Beauty and the Beast. . .

I'll start with the beauty, since the beast is such a Fresh Hell. Hats off to Dorothy Parker for immortalizing that phrase. It has never, in my life, been more spot on.  

John took the picture of these Jack-in-the-pulpits. Pretty amazing, isn't it? They are really tough to spot on the forest floor. They are also, according to the internet, extremely poisonous. Sort of a variation of "pretty with teeth". I'm going to wander down to this spot everyday to see how they progress. I may even remember to bring my phone, so stay tuned.

The Fresh Hell Beast is this disease that is showing up all over our region. It's called Beech Leaf Disease, and as far as we can see, it's infecting almost all of our Beech trees. This is devastating, under any circumstance, more so given how much of our forest is beech. The Maine Forestry Service says it is "associated" with a non-native nematode. (see Beech Leaf Disease)

The disease first showed up in Ohio in 2012, but by 2020 has reached all the way up Maine, and across to Michigan. The spread seems to be much more eastward than westward.

Small trees on our property are already dead from it, and we can see it in the over story, though not the highest over story. I have a dread that I can hardly write that it will infect our beautiful Copper Beech, which, as I said in an earlier post, had an unusual leafing out pattern this year. We don't see the distorted leaves yet.

John once commented that it must have been a horrific sight when all of the American Chestnut forests died. Miles and miles of dead mature forest. My chest gets tight, my eyes tear.

What webs we weave. 

Before I forget. . .

Lady Slipper

 Jasper and I had an unexpectedly amazing walk yesterday. I dared to go to the Sanders Hill trail, which can be overrun with black flies and mosquitos this time of year. We have literally been run off this trail by clouds of mosquitos in the past. I risked it because. . . did I already say this?. . .it was unseasonably cool. Sometimes the black flies and mosquitos stay home in cooler weather.

It was nothing but good news. The black flies and mosquitos did not make an appearance, and the Lady Slippers and Trillium are REALLY showing off right now. Their bloom is not long lived, so it's a real treat when one gets to experience it. I Was glad that I had a coat on. It was initially chilly, but we warmed as we hiked. It's not an easy hike.

I couldn't have been more thankful for the reminder that even in cool springs, central Maine is worth the trouble. I didn't see another soul on this hike. The trails is rooty and rocky, but then, that's the forest in Maine. Lots of rocks. A ton of trees.

The forget-me-nots were also putting on a show,

Seeing the Trillium and the Lady Slippers remind me a lot of hunting for morels. You don't see them until you see the first one. And then, you can see them everywhere.

This is a favorite fall and winter hike, but I'm really glad Jasper and I made the trip. So much hidden treasure.

 

I have an idea. . .

Bleeding hearts

So. After the whining comes the realization that a lot is going right in the garden and nature right now. So my job is to document that too. It shouldn't be so easy to focus on the Bad Stuff. And while working in the garden is harder for me now than it was when I was in my prime, it's A Lot easier than it was last year, pre-surgery. Yay. For the resilience of the natural world, Western medicine, and a doc who was willing to invest his talent in me. Very. Yay.

For some reason the volume of the bleeding hears surprise me every year. They are in deep shade in the summer, but this time of year, before the Copper Beech above them leafs out, they are a marvel. Generous and beautiful. The daffodils and tulips are done, by the way, as are the Scylla and the snow drops.

Blueberry blossoms

One of my blueberry cultivars is in full bloom. Note the lack of bees, though. This cool cloudy weather is wonderful to work in, but not-so-great for pollination. The blueberries will do ok without it, but I'm afraid the apples (in a later image) will fail to set fruit.

A budding columbine

The Columbine is just starting a run at blooming. This one is in the middle of a ton of Lily-of-the-Valley, which is blooming!

Weeping Crabapple

The weeping crab apple is just spectacular this year. She suckers like a thing possessed, but I knocked the usurpers back this morning.

Geraniums

Siberian Bugloss

The geraniums (also called Cranesbill) are just tuning up. They are also threatening a spectacular bloom this year.

 

Siberian Bugloss, or Brunera, is in full throat right now. It's a delicate voice, but utterly beguiling. And long after the flowers fade, the leaves enchant.

Peach blossoms past petal fall

The peach blossoms are on to the next stage now. Only a few petals are still hanging on, and she is start to contemplate the gestation of many offspring. Oh dear. I hope she was pollinated adequately. We did have some warmer weather when her blossom were at full tilt.

Apple blossom

The above is a crabapple. She also had incredibly abundant blossoms this year. To the right is a later blooming apple tree. I'm not holding out a lot of hope for a crop, but it could happen. These plants have, after all, evolved to produce seeds, and the fruit is bound up in that. We'll see.

Lilac flowers

And then there are the lilacs. I cut some large very old branches out of this one during winter pruning. I'm hoping that plant physiology will work, and that the pruning will inspire the plant to throw up new young shoots.

Candles on a dwarf blue spruce

 Other things are happening too. The evergreens are all showing off their candles (the hemlocks are particularly charming), the asparagus are starting to fill in after we have cut them for (perhaps) too long, and the rhubarb.

Asparagus

 

Rhubarb!

