my garden looked like at the end of the season to figure out if I have room for another big shrubby perennial — no matter how long I've longed for it! 

In the spring, I am out in the garden on my hands and knees working or wandering around with a camera — noticing and capturing every little thing as this shot from May shows.

By mid-summer the garden gets more and more full of plants and my digital files get equally full of photos. 

Then came the massive rains and flooding of late August which put paid to this 'Tiger Eye' Sumac. I dug it out rather than try to get it back in the ground, propped up who knows how long. Once I'd done that chore, I loved the open look of the bed. It inspired me to start dividing and moving crowded plants as well as adding a few new things. 

But now here I sit with no good photos of what things looked like as I reconfigured this bed and the one across the path from it. All I photographed were images that show how the big leaves from the stripe-bark maples cover this area when they fall. I had to rake them up before I could put down the mulch of chopped leaves we'd created to help insulate these new plantings in case we had a winter like last year's.

There are snowdrops and Erythroniums and Primulas and all the other old and new plants growing here that were dormant or cut back when I took this photo. I do have id cards on what I planted in the fall and where, as well as notes in my journal. But I can't get over the fact that I did not think to take some pictures to jog my memory. Once the snow covers this area, it is fairly inaccessible until spring. I will just have to restrain myself from ordering anything for this area or only order bulbs and ephemerals which can always be shoe-horned in.

Comments

[Peter/Outlaw]

There's always room for something as lovely as the white Glaucidium palmatum for which you've longed. As Kelly Dodson describes it, "...uncommonly beautiful, a well-grown mature plant is a prized trophy which marks you as a gardener of exquisite taste." A plant made for you!

[Lisa at Greenbow]

Oh I hate that when I am thinking and dreaming through winter and realize I don't take good enough photos of most everything. Arrgh. If you were anything like me, and you aren't, I would be purchasing that plant so fast the CC machine would be whirring.

[Kris P]

I've never heard nor seen Glaucidium palmatum before. It's lovely. The flowers remind me a little of a peony. You definitely "need" it!

[Linda Brazill]

I am trying to talk myself out of buying it because I do have a few single white peonies and it is somewhat similar. And the nursery is in British Columbia so you have to get a special permit and shipping is fairly expensive. But no final decision made so far!

[ceci]

Stunning plant, indeed. At this time of year I think I have wide open spaces (just ordered some jasmines in fact) but I know for a fact that I don't really.

Sigh.

ceci

[Nell]

How could you not find room for the Glaucidium? It'll echo your existing one, bringing unity to the garden by repetition. Not plant greed all! Design considerations. Pay no attention to those import/shipping costs behind the curtain!

[Erin]

I do this too: Think that I've taken every possible photo of my garden and when I go back there's nothing. I didn't even take pictures of many of my containers this year! And I'll believe that you won't order anything else for that area when I see it. :)

[Beth @ PlantPostings]

Yes, this is a funny thing, isn't it? I know I planted several new things, but I'm not good about putting stakes with names everywhere, so ... I'll have some surprises. ;-) Too bad about the Sumac--I was thinking how lovely it was in that first photo. Oh well, as you say, openness and changes are good, too.