Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Winter Flowering: Pink Dawn Viburnum



My three Pink Dawn Viburnums (Viburnum x bodnantense 'Pink Dawn') started to bud on December 24, 2013, but didn't get around to letting a flower peak through until mid-February. 


 
I figured I'd write a blog about them as soon as I had a range of photos, but what to write? I researched (Googled and went through all my books) trying to find something odd or interesting or, at least, oddly interesting, but no luck. 


 
  Early to flower, light fragrance, zones 5-7, 8 or 9--depending on the source--nice fall color, cross between V. farreri and V. grandiflorum, etc. Fine, all fine, but why post photos and info when the info was everywhere? This isn't what I wanted my blog to be.

As I was doing the dishes today, I realized what I could say (this sort of thing always seems to happen when I'm washing the dishes or in the shower. Something about water? Difficulty in holding a pen and dousing a notepad suggests inspiration?) And what I could say is the following:

I love to walk into mature gardens filled with open flowers. All those shapes and all that color is just one enormous, loud "Hi there!" All those "faces" are like friends of-the-moment, made at an especially fun party. The kind of effortless, immediate camaraderie that feels like an unexpected gift.
  
Yeah.  Well.  I love those moments, I do.  But there's something in me--as mostly a Macro photographer--that needs to plan, work ( and suffer ) for longer, perhaps deeper relationships.  I like to take time, get as close as possible to individual plants, destroy my knees, and photograph that conversation.

 So these photos, taken from early bud to last sagging flowers, reflect my relationship with my Pink Dawns over these last few months. 

The buds, with all their fuzzy bits and pink bits and green bits, intrigued and excited me at first.  It was hard to tell what would unfold where.  But the weeks went on and on and my impatience and frustration grew.  Would they never open?  Would they just dry up and just fall off in the cold?
 



Then one morning in February when I walked out into the garden for a bud-check, the fuzzy bits had peeled back and the pink bits had pushed out and open.  Just a few, but enough to give me hope (and a few shots).





However, not longer after, we got slammed by 18 inches of snow (see my March 3rd post for what that looked like).  I couldn't even locate the plants much less the fragile blooms.


But when the snow finally melted and the sun came back, the flowers quickly multiplied, with the wind rarely letting them hold still long enough for decent shots! 

  






When the little trumpet blooms were so much paler than the buds it all seemed pointless, until they multiplied and scented the air (if you stuck your nose right into them--easy enough to do when you're on your knees, inches from them). And lastly--at this point--all the buds opened to a sigh and a sag. All that effort. Surely it was worth it.
 
But don't get me wrong. In the right mood, I can definitely enjoy a big, crazy party with lots of superficial relationships!

14 comments:

  1. Please don't stick your nose into a blossom without checking for bees!

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    1. Ha! Thank you, Diane. I usually do check, but I've definitely gotten an angry surprise a few times. Luckily I have good reflexes.

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  2. I too love to photograph the progression. Having 'Pink Dawn' and 'Charles Lamont' the flowers begin to open in November and sporadically through the winter, and then in late January they begin to flower mor unitl late winter. Nice macro shots. (And I know how much patience it takes to get a decent macro shot when the wind is blowing. Always teaches me patience!)

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  3. Thank you so much, Debbie! I love garden breezes, except when I'm trying to get a shot. Sometimes I think the wind-gods are just toying with me.

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  4. Beautiful...stunning, pink, lovely, sigh...and I miss them so much. I'm pretty sure that they won't grow up here, but then again, I think I say that about all the lovely flowers that I left behind don't I?

    Jen

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    1. Thank you, Jen. Are you colder than zone 5? Viburnums seem pretty sturdy to me. And this one held the buds and even blossomed in sub-freezing temps and snow.

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  5. I enjoyed this post. The big bursting with color gardens you talk about for me are like a big hug, or like an Italian or Jewish family reunion with lots of food and kissing.

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  6. Thanks Jason. And that's a perfect comparison, but I'd add "noisy"!

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  7. I never thought they could live in my zone 5 garden but, looking at your picture of the frozen bud, I am not so sure anymore. They are really lovely. I suppose we would not pay them much attention if they bloomed in May but in the darkest winter....

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    1. Absolutely, Alain. The flowers are rather small, but they really "pop" on these grey days. I love them almost as much as I love my Witch Hazels.

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  8. Beautiful!! I have the same attitude towards Jason regarding gardens: they are big hugs and kisses from people we love. All those beautiful flowery faces are like friends we've waited so long to see. Love your photography! :o)

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    1. Thanks Tammy! Every day now I'm seeing another new face beginning to come into consciousness. It's dark and rainy but truly spring!

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  9. Hi Emily, scented winter flowering plants are particularly cheery and welcome at what is usually a dull and hostile time of year. Your description of a garden of flowers akin to friends and familiar faces is something that I can definitely relate to - very comforting.

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  10. Thank you, Sunil. This time of year is so busy for gardeners--lots of weeding (ugh), planting, pruning, fertilizing, etc., that we often do forget to stop and enjoy what we're working so hard to create--smelling the viburnum, as it were.

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