That's why they call it a big leaf maple

Big leaf: check. Maple: check. They got this one right.

Big leaf maples are generally considered to be junk trees, at least around here. Not good for much, with a talent for volunteering themselves to grow wherever the heck they want (which is usually where you would prefer they didn't).

But there are a few folks in our neighbourhood who tap their big leaf maples like our eastern cousins do sugar maples. The resulting syrup isn't the same - my one taste of it made me think of molasses, rather than maple syrup - but still, how cool is that? It might be a good project for the winter months when not much else is happening on the home front.

Progress

Kim and I have been hard at work transforming a barren weed-filled wasteland at the front of the house into something that better resembles a garden. This has involved a trip to the quarry for rocks and the delivery of a mountainous pile of dirt, plus lots and lots of shoveling, pick-axing, digging, wheelbarrowing, aching and grumbling. We're not done yet, but we've made enough progress I thought it was time for a report. The picture above is the "before" and here is the "after".

We've pretty much finished the area directly in front of the house, plus some of the area across the path. There's still quite a bit to do, but we're really happy with how it looks so far. The difference between our feeling ambivalent about the whole project and feeling like we were on the right track was realizing we needed ferns, lots and lots of ferns, to make these new beds make sense in the bigger forest context. We had already spent as much as we wanted to on new plants, so we went digging for ferns in the forest around the house - there are so many there that a few relocated ones wouldn't be missed. While we were at it, we dug up some Oregon grape, too. We're not sure how well the plants will adjust to being moved, but we thought it was worth a shot.

Kim's stone walls worked out beautifully. The blue coloured stone is the rock we got from the quarry. She also built some stacked stone walls using flat rocks from around the property, and the two types of walls look quite lovely together.

Today we went looking for some red-twigged dogwood, to supplement the two plants we already have. We went to four nurseries and couldn't find any, so we'll save those spots and look again in the fall. We did find three pots of Japanese painted fern, which neither of us had ever seen before. They are quite small now, but will get 2 feet tall, and their name is well deserved. The light wasn't the best for taking a photo - if it was better you would see how much like a watercolour these ferns are. Beautiful.

Dogwood

The Pacific dogwood is flowering, which is almost enough to make up for my lousy week. In our old neighbourhood on the Saanich Peninsula, the neighbourhood with the manicured lawns and sculpted perennial beds, these were carefully cultivated specimen trees. When they flowered we would drive past the few nearby and admire them and wish we could have one, too.

In our new neighbourhood they grow wild, and are everywhere. Nobody takes care of them, and they still put forth masses of creamy, buttery yellow flowers. It reminds me of when I first came from Toronto and was astounded that I could pick buckets of wild blackberries by the roadside for free. And they were even better than the plastic-packaged blackberries I bought at the grocery store, half-a-pint for $5.99. I was amazed by the bounty then, and I feel just as surrounded by dogwood riches today.

Apology

I just want you all to know I have been working very, very hard to develop my appreciation for what was formally known as The Ugly Plant and has now been identified as coltsfoot. Every time I pass the little grove of plants near the pond I stop to reflect on the wonderful variety that nature provides, and on how rewarding more subtle beauty can be. (Can you sense to effort I am going to here? It was the remark that came via email about the plant being like a botanical Rorschach test, saying more about the viewer than the attractiveness of the plant. Ouch!)

Today I decided that with the gradual opening of its flowers (we're talking a two week process here), the coltsfoot looks like very, very slowly exploding fireworks. How's that - any better?

Ugly plants

Spring is a gorgeous season. Everywhere you look there is something beautiful to see. As I wrote here, even spindly, punky volunteer trees can make you stop and appreciate their tender green buds.

But I'm having a little trouble with one or two of the plants in the garden. Like the one shown here. I don't know what it is, and based solely on where it grows (in the uncultivated forested area by the pond) I think it must be a native plant, rather than something that was put there. It appears early on - about the same time as the crocus. It has the thick green stem of a stalk of broccoli, and when it first appears the head is a cluster of tightly closed buds that eventually open into nondescript white flowers.

It's wrong, and I don't feel good about it, but I find this plant just plain ugly. Every day as I walk past it on the way to the greenhouse I try to find something to like about it, with no luck. I feel uncharitable and unkind and ungenerous, but when I leave it behind I don't like it any better than when I started.

It's not the only plant I feel an uncomfortable revulsion for - there's the winged euonymus, too. We have three or four of these shrubs at the front of the house, and before anyone protests, yes they do have spectacular fall colour. But have you looked at it when it's bare? It looks like an alien insect of some kind. Every branch, big and small, has three ridges that look like scales running the length of the branch. It makes me think of a five foot high locust. Ick. While I have worked really hard to find something to appreciate about the broccoli-like white flower, with the winged euonymus I don't even try.

As an antidote, here is a picture of the first of the fawn lilies to bloom. These are a native plant, and they are in many of the perennial beds here at Mucky Boots. The flowers start off looking like sweet drooping pigtails, and as the flower ages, each pigtail curls up so the whole thing looks like a British barrister's wig.



Added later: Thanks to expert detective work by Joyce and Yvonne, the "ugly plant" has been identified as a coltsfoot - either sweet coltsfoot or arrow-leaved coltsfoot, not the medicinal kind that grows in eastern Canada and Europe. Thank you everyone for your encouragement to find things to love about this plant!