As you can see, the bottoms of the ranunculus get a bit ragged looking as they go, but we forgive them, because they are still lovely. Ivy and pansies doing nicely. Little green glass gazing ball stake from Target; they have an array of colors.
Albert Heijn tulip, an early one. If I'm remembering right, it will get quite a bit pinker soon.
Same tulip, different angle. Just experimenting with photographing the garden.
Ah, this was an experiment that didn't work out as well as I'd have liked. Planted species iris, scilla, and checkered fritillary all together -- the scilla came up just as the iris was dying back, which worked great for camouflaging the dying iris foliage, but the fritillary is now coexisting with the scilla, and I think it just looks messy. Hm.
I adore muscari (aka grape hyacinth). I like them a lot more than regular hyacinth. I have them all along the rocks that line the sidewalk, and they are so cheerful.
Don't remember what kind of daffs these are, sorry. Daffydowndillies! "The catchy name 'Daffy-down-dilly' originates from the novel Little Daffydowndilly which was written by the acclaimed American author Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)."
Nursery rhyme:
Daffy-down-Dilly
Has come to town
With a yellow petticoat
And a pretty green gown
Daffy-down-Dilly.
Mt. Hood early giant white daffodils. These started out pale yellow, and I was a bit annoyed, since I'm aiming for cool tones in the front yard, but within a few days, they had paled to the white I had *thought* I'd planted. So we're all good now.
Berries and cream hyacinths. If they're falling down like that, does that mean they're overcrowded? Should I separate and spread out the bulbs in the fall?
Pulmonaria blossoms -- if you look carefully, you can see that some of them are pink. I like the bicolor a lot, and also the variegation on the leaves. Brightens corners.
Ooh, this one, the nursery made me MAD. The photo showed pink and white daffodils. These are not. This is Replete, and is a perfectly lovely double daffodil, but it will be banished to the backyard, because I'm compulsive that way. No nursery lie dare get interfere with my color scheme. If only I had seen this page first.
Checkered fritillary, a tiny, old-fashioned flower.
Muscari again, somehow making me think of little gnomes, hiding in the grass.
My viburnum buds are ready to pop!
Sometimes the iPhone and I disagree on what is important. Clearly, it felt the dried leaves of last autumn carried more significance than the periwinkle of spring, given where it chose to focus despite my best arguments. It is a melancholy beast.
My favoritest daffodil in the world. Delicate little Thalia. I have seven bunches of it now, and I plan to add at least that many more in the fall. Because I adore it so!
Thalia lines the path, although only the nearest ones have started blooming. The rest will come soon! Thalia, scilla, and muscari would make a gorgeous spring garden all by themselves.
Miss Kavya, her head bloody, but unbowed.
"In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed."
-- from "Invictus"
And I think this is a robin?