Barren strawberries

I took a couple of days off recently and actually spent some time in my garden. What a wonderful feeling! Nothing can compare with the freshness and surprises of a spring garden.

Not being one who keeps anything close to accurate records on my plants, I'm always poking around this time of year - scratching my head wondering what things are or doing the dance of joy when I recognize something I'd forgotten that I even had.

Waldsteinia ternata, or barren strawberry, was one of my pleasant surprises this season. I think I planted it two years ago. I know that I wasn't very impressed with its performance last year, but this year is a different story. (When will I ever stop being surprised by the whole "first year they sleep, second year they creep, and third year they leap' thing?) The bright yellow flowers are most welcome, and next to the tiny blue blossoms of their bedmate 'Brunnera,' they are knockouts. I actually much prefer them to the epimedium that I planted at the same time.

Waldsteinia grows just 6 inches high and will spread slowly by runners, but nothing like their edible cousins. I bought it especially because I was told that it would grow in dry shade and it seems to be living up to that reputation. In my experience, it is not evergreen here, though, like many of the catalogs say.

I was wrong...(Woohoo!)

I was ragging to a coworker a few days ago about the pathetic performance of my 'Multiplex' sanguinaria. I'd paid $60 a couple of years ago for three tiny bits of root. One never sent up any shoots. The other two produced a couple of quarter-sized white blooms for a few days last spring.

This year was a bit better. At least there were a few more flowers. And, yes, the flowers are very pretty. But with them poking up through the winter mulch on spindly, leafless stems, the overall effect was not what I expected for my (considerable) investment.

Well, today I am apologizing to this plant.

She is gorgeous!

I had no idea that the leaves would gradually, magically unfold.

'Multiplex' is so amazing, in fact, that the Royal Horticultural Society (the folks who produce the Chelsea Flower Show each year) actually named it as one of the top plants of the last 200 years!

If you decide to join me in acting like a fool soon parted with his money, just realize that the show doesn't last long. The flowers will fade after only a few days (depending on the weather) and even the foliage will go dormant by summer as the soil dries out.

Multiplex grows about 6 inches high and spreads slowly to form a colony about 12 inches wide. She likes humusy shade. (And lots of praise.)

A solitary pastime?

I was working on an upcoming project this morning, scanning pages of photo possibilities. I'd typed the word "gardeners" into the search engine and was routinely scanning the results in order to find those that I thought would best illustrate some text. After looking through several pages of pictures, I realized that even though I'd typed in the plural, all the photos that had popped up were of individuals engaged in some form of gardening.

That's when it dawned on me. I don't think that I've ever actually seen two people gardening together. Have you?

I know for me, solitude is one of the allures of the garden. But I never really stopped to consider if other gardeners felt the same way. At least not until now.

I know for a fact that gardeners can be a sociable lot. A quick web search for garden clubs can verify that. But what about when we actually garden?

If you, or someone you know, gardens with another person, I'd love to hear about it and how, or if, it changes the whole dynamic of the process.