The Tears of Nature – Rain and Flowers

Spring flowers laced with crystal tears…
the warmth of Summer nurturing her flora…

A lovely friend posted a couple of photos on Facebook this week
of her garden flowers in the rain, and as we’ve had a fair bit of rain this May
it made me think of my own flowers decorated with diamonds…

Aquilegia, Rose – Rhapsody in Blue, Geranium © Lisa Shambrook

It rains a lot in Wales, but that’s not a bad thing.
Taking photos of flowers in the rain offers a beautiful clarity and charm.

Aquilegia, Arum Lily, Belle Etoile – Philadelphus, Aquilegia © Lisa Shambrook

Water is the essence of life, watching thirsty plants flourish shows how vital it is to all of us.

Paeony, Geranium, Oriental Poppy, Tulip © Lisa Shambrook

Dewdrops, crystal, diamond rain, reflection, life, clarity,
nature’s mantle to beautify our lives…

Ladies Mantle, Rudbekia, Daffodil, Aquilegia © Lisa Shambrook

 What flowers have you enjoyed seeing laced with nature’s tears?

© Lisa Shambrook

Aquilegia’s Spring Dance – The Ballet of Columbine and Granny’s Bonnet

Columbine bob and dance with eagle claw spurs and fairy blush
As ballerina skirts and satin frills swathe spring’s sunlit meadows…

Aquilegia, commonly known as columbine, swathes the British countryside and cottage gardens at this time of the year. It is, I think, my most favourite spring flower. As its clusters of soft scalloped leaves develop, its stems shoot up and begin to bud, and I can’t wait for its flowers.

Frilled blues – © Lisa Shambrook

The name Aquilegia comes from the Latin word: eagle – aquila. The petal shape is often said to resemble an eagle’s claw. Columbine comes from the Latin word for dove, and is said to have come from the flower’s resemblance to five doves clustered together.  It’s also often called Granny’s Bonnet – for its nodding head and bonnet-like appearance.

© Lisa Shambrook

Many years ago when I started gardening, I had a packet of Thompson and Morgan seeds – a packet which probably came free from Amateur Gardening magazine – and I planted them and tended them in my bedroom! I watched tiny seedlings push through my trays of soil and I raised aquilegias. They have rewarded me every year since as I adore my – now slightly wild and meadow-like – garden swathed in aquilegias every spring!

© Lisa Shambrook

I love the way these flowers naturalise, the way the rain collects in their leaves like diamonds, and the way they self-seed and produce beautiful and variegated versions of their parent plants! The parents pushed up every year – I began with Blue Bonnet, deep purple spurs and petals with double white frills – and I was in awe as their later offspring threw out flowers with gorgeous green tints. I had single pink aquilegias with white frills and I collected seeds from dead heads out in the countryside to get dark purple single aquilegias. I bought a white, in bloom from a garden centre, and a pink spur-less double, and after that every variation have been crossbreeds from self-seeding.

© Lisa Shambrook

They love the shade, but do brilliantly in meadows and woodland, growing and spreading easily. If you don’t want your named varieties to crossbreed, then snip the heads off when they die and don’t let them go to seed. Otherwise, let them be promiscuous and see what they gift you!

© Lisa Shambrook

My favourites will always be the blues –
deep purples and blues with frills of green and white…

© Lisa Shambrook

Early evening fairy blush… Delicate ballerinas with their frills and fairy hues…

© Lisa Shambrook

Check out Beneath The Rainbow to discover my love of cottage garden and wildflowers, you’ll find them in Freya’s heaven – even aquilegias!

‘Freya opened her mind and allowed emotions and simple feelings of beauty flow through her. The feelings weren’t strong, or rich, just pure and simple, and Freya knew at once that all the flowers were vibrantly alive, not just with colour and scent, but with life of their own, each a simple, but divine entity.’
(Beneath the Rainbow – Lisa Shambrook)

In paperback or ebook on Amazon

The Loss of Laburnum…

Have you ever loved a tree, just watched it blossom and held your breath?

Laburnum © Lisa Shambrook

When we moved into our home twelve years ago, a scrappy tree stood half way up the garden. It was bare and about fifteen feet tall, with straggly twiggy branches, but beautiful glossy bark. I had no idea what it was until the following spring, when from behind the two rhododendrons, the most beautiful acid yellow blossoms suddenly bloomed, gorgeous golden chains hung from the branches, and brightened my garden.

I’d seen laburnums before, and never been very keen on them, but this one blew me away. It was beautiful, a lovely shape, and the colour accentuated the purple and lilac rhododendrons perfectly. I was sold.

© Lisa Shambrook

Laburnum Blossom © Lisa Shambrook

The children climbed it in autumn, hung rope from a branch in the summer to swing on, and we hung homemade insect houses from it too. I was never worried about the toxicity of the tree, well aware of its poisonous nature; all parts are poisonous if ingested. There are other toxic plants in my garden and I’ve always taught my children to respect nature and enjoy its beauty rather than chop down something beautiful due to fear.

There was never a more pleasing sight in my garden than the week the laburnum blossomed. I’d watch for it, watch the buds appear, and wait patiently for the day when a glance out of the window would take my breath away.

