There was a time when I had no affection or interest in yellow.  This was so many years ago I cannot remember the reasons why.  When I came to my gardening senses, I realized that yellow is a good symbol for sunny.  The color reads clearly from a distance.  And it is the first cousin of the best-chartreuse.  I live in a state whose grey days are many.  Sunny colored flowers are so welcome, and mix amiably with other colors.  Yellow can leaven the visual mass of dark flowers.  I like arrangements that are airy-physically airy, as in varying heights.  And visually airy.  

The much discussed, and usually maligned forsythia-I love the coming of its sunny yellow flowers.  Do I need this shrub to satisfy everything I require from a great shrub? No.  But I am grateful for its forthright announcement that spring is in progress.  The masses of  forsythia on Forsythia Hill at Dunbarton Oaks in the spring-stunning.  Masses of yellow blooms look good to me on a spring day.  That yellow is a profusely but simply worded hello-it is spring. 

This tulip-another idea about spring yellow altogether. This double Darwin tulip, Akebono, was new to me last year.  I was not aware there were any double Darwins.  The shape is very unusual.  The tips of the petals are berry red; the anthers and bases of the petals jet black.  This yellow spring flower is as elegant as it is frilly.  The flowers are very large.  This so sunny tulip would be the inspiration for my spring garden at the shop.  

 Inspiration for a garden can come from a number of places.  A color, a season, a place remembered, a shape.  Inspiration does not necessarily imply revelation-an inspiration can be a little thing.  That particular tulip enchanted me-Enchantment is a good town in which to build a home. I chose 3 other tulips to accompany the Akebono tulips.  A cream yellow, a clear medium yellow, and an intense yellow.  They are all late tulips-only the Akebono are in bloom now.

Last night we watered the tulips thoroughly with a fine spray.  The forecasted temperature overnight-28. Well watered soil helps repel frost-as does late overhead irrigation.  Though it may seem to be the wrong thing to do, water that freezes releases heat.  The frozen water actually protects the petals themselves from a hard freeze. Tulips close up at night-sensible spring flowers, these.  The Akebono tulips took the shower in stride.  

The tulip flowers have managed to survive a pair of extremely cold nights.  Warmer days and nights will bring on the other yellow tulips

What to put in the window boxes to celebrate that inspiring tulip?  Chartreuse is a very close relative to yellow, and it is everywhere in the spring.  The maple flowers-chartreuse.  The new growth on euonymus, boxwood, taxus, privet-chartreuse.  Need I say more?  In the corners of the boxes, we ran support lines up the shutters, and planted a chartreuse leaved hops.  At the base-lettuce.  I could not tell you the variety, but I could talk all day long about the color. 

This clear lemon yellow pansy is as dramatic as the Akebono tulips, but on a much smaller scale.  Spring container plants tend to be diminutive and delicate-these flowers are giants in a world populated by violas, annual phlox, violets, hepatica, forget me nots, and trout lilies.  Pansies do have faces-smiling faces.  What gardener would refuse to smile back. (Thanks MS, for this observation-you are so right!)   

In the center of my window boxes, a pair of 2 gallon asparagus plants.  The new shoots speak to spring.  I have always had an interest in the relationship between agriculture and ornamental horticulture.  I think most landscapes have an important relationshiop with agriculture that requires addressing.  I cannot really explain this, but landscapes that arbitraily sever any connection with that history seen overwrought, self important, and lifeless.  I think my attachment to European gardens has so much to do with how the food and the flowers commingle in practical ways, and romantic ways- to make a good life. 

My good life is powered right now by the spring flowers.  Some annual, some perennial.  Some showy, some sturdy.  These whiskered picotee violas have no problem celebrating, and representing the hubbub that is spring.

My window boxes need some time, and some warm weather to grow in, and grow up.  What a pleasure- to at long last have my hands in the dirt.

As my landscape superintendent was on holiday this past week, my time was largely devoted to my crew.  But I finally had the time to read through the second issue of Leaf Magazine.  This digital magazine is the brainchild of Susan Cohan (noted garden designer and author of the garden blog Miss Rumphius Rules) and Rochelle Greayer (garden designer, and author of  the garden blog Studio G).  The issue really is quite remarkable, and fresh.  142 pages worth, chock full of interesting topics, great writers and writing, and excellent photography.  My favorite article?  The Bark Garden, by Ken Druse.  The photographs by Clive Nichol  are breathtaking.  The article about flower markets around the world was so interesting.  I am not one bit surprised that they already have 80,000 subscribers.  But don’t take my word for it, look for your yourself.   

http://www.leafmag.com/site/

I planted a magnolia not unlike this one for a client 25 years ago.  She called to tell me it was in full bloom-would I care to come take a look?  Did I mention it was in full bloom in March, due to a jet stream anomaly?  Needless to say, I did not make it there in time.  2 nights ago, the overnight temp was 25 degrees.  A blast of arctic air out of Canada blew a huge hole in my jet-stream configured, and unprecedented March.  Magnolias are entirely susceptible to early spring frosts, not to mention early spring heat.  I have 12 magnolias in my yard-none of them bit on this March season.    

