Even at this late stage of my gardening game, there are still ample opportunities for surprises. It’s what keeps gardening so interesting for me. After three decades of my hands in the dirt, there is still so much more to learn and discover. Take this weeping larch, for instance. I thought for sure it had three seasons of beauty to offer (and that in itself is two seasons more than most plants) but it turns out it has a full four, as evidenced here.
In the spring, it is a gorgeous bright green, its leaves (deceptively shaped and structured like an evergreen tree) are soft and supple, and as its foliage fills out, the radial form bursts like verdant fire blossoms. By summer, it matures into a slightly deeper green with a tinge of silver to lend it coolness on the hottest days, and by fall it sets itself on fire in a rich amber glow that ripens to the edge of rust.
Somehow, in all this time, I’ve managed to miss the magic of a sticky snowfall that clings to its architectural form, clumping like Christmas ornaments on the weeping strands of bark and stem. I stumbled upon it the other day when taking pictures of the latest storm in the backyard.
I live for beauty that takes one by surprise – an unexpected delight at the end of winter.