I adore trees, of all varieties, and we have a couple of apple trees (Discovery and Worcester), an Abies Koreana (with wonderful purple/black cones), a replanted Christmas tree, a couple of small ornamental firs and the laburnum. I can’t take credit for the laburnum. The previous owner chose it to accompany the rhododendrons, and it was an inspired choice. As it turns out the positioning would be its literal downfall, but inspired all the same.

I’d love to plant many trees, but a 30 x 90 foot garden can only take so many and the garden rises in a very steep slope.

The laburnum in its glory and uprooted © Lisa Shambrook

It was a very sad day, when three weeks ago I wandered into my daughters’ bedroom, stared out of the window and bit back tears. The high winds of the previous two days had uprooted the tree. Now the twenty-five foot tree lay across my garden, swathed in lemon yellow, and I could only stand and stare.

Uprooted laburnum © Lisa Shambrook

The loss of a tree might seem small, even unimportant, but it’s still a loss. I recall the hurricane of 1987, when I was fifteen and in Hove. Our local park lost two thirds of its trees and I remember that Seven Oaks lost six of its oaks. A loss of even one tree still hits me.

Trees inspire me and feature heavily in my writing, particularly in ‘Beneath the Old Oak’, where Meg finds solace beneath her tree. Losing my tree was tough. The horizon in my garden will never look the same. Next year, I’ll glance out of the window and something will be missing.

My garden has currently acquired the appearance of a meadow, due to hubby’s long work hours, my writing and bad back, so I don’t know if we’ll replace the laburnum. The whole garden is waiting for an overhaul…so we’ll just have to wait and see…

Fallen laburnum © Lisa Shambrook

Have you ever lost an important tree or plant, how did you overcome the loss?

10 Early Summer Flowers that Delight…

As summer sunshine warms us, nature’s early blooms enchant with colour and beauty…

What late spring/early summer flowers are nodding in your gardens?

Aquilegia © Lisa Shambrook

Aquilegia: often known as Granny’s Bonnet or Columbine, the common name ‘columbine’ comes from the Latin for ‘dove’, due to the resemblance of the inverted flower to five doves clustered together. This flower is one of my favourites. It surprises me every year with its array of colours and varieties, from single star like petals to full, double, frilled and hooded flowers. It blooms amid my meadow of grass with gorgeous nodding flowers from white, to pink, to red, and every shade of purple you could imagine. Each year some interbreed and arrive with the most delightful combinations.

Astrantia and garden snail © Lisa Shambrook

Astrantia: such a simple flower with pink blushed white petals infused with green, or strong ruby red. They are commonly known as masterwort. Grown in cottage gardens, they offer medicinal properties containing an essential oil which can help with digestive problems.

Tulips and diamonds © Lisa Shambrook

Tulips: the ultimate late spring flower, a companion to daffodils, but flowering on into early summer. I love tulips, and although there are so many varieties, parrot, frilled, single, double, tall, short – my preference lies with simple bold colours, usually reds, purples and white. I adore white tinged with green!

Ragged Robin © Lisa Shambrook

Ragged Robin: lychnis flos-cuculi, is a perennial that’s often found growing in wetter areas such as marshes, fens and wet meadows. Its ragged petals never fail to enchant me!

Solomon’s Seal © Lisa Shambrook

Solomon’s Seal: another cottage garden plant which produces beautiful arching stems and an arc of green tinged white dangling bells. They’re more associated with woodland shade, but look gorgeous strewn throughout the garden, a delight planted with dicentra, bleeding heart, in late spring.

Iris © Lisa Shambrook

Iris: one of my most favourite plants. The iris sibirica or flag iris flowers earlier than bearded irises, and my favourites are a mixture of white and purples. I have a stunning clump of water irises in my pond and they make me excited to wait for my bearded irises! Little iris reticulata, dwarf iris, flowers quite early, and the rule of thumb is the smaller the iris the earlier it flowers.

Clematis Montana © Lisa Shambrook

Clematis Montana: I love all clematis, but the montana, spreading across vast spaces and festooned with blooms is amazing. They also flower earlier than the large flowered varieties. Subtle in pink and white, when you see a cottage covered with clematis montana it’s a real sight to behold!

Arum Lily © Lisa Shambrook

Arum lily: zantedeschia, again, although I love calla lilies and stargazer lilies, and all varieties of lily, the arum with its pure simplicity is the one that bewitches me. A white spiral that opens into a delicate spathe just delights me. It dies away completely over the winter then has the most gorgeous green leaves that push through in spring and I can’t wait for it to flower!

Campanula Star of Bethlehem © Lisa Shambrook

Campanula: another cottage garden flower that I get impatient to see. A carpet of purple, a sea of blue, and I love how it grows in ever-expanding clumps and waterfalls across garden walls. I think it reminds me of my love of bluebells, which have just stopped flowering when the campanulas blossom. There are so many varieties and sizes, but the Star of Bethlehem is my garden favourite.

Ox-eye Daisy © Lisa Shambrook

Ox-eye Daisy: again, pure simplicity plays its part in my garden, and I love how it grows along the road-side, across fields and everywhere! Leucanthemum vulgare a large, yellow centred daisy, that enchants with ease.

© Lisa Shambrook – Iris – Aberglasney Gardens, Wales

These are my garden staples for early summer…how is your garden blossoming? 

What are your favourite flowers as the sun peeps through?