In the interest of sustainability
Like most people, I look forward to warm weather for a thousand reasons. One of the many anticipated spring pleasures is sun-dried laundry, with its uniquely clean scent. It’s absolutely un-replicated by any fragrance or homecare product with “linen” in the name. And the thought that I’m sparing a few more grams of coal or natural gas gives me a clean, pure feeling on the inside, too.
Another occasion of springtime bliss is the ever-changing, often fleeting parade of woodland wildflower blooms. Referrred to as “spring ephemerals,” they mostly live up to their reputation. These flowers emerge from the leaf litter in deciduous woodlands, astonish us with their delicacy and variety of form, then wilt and subside within the space of a week or two. The trees leaf out, the forest darkens and the display is done untill next year. Fortunately, there’s a bit of succession, with (for instance) bloodroot and hepatica appearing earlier than others.
Dutchman’s breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) is one of those spring ephemerals, and rarer than some. There is only one place in the Garden where it seems to thrive, and that’s in the Woodland Garden near the giant Medusa’s head sculpture. Greek mythology and sparkling clean pantaloons – a funny but charming combination. The plant is native to North American woodlands, in the same family as the various bleeding-hearts. It’s blooming now and will probably continue until mid-May.
Some neighborhoods frown on homely displays of washing on the line, but we find it perfectly acceptable here in the Woodland ravine!
Posted by Ann McCulloh


I’ve learned from experience that some plants will flop on me if not supported. It is disheartening to wake up in the morning after a stormy night to find the dahlias beaten down and broken. One year, my peonies came into bloom just before a rainstorm hit. At least I got to enjoy the blooms for a couple hours..jpg)
This week has been heavenly. Everywhere you look, fragrant clouds of magnolia and cherry blossom are arranged against the bluest sky, with carpets of porcelain-cupped daffodils underneath. The Garden has a dozen different varieties of magnolia. We would plant even more, but around here, a perfect magnolia spring only comes along once every four or five years, if that. The blossoms of the Yulan magnolia (Magnolia denudata) pictured here are too often spoiled by frost.
The idea of a giant man-eating flytrap like "Audrey" in the Little Shop of Horrors is a hilarious joke, but the truth is, some plants are scarier than they look. Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata) isn’t poisonous to humans, and it doesn’t have thorns, but it has the power to seriously disrupt ecosystems and even to destroy other species of plants and animals.