Jack-in-the-Pulpit

Since I have been distracted in running another blog for the church this last month, I have some catching up to do.  I will begin with the still small collection of Jack-in-the-Pulpits that I have.  Only three varieties, though I could easily buy many more.

This is an Arisaema serratum, bought at a National Arboretum sale a few years ago.  It is the earliest of the varieties to bloom, and shoots up to three feet tall before that pitcher-shaped bloom appears.  This grows up so early, the toad lilies that will grow up later and hide its dying leaves have just stuck their first leaves out of the ground.  The serratum leaves are very narrow and spiky, creating a slightly creepy effect that looks like something out of a vampire movie.

Unfortunately, as you can tell from the background of vinyl siding at the top and cinder block foundation at the bottom, it's setting is not the most attractive.  But I can guarantee you that it is so exciting to see the growing spear point coming out of the ground announcing its arrival, that you don't really care.  You saw this in the previous blog entry for the End of March.  See, I did come through with the promised pictures.

The next ones to come up are some native Jack-in-the-Pulpits that I rescued several years ago from the side of the ravine.  The ravine, which fairly regularly has had times when the soil gets wet and the sides slide down to the bottom, had exposed a clump of the arisaema.  I did not want to wait to see if it would survive the location where it was newly exposed to full sunlight, so I dug out a small portion and moved it up alongside the house.  That was my first time to deal with the plants, and I was surprised to discover they have a small bulb in the ground.  This makes it fairly easy to move them around since there are not lots of long roots.

The native ones are plain in comparison with the more exotic varieties with a mostly green pitcher and short in stature.  But as the native, they have a claim to space before all the rest, and usually have the largest clumps of bright red berries in the Fall.

Finally, here is the Arisaema sikokianum, a Japanese variety that the Plant Delights Nursery describes as "circumcised!"  That is one sample of their humorous plant descriptions, which goes on to say about this variety "since Arisaema sikokianum doesn't offset or engage in sexual self-satisfaction, you'll need more than one to start a family."  At the current prices, this one will have to tough it out on its own, so it has not had a display of red berry babies in the Fall.  I don't know that I could handle the sight of a large clump of these.

But maybe I should end its celibate life and buy another? All of the baby plants could be sold at the church's May Fest.  These would always be blooming at the time of the sale, and they could be sold at really great prices, spreading across the county!   Every year I give the Episcopal Church Women some of my rapidly expanding clump of Acanthus plants, they sell out of them rapidly.

I suspect the native plant society is not happy with me.

End of March

As the end of March arrives, there are a few of the newly planted bulbs showing their flowers in the labyrinth, and many others with buds emerging from the ground.

There is a dramatic difference from last year, when the narrow flower beds between the grass paths were bare.  The idea is to fill them with bulbs, which provide growth and color when the perennials are just beginning to break through the mulch.  Then, after the bulbs die back, the sections will remain empty, contrasting to the rest packed with flowers.  The idea belongs to Harold Nicolson's Lime Walk at Sissinghurst, what he called "My Life's Work" which I hope to see in full bloom some day.  

You see the one of the first narcissus in the front, a variety called Marijke, with pale yellow back petals, and a deep orange, ruffled trumpet.  What the description in the catalog left out is the way the flower faces down to the ground, so the orange trumpet is not even visible.  All that can be seen while standing and walking are the yellow petals.  This shy flower requires getting down on the ground, and looking over/up into the flower to finally see the orange trumpet.  Since the stem is only about six inches tall, you really have to get down low.  I am disappointed with its garden appearance, but as they build up clumps, I imagine many of these will be cut and brought indoors, so that they can bring their fresh brightness up-close on the dining room table.  It also means that next year there will be something else planted alongside these to provide some other color.  Although when I look closely, I see that they are mixed in with something else further back from the entrance of the path.

Another place of excitement are the red leaves rising up from the Itoh hybrid peony called Kopper Kettle.  I found this at the National Arboretum sale last year, and it was a fully grown plant when I bought it, so I did not realize the initial color of the leaves would be this gorgeous.  This is a cross between a herbaceous and a tree peony, so the stems are heavier and stronger that the usual herbaceous, and the densely double flowers are described in one catalog as golden yellow, orange and red.  It is a rich and wonderful display, and I hope the plant will not need the wire supports that are required to keep the rest of the peonies from collapsing in a heap on the ground with the first heavy rain.  I hope this goes well with the peonies that were brought from the homestead in New York and a few other picked up along the way!  One catalog says that it might even re-bloom once it is established - I will be amazed if it will do that!

On the north side of the house, with some of the early Sunday morning snow beneath it, is the gallantly struggling tree peony, brought out from our property in the city. Here are the much smaller buds on the tips of the woody branches, beginning to unfurl.  This section of the yard is more protected, so the hellebores, bulbs and other peonies are actually ahead of the same varieties in the labyrinth area, even though they are not getting much sun at all.  Being on the north side of one section of the house, and the west side of another, they only get late afternoon sun in the middle of the summer, yet that is enough to keep them going.  Planted around the various stems of the tree peony are dog-tooth violets, or trout lilies - Erythronium pagoda.  I first grew these in my full-shade yard in the city, and fell in love with them.  The open-bell shaped flowers just make me smile.  I am pleased to see them multiplying and making bigger and bigger patches.  By the time the peony has fully leafed out, the Erythroniums are dying back and disappearing into the ground.  They are a perfect pairing!

Finally, I cannot resist a portrait of Four Paws, reluctant though she was to stay in place while I focused and clicked the shutter.  She is sitting next to the pointed stem of a Jack-in-the-Pulpit bought a few years ago from the National Arboretum.  This stem will reach two feet before the flower will grow on its top, far above any of the surrounding foliage.  In front of where the dog is sitting there is a clump of native Jack-in-the-Pulpit I moved up from the steep side of the ravine, where it was being threatened by erosion.  There is a third one, still underground, about where I am squatting to take the photo.  Pictures and names will be listed when they are blooming.  It is a fun, small collection, and I could easily become a fanatic since they are simple to grow and delightful in their variety.

Hopefully, today was the last snow of the year, and the weather will move out of the 40's next week.