Rainbows and Irises

Iris was the Greek goddess of rainbows, connecting heaven and earth.  The tall, colourful flower which bears her name, seems to reach for the sky, its petals forming a rainbow like arch.  There are 325 species of Iris, and 50-thousand registered varieties, in almost every colour of the rainbow.  

Just steps from my home, there are irises in shades of blue, purple, yellow, brown, maroon, black and white.

  

Whether five feet tall, or an eight inch dwarf, all irises have six petals.  The three large outer petals are called falls, and the three inner, upright petals are called standards.  The Fleur-de-Lys, the symbol of France and of Quebec, is an iris.  The flower is depicted with two of the three falls on either side of a standard.

In the barbershop world of flowers, irises are bearded or unbearded.  The smaller Japanese and Siberian irises are unbearded.  To state the obvious, the beard is the soft hair at the centre of each of the three falls.  

Most irises have bright yellow or orange "Viking" beards.  Some though, have purple or black beards, like these...

Irises are gregarious plants.  Not only do they come back to visit year after year, they bring more Irises with them!  Irises will spread.  Every two to five years, gardeners divide the bulbs, and plant them in other parts of the garden.

Plant them in full sun, and they will thrive.  They need at least six to eight hours of full sun, or they won't bloom.  Like all rainbows, a little rain is the magic ingredient.  

The brightly coloured flower attracts brightly coloured hummingbirds.  The hummingbirds are attracted to the colour alone, since irises are not known for their nectar.  Ironically, the Greek goddess for whom the flower is named, is often depicted holding a pitcher of nectar.  

Irises may be named for a mythological figure, and emblazoned on flags and royal crests, they are also an old-fashioned, homespun flower.  Many people say the flower looks like the kind of frilly aprons our Great Grandmothers wore while preparing the Sunday dinner.

Iris, the Greek goddess, is not only associated with rainbows, she is always carrying a message from the Olympian gods. This week, with the flowers at their peak, send a rainbow bouquet of irises with a message of love!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Wisteria

Widow's Endorphins: Wisteria: In the language of flowers, wisteria means obsessive passion.  Once you've discovered their beauty, you too, may be obsessively pa...

Wisteria

In the language of flowers, wisteria means obsessive passion.  Once you've discovered their beauty, you too, may be obsessively passionate about wisterias!

Wisteria is a climbing tree, native to China, and Japan.  Wisterias grow tall, and wide. Many will grow to 10 metres (30 feet) high, and 20 metres (60 feet) wide.  The world's largest wisteria is an acre in size!  You'll find wisterias growing along the walls of houses, reaching over arched doorways. They're often found on trellises, or pergolas, sturdy enough to support their weight.

For all their strength and grandeur, wisterias appear softly feminine, ethereal and cloud-like.        

Although wisteria trees provide welcome shade, they love full sunlight.  They grow beautifully in a South facing garden, or in an open park, away from shade trees.  

Wisteria intertwines as it grows, forming braided wood tree trunks and branches.  Chinese wisteria grows counter clockwise, while Japanese wisteria grows clockwise.  

    

Another way to tell the difference between Chinese and Japanese wisteria, is to study the timing of the blooms and leaves. Japanese wisteria leaves appear on the tree before the blossoms.  With Chinese wisteria, the blossoms appear, then the leaves begin to grow later.

Cultivating wisteria takes patience...years of patience!  It can take twenty years to grow a wisteria tree from seed, and wait for it to bloom.  Or, you can take a cutting, and wait about four years before it blooms.  Most people buy a mature wisteria tree from a nursery, take it home, and plant it in a sunny spot.  Once wisteria takes hold, stand back, and watch it grow, and grow and grow!

In celebration of the awesome strength and ethereal beauty of wisteria, and women, I've created a line of dresses and draped kimonos, that will move gently with the Summer breeze. Lovely for a bridal kimono party, or a cruise.

All dresses and draped kimonos are available online in my Art of Where shop.

http://bit.do/drapedkimono

http:/bit.do/flare-dress

http://bit.do/AOWbodycon

Photographs Copyright of:   Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Lilacs...Ah, the Memories!

Widow's Endorphins: Lilacs...Ah, the Memories!: It's the fragrance that we remember.  The unforgettable scent of lilacs, carried on a warm breeze, evokes memories of happy childh...

Lilacs...Ah, the Memories!

It's the fragrance that we remember.  The unforgettable scent of lilacs, carried on a warm breeze, evokes memories of happy childhoods, and youthful romance.  Many people recall falling asleep, with the fragrance of lilacs wafting in through an open bedroom window.

You can't say, or even think the word, 'lilac' without mentally inhaling the sweet, fresh fragrance. Instantly recognizable, it is a difficult scent to describe:  sweet, heavy, fresh.  Part of the difficulty has to do with our brains. Olfactory processing takes place in the right side of the brain, while language is processed on the left side.  It is also a unique fragrance.  Peonies smell like roses. Lilacs smell like... lilacs. 

Although the fragrance is intoxicating, lilacs are not sexy.  They're sensual, romantic, and comforting. The memories they invoke are those of home, happiness, and the heart (after all, they have heart-shaped leaves).  Lilacs are a flower of whistful nostalgia, and bright eyed optimism.  They're sometimes referred to as, heavenly. 

