Todd and I spent the weekend in Maine at my mum's house, helping out with her gardens and eating too much homemade mac & cheese. We miss having our own garden these days, so we live vicariously by digging and mucking about in our parents' gardens.
After we finished up yesterday, the very last bit of light in the evening was so lovely that I had to take a few photos.
Below is part of the shade garden we planted for Mum two summers ago when my grandmother passed away. We wanted to make sure we could save some of Grammy's gardens, so we transplanted several of her perennials, including many hostas, in a shady corner of my mother's yard beside the glossy wild ginger that she already had growing there. We tucked in some variegated lamium and a few ferns that we stole from forgotten corners of Mum's yard. This year, the garden is starting to fill in nicely.
Mum has clouds of blue columbine in one of her gardens. We hung this greenish, creamy white surfinia petunia next to them to keep them company.
Whenever I garden at my mother's house, all my childhood summers spent there come rushing back. Her peonies are about to open, and I recall braving the ants just to crush my face into their lush scent. On the roadsides near her house the daisies, lupine, and buttercups are in full flower now. My sister and I used to pick armfuls of wildflowers in the field behind our yard to fill every vase, milk bottle, and jam jar we could find. This weekend I was content with just digging and weeding and mulching, but I think I will need to raid the vacant lot next to my own building tomorrow to bring back a handful or two of wild early-summer beauties.