Mom's dwarf irises
My Mom's rockgarden
When my Mom tells a story it never moves in a straight line from start to finish; instead is zigzags off in all crazy directions and sometimes doubles back on the same path for a second or third telling.
There seems to be a certain urgency to her stories these days. On her birthday in October, she'll be ninety.
Usually at this time of year, Mom likes nothing better than to be out working in her garden, but a clogged artery, which hinders the flow of blood to her heart, has left her weak and without energy. She is so thin and frail that it seems as though a strong gust of wind might blow her away.
Last week, I spent as much of my time at home in Nova Scotia as I could listening to her stories.
Rhododendrons and gorgeous azaleas, like this pale pink one, were one of the many
beautiful sights in Truro, N.S.
One afternoon, we two gardeners conspired to drag my poor old Dad up to Truro to see the famous rock garden (seen above). On another morning, Mom and I drove out along the south shore to the Chester Basin to visit with Brenda, who turned out to be just as lovely in person as she is in her blog.
Though Mom was as excited as I was to visit some of these local gardens, being active quickly took a toll on her. Half was through our visit to my friend Donna's garden, Mom got winded and had to take a seat while I finished taking photographs.
I fear poor Donna, who kept her company that afternoon while I worked, heard as many of my Mom's stories as I did!
I arrived back home in Toronto last Thursday night.
On Friday morning a small fleet of trucks and heavy equipment arrived to take down the two trees that were damaged in last winter's ice storm. This task took a team of eight burly fellows a full day to complete. Hubby took these pictures of the big event:
One of the finer moments from this year's Through the Garden Gate tour
Then on Saturday I was off to Through the Garden Gate, which turned out to be hugely disappointing for the first time ever. Those multi-million dollar homes and their gardens simply didn't hold a candle to some of the gardens I had just seen in Nova Scotia.
It just goes to show you that money really can't buy everything! A little creativity and a genuine love of gardening go a long, long way.
False Indigo, Baptisia in my garden
In my absence, my garden seems to have grown by leaps and bounds. Among other things, I missed taking pictures of all the purple alliums and lilacs in flower.
Gas plant, Dictamnus albus in the front garden.
So far this spring, I have barely touched the front garden, but it seems to have soldiered on without me.
All my peonies are starting to open, including this fragrant white one.
As well as weeding, I have an absolute ton of photos to sort though from my trip to Nova Scotia. Here is a preview of Donna's wonderful garden:
Donna has an amazing collection of rhododendrons and magnolias.
Primula in Donna's woodland garden.
And then there is Jacquie's garden. Here's another preview:
The upper terrace in Jacquie's garden.
Columbine shining in the light of early evening.
Jacquie's "Flower" fairy who presides over the lower part of the garden from
top of a stump of an old crabapple tree.
Geum in Jacquie's garden
I also have a whole slew of pictures from the rock garden in Truro, as well as pictures from the Halifax YMCA's annual garden tour to work through.
And in the coming week, I hope to catch up with all my blogging friends.