Category Archives: Flowers

The cool hues of today’s earlier post have turned, and the purple of this butterfly bush has a heavy dose of red in it, lending it a hotter feel, and backed by the rich lemon shades of the cup plant flowers in the background. 

The strangeness of this summer is encapsulated in the odd circumstance that I’ve noticed of late: the butterflies and bees have been more drawn to the cup plants and lavender all around the butterfly bush, and for some reason have been avoiding this striking namesake. No idea why, other than 2021… 

Shades of indigo and lavender and violet are soothing to the eyes, especially when they pop up in the middle of a hot summer day. Those have been in short supply, but these purple-hued blooms, seen after one of the many rainy days we’ve had, are no less lovely without the sun. In fact, on overcast days their subtle beauty shines in a different, gentle manner. 

The pictures of delphiniums seen here were taken at the local garden center. I’ve never quite had the nerve to attempt growing them in my own garden – Lee Bailey warned me of their finicky ways, and difficult cultivation to produce a pretty plant that worked well in the landscape – and I always listen to Lee Bailey. 

Rather that tempt further failures, I have chosen to admire them from a distance – the safe vantage point of spectator versus participant. It’s more comfortable here – safer too. Less risk of loss. Less risk of heartbreak. But no less beautiful. 

The variety is long-forgotten, if it ever was known, and since this little rose is at my parents’ home it’s unlikely that anyone ever knew the name. That doesn’t negate or diminish its simple beauty or artful design. It’s a miniature rose, in a stunning shade that manages to be both electric and calm – not the easiest hat-trick to pull off, but leave it to a rose to make it happen so gorgeously. 

There’s a vintage, antique appeal to roses – their classic beauty and fragrance has been noted throughout history, and if you were lucky enough to grow up around a few gardens, a brush with a rose in June is a summer treat that often grows into a cherished memory. 

In different light I call it different names, but I love whatever shade in which it appears, as this is one of my favorite sections of the color wheel. Backed by shades of chartreuse, it makes for a stunning combination. I also love how it looks to be absolutely screaming for notice and adoration, or maybe just some water. Mere words do not do it justice, and perhaps that’s why it refuses to be called by any singular color. 

The common annual geranium (not a true geranium at all, so don’t be fooled by the name) makes for a floriferous and showy mound of scarlet – a fiery beacon in the garden or on the patio, where it will regale passers-by in nothing short of a shouting bout. All noise and hoopla and bright, flaring color – a flower after my own heart. 

I hung a couple of these from our canopy last year but wasn’t impressed enough to do it again this season. These sorts of annuals are everywhere, so I can get my fix when I visit my parents or ride around the neighborhood. Beauty’s where you find it. 

This little balloon flower is still going strong after a number of years, and when it appears it always brings me a jolt of joy because it’s so often forgotten. I also appreciate its stalwart resilience, and the way it keeps coming back even when it hasn’t been pampered. This year I’ve been given it some extra fertilizer to bolster and encourage such beauty. Sometimes it carries more than one bud – this is not one of those years, and so I’m working on it with a bit more love and tenderness. Beauty is worth it. 

We’ve all been lamenting this rainy and cool summer that nature has so cruelly doled out this year, but there are bonuses and unexpected delights that wouldn’t be present in a perfectly sunny summer season. Take, for instance, these Korean lilac blooms, which seem to have been tricked into coming out again after a few cool and rainy days and nights – the kind of weather they prefer in the late spring. 

They will usually throw out one or two small re-blooms, which are often lost amid the cacophony of high summer, but this time around there are several small bunches of blossoms, and they carry the same delicious scent that they have in spring – a happy reminder of the days when the season was just beginning. 

When faced with a light mist and cooler temperatures, these blooms last as long as they would in their typical blooming period. Once again, a silver lining in such an overcast season. Well, a lilac lining, as it were. 

Summer mornings were once characterized by the open blooms of the morning glory, back when the main concern of the day was whether or not I’d take lunch by the pool or on the patio. I’d love to have such a decision be the only worry of the afternoon, but alas there are more pressing concerns, and adulting must take place even in these dog days of summer. That doesn’t mean there can’t be morning glories, and I passed these while on a quick lunch during an office day. They usually close by early afternoon, but the day was overcast, as most of our days lately have been, so this one was still open, twirling its pin-wheel design like a little gay boy discovering a silk scarf for the first time.

This variety was the wild one we had growing rampant on the fence between our garage and the neighbor’s garage. They offer these blooms of pale lavender and white, in a smaller size than the traditional blue version that gets all the usual, well, glory. I’ve always preferred those blue varieties, so accustomed was I to the one seen here that anything else seemed rare and exotic. Life is so often about perspective. On their own, showcased and framed correctly, these are magnificent in their own right.

When last I was in Boston, I made a stop at the newly-renovated Newbury, which was formerly the Taj, where Andy and I had stayed for our wedding weekend. As such, it is a happy and sacred space for us, and whenever I’m in town I’ll make a stop to see what sort of flower bouquets the lobby and hallways have on display. This most recent visit found these hot pink and magenta orchids and calla lilies squealing with glee. 

Andy and I both love a magnolia tree, just not the clean-up and mess that follows a heavy blooming season, so we’ve never put one in. (We also don’t have the space, even for the smaller varieties.) And so we watch this show from a distance, grateful for when we happen upon tree in bloom, and even more grateful when we happen upon a tree after its bloom.)

After yesterday morning’s hot yellow sunflower post, here are a few photos to cool the site down. Purples are big in the garden right now, as if sensing our need for relief when the days get overheated. Sometimes a palette of cool hues works as well as air conditioning or a dip in the pool. Ideally, though, one operates in a conjunction of all of the above 

These blooms look fresh even during the hottest parts of the day. Delicate in appearance only, these hardy annuals take a flame-like licking and keep on ticking. 

Echoing the sunny post from this morning, these bright and cheerful flowers are emblematic of happy days spent in my childhood backyard. When we were last home for the 4th of July, I captured these shots of the gardens that my Mom has been cultivating and caring for over the last few years. In my younger years I battled for perennials over annuals, but she insisted on having the bright and floriferous show that only annuals provide. Over time, she’s come to appreciate the more subtle but just as impactful visage of a perennial border, with its focus on texture and the sometimes-fleeting nature of its blooms. 

In the case of some of these – such as the featured photo of the Sedum, that show can last for several weeks, or in the case of the stunning lily below, a few days. 

The garden is aflame at this time of the year, matching the sun’s intensity and heat, with eye-popping hues and stunning shades that light the darkest night. 

Summer’s sun resounds in its blooms.

The sunflower has marked many a post here on this 18-year-old website, and every time it makes for a sunny occasion. Two summers ago it was in the form of the song ‘Sunflower’ for a Speedo-clad summer recap. A bouquet of them formed this lead-off image for the Troy Farmer’s Market. Sunflowers formed the impetus to this memory of Provincetown and Montana. A fuller sunflower, well on the way to going to seed, drooped its summer-sleepy head as I reunited with Skip in the age of COVID. A magical store on a side-street in the South End of Boston featured bushels of smiling sunflowers for an enchanting summer scene. A shy sunflower peeked out from this summer recap of 2016, while my ass wasn’t quite as demure.