I can’t remember the names of my flowers. It’s embarrassing.
I know a fern when I see one. And a rose. And an iris. And a few months ago I finally mastered that polysyllabic tongue-twister, alstromeria.
But you’ve got me at Armeria. And Aqueligia. And all the other plants that are showing up at the local plant nursery these days with fancy, melodic — forgettable — Latinate names.
A Fuzzy Plant. A Rash
I like my newly arrived flowers — except whichever one it was who caused the rash on the back of my hand last week. (Kangaroo Paw, you adorable, stubby, fuzzy thing — I’m looking at you)
But usually if you like someone or something, you don’t keep forgetting its name. I like the people in my life, for example. And I mostly I remember their names. But not my beloved flowers, which were planted in May. Not the Campanula. Not the Convovlluou mauritanicus. Not the geranium biokovo.
So, What Do I Do When I Can’t Remember the Names of My Flowers?
I do what any sensible 21st-century gardener would do — I get out my cell phone and aim my plant ID app at it.
That delicate pink flower with the pointy petals. Are you an Armeria? An Aquilegia? A Campanula? An Echinacea?
I should know. I knew it last month when I watched the gardener put you in the ground.
But now I have to use my trusty plant ID app to remember your name . . .
Ah, yes. Of course. You’re an Aquilegia. I knew that. So glad you like it here in my garden.
Just because I forgot your name (again) doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re wonderful.
Take a Tour of the Finished Side and Backyard Gardens — 2 1/2 Minutes
My new backyard and side yard gardens have been under construction for the past year. And now the job is finished at last: the retaining walls are in. The stairways and landings are in. The railings — yards and yards of them — are there for the grabbing. And the new plants are settling happily in.
Hello, Barbara — You always achieve what you set your mind to. This landscaping/ hardscaping is a beautiful melding of a gentle human footprint within a magnificent canyon and forest. So wonderful to hear your warm and musical voice. Sharon, Your Page to Stage Buddy
So nice to hear *your* voice!
Keep us updated as the garden matures. It has such a good beginning. What a spectacular setting.
I’m just back from a week away — at a writers conference. I can’t wait to get out there to see what these critters have done in my absence.
I love it and I love that you finished it. I don’t have yellow alstroemeria – I do like yours. I also really like your railings. Super great job Barbara. EB
I tried to get alstromeria that were a single, rich color. So I have an orange, a purple, a white, a yellow and a couple of the type with several mixed colors. Come take a look.
Amazing job…well done! Bricks, stones, gravel, all the railings, hauling all
the dirt in and planting all the flowers, etc. You should be proud of the vision
it took to have it come out so beautiful.
Jon and I started with a side yard and backyard with a lot of deferred maintenance. Things were getting ready to slide down the hill. Jon was there for the first stages, and I decided to finish the project we envisioned.
The project took many discussions with a series of three different contractors and a landscape designer. There were less expensive, less ambitious options along the way — like keeping a narrow stairway that was intact, but not up to code. But I think it was worth getting the whole project done right.
Barbie . . . So many stairs to zip up and down. Your landscaping is beautiful. Loved hearing your voice.
Connie Arnos Dugger
Thanks, Connie. It’s great hearing from you.