 It’s a very good idea to have other reasons to plant magnolias besides their enormous and breathtakingly beautiful flowers.  You might have those flowers for a few days, given an unfriendly spring. Nonetheless,  I have planted lots of them.  I like their large glossy leaves.  I like their ghostly grey and smooth bark. I like their low and wide structure.  Thier structure is penetrating-this I cannot really explain.  There are good reasons to have magnolias in every season. 

 They are well suited to small urban gardens.  I have lots of them in my neighborhood, planted inches from the foundation of the house.  I know how that tree came to be in those yards.  A homeowner saw a small tree in full bloom at a nursery in the spring.  They fell like a rock for those flowers.  They brought the little tree home, and planted it in a bed at the corner of the house about 3 feet in depth.  Who wants to deal with more than 3 feet of bed?  Decades later, those trees purchased over a momentary infatuation are still thriving.   

Yesterday I came home at 10 am to take the frost blankets off of my hellebores.  My Galaxy magnolia is a hybrid who parentage includes the bloom frost prone magnolia soulangiana. Those gorgeous hot pink blooms were a droopy black mess.  This tree has grown a lot in the past 11 years-too much for me to cover.  The flowers came on very suddenly, given our run of over 70 degree weather.      

Even in full bloom, they drooped from the out of season March heat.  As much as I am furious that these flowers were tricked into opening, I know they had no other choice but to pull the trigger, and bloom.  The idea that biology is destiny is great in the context of a textbook, but the reality was heartbreaking.  They were my pleasure for 1.5 days.   

 The gooey black mass of frosted flowers still hang on my trees.  Last year the petals fell in a timely way, and quietly.  This is the best my driveway has ever looked. 

This magnolia Stellata was but a 3 foot tall start wehen I bought this house.  It has grown slowly and steadily over the past 15 years.  It is always the first thing to bloom in my garden.  This year, March 16.   

The individual flowers are incredibly beautiful.  I have been known to go out stand up close to this tree for some time early in the spring.  Buck always pretends not to notice-this is just one of the things I really like about him.  He is really tolerant of my love for magnolias.  They bloom for such a short time, even in a moderate spring.  My idea-take it in while you can-damn the torpedoes.

 At 10 the next morning after the frost, I see the telltale signs.  The stellata blooms are drooping, sagging from the gravity of the frost.  The PJM rhododendron in the foreground-no trace remains today of those flowers, but tufts of papery brown where the flowers once were. 

I have 8 Butterflies magnolias underplanted with boxwood in the front of my house.  This photograph I took 2 days ago.  I knew the flower buds would not survive a hard frost. 

This picture from last spring represents my most favorite spring moment.  Those pale yellow green blooms set on top of the branches-exquisite.

My yellow magnolias are thriving.  They endow my front yard garden every season of the year.  I am sure you can tell by now that I am a fan.  Any species, any hybrid which tolerates my zone, I plant them.  The magnolias-bring them on.  I take the time to try and interest clients in them.  I cannot bring myself to post the picture I took of the yellow Butterflies buds today.  That clear pale yellow pointed bud is now an ochre brown color.  No flowers this year.  It is not so hard to get used to this idea, knowing that other gardeners in other parts of the country are living through multiple days of killing frosts. My trees will be beautiful this season.  Next spring might mean spectacular flowers.  In my hope chest, flowers on the Butterflies magnolias next year. 

 We do cut flowers and props for weddings, parties and events on occasion.  I particularly enjoy creating a landscape to celebrate a specific moment, and that moment only.  A beautifully imagined and executed event enchants the eye from that first moment, and can provide a framework around which great memories are created.    

A good client participates in a one a year fundraiser for the educational programs at her synagogue.  Participants create a Passover table around a theme of their own choosing.  Tickets are sold, both to a luncheon, and an evening event.   

My client has a big love for her part in this event.   We may meet in November preceeding this late February event.  We will meet three or four times subsequent to that, in order to have a plan in place.  She also has a highly critical eye, and is willing to do what it takes to get every detail just to her liking.    

My part in this?  Part advisor, part fabricator, part problem solver, part fifth business.  Fifth business?  This is the one person in the opera who knows the relationships between all of the main characters, and keeps the audience apprised.  When I am good, I am the fifth business.  I try to anticipate the what will fit in and frame the space, what will go together quickly, what will represent the theme, and what will create a mood.    

Most importantly, I realize that events belong to the people who host them-not me.  I have certain skills with flowers.  I have certain skills with designing spaces, working with color, creating visual interest, and proportion.  But an event is never about my skills.  It is about people who congregate and interact over a special celebration. 

I think the toughest job any floral or event designer faces is figuring out how to work in such a way that the people involved, and that cause for celebration, shine.

My client thought long and hard about the theme for her Passover table.  Every detail is thoughtful.  Every detail contributes to the whole.  Each object makes reference to the history, the holiday, and the theme she took so long to create.

Best of all, there is so much of her here.  The objects she treasures are the foundation of her expression.  There is a very clear story being told here-about both Barbra and Rashi’s vineyard. 

I like the opportunity to participate in events that tell a story.  A real story.  Jenny went just before the tea to take these photographs-I was determined that we would do this. 

Our photographs are by no means professional.  But a visual story about the relationship over which this table was forged is a story the both of us want to remember.