Lilacs are an old-fashioned flower, loved by hipsters and great grandmothers.  Even in today's world of iphones and tablets, lilacs will grace a teacher's desk on the last few days of school.  A single stem in a simple vase, perched on a kitchen windowsill is charming.  An armful of lilac blooms, whether displayed in a vintage wicker bicycle basket, or an antique silver urn, has an air of gentility. 

Lilacs are a branch of the olive family.  While olives and olive oil will be found on many restaurant tables, lilacs are rarely found on a dining table.  Their fragrance fills a room, and will sometimes overpower, or contradict the food being served. Lilacs are ideally placed at the doorway, to greet arriving guests.

A thousand years ago, one of the biology teachers in my highschool, had an annual class project, which like it or not, involved the entire school.  As an end-of-year project, Mr. M. would place the lab tables side by side in a huge rectangle around the room.  He would cover the surface of each table with thick sheets of newspaper, and paper towels, and lay more newspaper on the entire floor.  He would then proceed to circle the room with the entire stomach of a cow!  All four compartments!

After only one day in a hot classroom, dead meat stinks!  The project would usually begin on a Monday.  The putrid stench emerging from the biology lab, creeping down the hall, and climbing the staircase, to fill the entire wing of the school within days.  Opening all the windows made little difference.  Mr. M's solution?  He would spray the classroom, and hallways with thick clouds of a popular, but cheap lilac scented room freshener.  It only made things worse!

It says much about the power of the pure, fresh scent of real lilacs, that even that nauseating memory is almost forgotten, when I think of lilacs.      

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.

Widow's Endorphins: Victoria Day In and Out of the Garden

Widow's Endorphins: Victoria Day In and Out of the Garden: My Victoria Day long weekend plans have had cold water poured on them!  Victoria Day is the unofficial start of Summer in Canada, and ...

Victoria Day In and Out of the Garden

My Victoria Day long weekend plans have had cold water poured on them!  Victoria Day is the unofficial start of Summer in Canada, and it is a Canadian rite of Summer, to work in the garden at least one day of the long weekend.  It's been pouring rain, and bitterly cold in Toronto.  So, I've turned to my blog, to share my virtual garden with you.

The Victoria Day weekend began on a high note.  Saturday morning was brilliantly sunny.  Cold, but sunny.  My Brazilian friend and I headed to a busy garden centre, looking for plants for my balcony garden.  After a long Winter of white and grey, and bare branches, the vibrant, intense colours of this year's annuals were hypnotic.

The first flowers to catch my eye were sunset coloured Passion Fruit Dahlias.   I love the blend of coral pink, and apricot colours!  Dahlias are sun worshippers, so these are going in South facing windowboxes, where they'll get at least six hours of direct sunlight a day. 

I have often planted fuchsia beneath taller dahlias or geraniums, giving the sun-sensitive fuchsias partial shade.  Look at these cascading fuchsia blossoms! 

The coral pink of the fuchsia petals are a close match for the coral pink dahlias...

We were strolling through the flower-filled parking lot, when a rack of vibrant and bright, Dark Get Mee Campanula caught my eye.  It is a wonderful compliment to the coral pink of the other flowers. Campanulas enjoy 3 to 6 hours of morning or late afternoon sun, in other words, they need to be tucked under other plants for shade.

And then it happened...my friend saw this gorgeous beauty hidden in a far bottom corner of a rack of fuchsia plants.  It took my breath away!
    

Fuchsias bloom from Summer, through Fall.  Over and over again.  While fuchsia blossoms are exquisite cascading from a hanging basket, Toronto's infamous windstorms have been known to toss hanging baskets off balconies, endangering anyone below.  In a high wind, these little ballerinas, look like Can-Can dancers at Cirque du Soleil.  They'll be potted in a sturdy, heavy container.

I also brought home this lovely, although nameless, dahlia.  In Saturday's sunshine, it looked more blue, than it did in Sunday's rain.  This one too, will be placed in full sun, where it will bloom perhaps as late as November.

For the first time, since moving to Toronto, one of my roses survived the Winter.  It doesn't have a tag, so I have no idea what it is.  I'll know for sure in about two or three weeks.  I think it was this one...

I am really curious about one of the roses which I brought home on Saturday.  It won't bloom for about two weeks.  The tag shows a dusky, almost purple floribunda rose.  Dramatically named Ebb Tide, it was another of my friend's great finds.  It has a spicy, clove fragrance similar to carnations.

A rose that I have photographed many times over the years, is the Chicago Peace Rose, and I brought another one home for this year's balcony.  As the blossoms age, the colours of the rose petals evolve from deep pink, to apricot, to the palest yellow, making it an ever-changing, always fascinating rose to photograph.

There are still more plants to add to the garden.  In addition to the geraniums or petunias, there are smaller flowers to fill in the window boxes and planters.  Mint, rosemary, and lavender also grow wonderfully on the balcony, and they combine beautifully with other container flowers.

Saturday and Sunday were too cold to get any planting done.  This morning, I woke up to sunshine! It's going to be a perfect day for planting!  The long range forecast:  the balcony will be ready within a week!

Happy Victoria Day!

Photographs Copyright of:  Ruth Adams, Widow's Endorphins Photographic Images Incorporated.