Believe it or not, this is actually a garden blog, and I actually do have a garden, in which, occasionally, I do some gardening, between duels. Given the rush to embrace the cause of Blackhearted James of Blackpitts Garden, I can only conclude that my days are numbered; so I have chosen to turn my back on the fray for a brief moment, and contemplate the loveliness in the aforesaid garden.
Having killed more than a few of plants in my time, often enough through sheer neglect, it seems a bit presumptuous to do anything that might imply that I have a green thumb. Still, barging ahead undeterred (that’s how I roll—or trundle; my sons insist that I trundle—) I offer here a few columbine from my garden.
The blue and white variety is the state flower in Colorado; the colors I see more often hiking near Bozeman are yellows: a darker, almost butter-cup yellow on the outside, spurred petals, a pale, creamy yellow on the inside. That I don’t have, though several new colors have turned up this spring, including this yellow and red one:
I find them utterly and in all ways lovely—the rounded mound of foliage, the flowers’ delicate colors, their equally delicate design. The way the light shines through a single petal makes me see light itself newly. Most flowers open in one direction only, but this flower is so generous, its spurs bloom again.
Someone who shall remain forever nameless here, not because I am kind or courteous (!) but because I have a lousy memory and no time to look him up, posted a month or so ago about having come round to columbine (or aguilegia, as he termed it). Well, I confess to having looked askance at him, given his confession, it being quite beyond me how or why anyone would need to come around to columbine.
I even like this pink one–and I don’t usually like pink.
I’ll close with this exquisitely colored one–the tips of some petals fading out into green, others to the most lightly drawn lavender.