Good grief. The rhubarb. She's like exotic animal trying to free herself from the confines of a domestic garden. Large lush leaves showing off and looking for escape at the same time.

Phlox

The phlox is just starting to bloom, amid the seedlings of ash and oak. The oak mast was overwhelming last year, and we'll be weeding oak seedlings out of the garden beds for years to come.

Double file viburnum

The Double-file Viburnum are just tuning up, promising their annual show in the near future.

Beleaguered Rhododendrons

Finally, a word about the rhododendrons. They were so hurt by. . the winter? The two very wet cool seasons? Being ignored? We don't have many flower buds this year, which is unusual. But while I wasn't a lover of this plant for a long time, I've come to appreciate her glossy green leaves that stay with us throughout the seasons. I love the way they combat the cold by rolling up like so many pencils, and then coming back flat when temperatures warm.

A late cool spring. . .

Weeping Crap Apple and Copper Beech

It's been a strange spring. I hustled to get my vegetable transplants in because the weather was warming (and no temps below 40F in sight), but everything has stopped for the last week or so. There have also been some post-winter trauma in our rhododendrons, and my lovely huge lupine is just barely coming back. Likewise, one of my apple trees. . .my best producer (Macoun, I think) is leafing out erratically, and hardly had any flowers on it.

The latter issue isn't completely unexpected, since she had a good sized crop last year, and some cultivars do have alternate year bearing habits. But it's more than that. . .the leaves are sparse and some are quite small.

On the good news front, the weeping crab apple is at her most glorious this year. But notice the Copper Beech behind her. It's leafing out late, which is usual, but is also displaying an unusual pattern of leafing out, with the top way ahead of the lower branches. Oh the worry of a plants-person.

Tree Fall. How depressing

My garden journal tells me that we are about a week behind last year, in terms of leafing out and blooming. Olivia, my Cornus kousa, is also late. I'm thinking that we may have had more cold injury than usual this year. We had an extended period of single digits when there wasn't much snow on the ground. That may be the issue. And after two wet seasons, everyone had wet feet for most of the summer.

Jasper. Not depressing at all

I've also had cause to wonder what a healthy Maine forest looks like. We've had so much tree fall in our woods. Some of that is normal, I'm sure, but I can't help but wonder if we're seeing some climate change effects on these woods. We had to clear a lot of fallen trees off one of our trails. It was after a big storm, and where the trees that had grown up on the perimeter of the forest had been removed. So it may have just been human caused carelessness. It is hard to know what is caused by changing climate, and what falls within the realm of normal weather fluctuations.

It's hard not to feel a little blue, waiting for Spring to come. I planted a couple of Ranunculus corms and a Giant Brunnera root today. And an image of Jasper never fails to bring a smile.

May Drama and. . .

 

The rebirth of the land is always miraculous to me. I think of it as The Great Unfurling. It starts with a green haze, and fern fists raising out of the ground, and moves on to the lush landscape that I love in Maine. To be fair, it always feels about 3 weeks later than it should be here. And I don't remember being quite this thirsty for it in previous years. I expect it's the stress of the political upheaval. Spring reminds us that things come around again. At least this year.

The green haze moves like a cloud shadow over the landscape. I appreciate the fact that the conifers remain green all year, but my heart really belongs to the deciduous trees that seem to die and rise up year after year.

I had some big electronic drama a couple of weeks ago, which is to say that I actually have a reason for being so long between posts. I accidentally locked down my phone and other i- devices, and it appeared that I had lost all of my contacts, photos, the whole mess. I'm not overly concerned about any of the photos except the ones with John and Jasper in them, but still. I had stopped using the cloud because it was always annoying me. 

 

But. Then a shocking thing happened. About 3 days after the scurrying about with it. . .the "I am too dependent on my phone" recriminations, and the "How could I be so stupid" lashings, the photos just reappeared. Looks like I won't be dropping Apple products after all. So much time wasted, though, and a lot of investment from my most noble IT person. What patience that man has.

And here's a most positive harbinger of the growing season! Asparagus. These were our first this season. I have a complicated relationship with asparagus. The taste and smell of them takes me back to sitting at my childhood dining room table, chewing and chewing and chewing, trying to swallow the very fibrous stems of the overcooked spears. Growing and harvesting your own, and removing the tough bottoms, is a whole 'nother deal, of course, but the memory remains. Still. We had 2 lovely dinners based on them (a pizza and an orzo casserole that John made), and they're still giving us food, with the rhubarb coming in fast on their heels. And ack. I still have some rhubarb in the freezer. What. Wealth.

And. By our somewhat questionable calculation, Jasper is 15 years old today. We're not sure that's right. When I questioned his rancher/breeder/owner on Mother's Day of 2020, he said he was 10. He didn't look 10 to me then, and when I said that, the rancher said "I'm not sure. He might be 8". He has a lot of dogs, and a Whole Lot More sheep, so he can be forgiven. Jasper is quite deaf, and his eyesight can't always track the tennis ball. But he hiked a mountain with us today, and greatly enjoyed the picnic at the top. Happy Mother's Day to all of us who have ever nurtured another. And Happy Birthday to you, Jasper. Whenever it may be.