Flowers this week

The first of the ‘Coral Charm’ peonies opened today. Just one. By the time I found it, the bees were all over it. A couple of rows over, a male ruby-throated hummingbird was filling up at one of the native red-and-yellow columbines that had come up from seed beside one of the roses. There is food about; flying things are going after the nectar and pollen.

Watching the peonies in early May is a vigil. Just as I do with the tulips in mid-April, I go out several times a day to try to cut at the right stage, which for me is when the flowers are just beginning to open, fully colored. The blooms are going straight to the end user or will get into their hands very quickly (everything goes quickly at the Merc, the only retailer I sell to regularly), so I can wait to cut them until this stage. Last week I cut all the earliest singles, from six ‘Sugar ‘N Spice’ plants; they surprised me, as they do every year. This variety doesn’t smell wonderful, but I added a couple of stems of coral sweet William to sweeten them up and heard that these simple bouquets sold out in three hours at the store. Once the ‘Coral Charm’ open, the peony train will run until nearly the end of May.

I can’t tell if the last year of lockdown has deepened the desire for flowers and the appreciation for local ones or if it’s mostly a matter of my surrendering to the idea of selling flowers on an everyday basis, not just saving myself for more lucrative, self-contained wedding work. But now that I do offer the flowers, there is more demand than I can supply. I do not know how much energy to put into growing and selling flowers; it is hard work. That is another subject.

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This evening the sun is bright, and two or three more peonies may open. A few other flowers, all fall-planted hardy annuals, bloom with the peonies throughout their season:

—The sweet William; I grow the ‘Sweet’ cultivar in coral, white and black cherry (dark red). These are the colors I find useful.

—Certain varieties of snapdragons: ‘Chantilly’ in white and salmon tones; ‘Costa Apricot’, and then the ‘Madame Butterfly’.

—Orlaya, a lacy white umbel-flowered plant that grows from direct-sown seed; I neither water nor thin the plants. One stem adds a little lace to anything. I don’t try hard to harvest all this. I make sure I have enough and use what I need.

—Bupleurum, which can function as foliage and gives me some beautiful warm-bright chartreuse. Everyone flower grower who can grow this should.

The foxglove was a beautiful crop when I planted it out in the fall, but the fall was long and warm, and the plants grew large. The fall was windy and ripped up the row cover, and I gave the plants extra cover, which I was glad for in the middle of winter, when we had intense cold. But after the polar vortex came in February, it got warm under that cover, and the aphids moved into the comfortable environment and went to work on the juicy plants. The past three evenings I have been out spraying—I should have gotten there much sooner—using a solution of Dr. Bronner’s soap, which was entirely effective, as I expected.

This is only the second time in six years that I have had an infestation of any kind that was bad enough that I had to spray (the exception is the Japanese beetles, which ruin the roses every year, so that I can use them only in June and September, and I can’t do much about them). I had given up hope of saving the foxglove; I only wanted to get the aphids out of my farm so I could save other crops, which are more resistant than foxglove anyway. But this evening the foxglove looks as if it might throw some useful blooms after all.

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The perennial false indigo, a native, is blooming. The cream species is low and arching and works in container arrangements; the blue is tall and straight and can work in bouquets.

I’m also noticing various cool-season grasses, all introduced to this region, all useful, that are heading out. My favorite is the orchard grass, which Mom says is not invasive. It has a head of several soft, thick green flowers and can be cut early, when it’s more tight and compact, or later, as it grows taller and the flowering head branches out a bit. It dismays me to see all this mowed down by the City in early May along the levee trail, where there is so much of it.

The snowball viburnum is loaded with blooms that are still green, and the ninebark is covered with bud clusters. The spirea is out. Other shrubs are not far behind.

One loss I didn’t expect from the polar vortex that came in February was the lavender. I had about 30 mature plants of the aptly named variety ‘Phenomenal’ that provided a good round of flowers and also foliage that is perfect for crowns and other short-stem work. There are a few green shoots around the base of some of the plants, but they are mostly dried and lost. I have more coming. We’ll see how much they grow this year. They will arrive next week.