Early-Flowering
Shrubs
by Alec McCarter May 2002
Early-flowering shrubs
and companion plants are once again rewarding us for giving them space and care
in our garden. The woods and fields are
responding to the warmth and light as our northern world comes back once more
into the lengthening days.
Witch hazels, starting
before Christmas were accompanied by snowdrops and an underplanting of
Aconites. Planted under a huge
vase-shaped Hamamelis x ‘Pallida’, Aconites made a large bright yellow
cover for the dark earth, almost exactly matching the yellow of the fine
ribbons of the hazel’s bloom. Now
yellow crocuses have taken over from these earlier-flowering plants and are
reflecting the greenish-yellow masses of tiny flowers of Cornus mas.
Cascades of pearly
flowers of Pieris tumble from the leafy branches almost to the ground. Both the Pieris and a fragrant Chinese
honeysuckle have spring-decreed replication on their non-existent planty minds
or are merely playing out the coded messages that evolution has written into
their genes. Take whichever explanation
you prefer. These shrubs have defied
the light frosts of recent weeks and advertise their reproductive readiness by
perfuming the air in the hopes, perhaps, of attracting hungry insects to carry
their pollen to another place. There is
a minuscule chance that the pollen will not be wasted but it is the way for the
selfish chromosomes to perpetuate themselves.
At the south-west corner
of the house a sprawling Acer japonica of the highly dissected, purple-leaf
variety is a mass of attractively contorted bare branches. Under them yellow crocuses lighten the
shade. At the drip-line of the maple,
fully-double snowdrops have bloomed from early January to mid-March. The bulbs of these plants have bloomed and
spread year after year. The maple leafs
out late enough to allow the bulbs to mature and the fallen leaves seem to
provide all the nourishment that they need.
Past the ends of the branches there is strong sunlight. Deep blue, scented English violets provide a
pleasant transition to the lawn beyond.
Cornus mas, now a mass of yellow, is like a cloud floating at
head-level. Nearby, Rhododendron
dauricum is in flower. I have
cut some branches to take to my wife.
They, and branches of Cornus mas have withstood the warmth
of her room and have lasted in bloom for nearly a week without drooping or
dropping. The combination of the
soft-yellow, fluffy bunches of tiny petals is surprisingly effective in an arrangement
with the pink, flaring flowers of dauricum.
While they were blooming,
witch-hazels ‘Pallida’, ‘Copper Beauty’ and ‘Diane’, perfumed the air with
delicious scent – familiar from long-ago days as that of a lotion that barbers
used to lay down the unruly hair of a lively, young boy.
There are two more
witch-hazels in the garden behind the house – but they are not blooming. It remains to be seen whether or not they
are dead. If they have died, it was
because last summer they did not get enough water to sustain them. Those at the front of the house are in more
shade and in soil that is more retentive of water. They have performed magnificently.
A Corylopsis
pauciflora, now about a meter high and twice as wide, is underplanted with
dark-red Cowichan strain of Primula julianae, and a few brilliantly blue
Chionodoxa sardensis. Later,
masses of blue Tritelia uniflora will join them. This is a very effective combination of
yellows, blues and reds which is repeated every year and is eagerly awaited by
us. Why the shrub should have the name
‘pauciflora’ is beyond my understanding because there is no paucity of
bloom!
The earliest flowers of
Camellias can now be seen in gardens nearer the sea than ours. It is a pity that so often the flowers are
blasted by late frosts. And I note that
the Indian plums (Oemleria cerasiformis) near the south margin of the
University gardens, are blooming and producing a mist of green under the
protecting oaks. Once again, Victoria’s
streets are lined with magenta flowering plums, and small trees still bearing the
orange fruits that have lasted all winter, are now replacing them with swelling
buds. Spring is here again and the
flower count has once more produced its boast of billions. We live in a blessed land.