post-Fling!

I just finished downloading and Photoshopping my pictures from the garden last week and Spring Fling, and it's after midnight and I am exhausted. So, first off, I'd like to say thank you to Pam, MSS, Bonnie and Diana for planning this fabulous weekend. I had so much fun and met so many interesting people and felt so comfortable with such a large group that, introvert that I am, I was, quite frankly, shocked. I couldn't believe how many of us self-professed introverts simply couldn't stop talking. Garden geeks, unite!

(And here I pause to make a conquistador-like fist of horticultural solidarity.)

And thanks to all of the driving between houses, nurseries, hotels, and gardens, I've seen more of Austin in this weekend than I've managed in the last four years.

Anyway. Since I was too busy talking Annie's head off at The Natural Gardener to take pictures, and too busy getting my mind blown at the David/Peese garden (like a bullet through a peach, my friends) to take pictures, I must shrug a sheepish shrug on the topic of Spring Fling photo documentation and offer instead these few images of South Congress Avenue this afternoon, where the last of the lingering Fling-ers saw the sights.

Outside Guero's Taco Bar:

We have achieved roses!

Since I didn't plant any spring-blooming bulbs, I've been timing the arrival of spring by the first flush of roses. This week-- finally-- the roses started blooming. And judging from the number and state of buds on nearly every rosebush, next week should be spectacular!

My current favorite of the Knockout family, Rainbow Knockout:

The bourbon climber, Zephirine Drouhin. This is the first bloom I've gotten from her, and the second spring she's been in my garden. Although this rose has a reputation for blooming in the shade, I think it's too shady against the fence where I put her. Nevertheless, I am pleased to report that the fragrance of this rose is every bit as decadent as I was promised. Moreover, even though this is the only bud on Z. Drouhin as far as I can see, I still love this plant for the purplish foliage. I use it as backdrop for the grey-green leaves of the salvia leucantha.

In the battle of the bourbons, Souvenir de la Malmaison here is taking a beating. Although covered in buds, none of them open more than this. Why? It's a mystery:

The area with the most sun in my garden, and hence, the most roses. Against the fence is the found rose "Maggie" being trained as a climber. In front of her and to the left of the blue pot is the Earthkind rose "Belinda's Dream." And in front of Belinda's Dream is our sad bourbon, Souvenir de la Malmaison:

Mexican Buckeye in bloom. It's not a traffic-stopping spectacle like the redbud, but the flowers are interesting close-up:

Madame Alfred Carriere, doing its white-hat best to de-uglify the mesquite:

Eupatorium "Blue Mist" from the Antique Rose Emporium. I had no idea that they grew anything but roses!

Perennial dusty miller and its shadow. I prefer the so-called "perennial" (We'll see about that!) dusty miller to the more common fuzzy variety. This looks grey and dramatic instead of moldy:

The long-awaited flowering of the Double Knockout! Sadly, the first flower is a scary shade of bright tomato-tinged red that clashes with everything in my garden. Eek! (I think it hurt the camera's eyes too, since this picture does not make me wince nearly enough.) This bad color surprise happened when I bought the hybrid tea "Alec's Red" as well. Roses vary quite a bit in color based on the temperature, but reds seem to be the most dramatic about it, alternating between warm and cool, much to my dismay:

Archduke Charles seems to have recovered from hosting an entomological bow-chicka-wow-wow just fine. I guess that makes sense, since roses are the flowers of loooooooovvvve!

And I apologize now for the lame thing I'm about to say, but it's contractually obligated:

It's snail thyme!

Pink-flowering oxalis. I thought I'd killed it all with all of the moving around of plants I did this winter while most things were dormant, but it's coming up in places I barely remember putting it. The purple-leafed version is coming up around stuff I accidently planted on top of it. I ought to check whether any of that brave oxalis is four-leafed!

Meyer lemon blossoms. Smells like the air freshener I use in the car, only better! (Citrus Magic rocks!)

Anacacho orchid tree (Bauhinia congesta):

English rose "Abraham Darby" trying out a lavender-and-peach look:

And this poor, innocent bystander exclaims, "That's it! I've had it up to HERE with flowers!"

English rose "Abraham Darby"

My English rose "Abraham Darby" sits in a pot and looks ugly for most of the year. It's an awkward bush, with long stems jutting out at weird angles, covered by huge thorns. You have to navigate carefully around its pot or spend minutes untangling your clothes from the branches. And not only is this bush particularly ugly and lacking in grace, the foliage is prone to blackpot and burns in the sun. That said, "Abraham Darby" is probably the most oft-photographed and oft-smelled single plant in my garden. Why?

Three days ago, this happened:

This picture is from some time last year, probably around March or April 2007. This rose's stems are too thin to support the huge, heavy flowers, so I had to give them a little help to get a good picture. You can also see how much the color and form varies from flower to flower over time, starting out very saturated and then fading to blush pink and the palest yellow:

"Abraham Darby" is without question happiest in cool weather, and rarely blooms in hot weather, as it did in the summer of 2006. Here, the flowers are much smaller and paler, and no color variation is present:

Winter blooms are the most saturated, with distinct yellow and pink areas. This flower was produced during the ice storm in January 2007. I hauled the pot against the outside of the house protected by the covered deck, threw a blanket over the bush, and then snuck outside every few hours to take a nice hit of its incredible rose-and-citrus scent:

Nodding flower in the afternoon sun:




















This may be an ugly bush that is constantly unhappy with our Texas climate, which bursts fully into bloom maybe twice a year if I'm lucky, but when "Abraham Darby" flowers, I am mesmerized.