We just came back from Montreal where the fall hasn’t even started. As we landed, I saw that the prairies have turned into a quilt of brown patches. The elm trees that surround our garden are yellow and many have lost their leaves. It’s tempting to be sad at the thought of facing four to five months of winter, but that’s the most glorious part of Edmonton gardening: every blooming flower is cause enough to pop open a bottle of champagne.
This princess encompasses all stereotypes of femininity: innocence and experience – to use polite terms. She turns a soft bridal white in early spring and a hot Carmen crimson (as in the Bizet opera) in the fall. The funny thing is that this Canadian plum is sterile. Ours only bears two or three bitter plums each year. I don’t know how it ever survived in the wild.
Winter is approaching. The temperature overnight will be 4c and and my daughter said it snowed as she was driving home from the foothills. The only flower that’s still blooming in my garden is this hydrangea. The funny thing is I was planning to cut it down; it only had a few measly flowers last summer. It survived my pruning sheers and now, with most plants turning brown, this hydrangea is the queen of the neighbourhood. Total strangers have been walking up to it, tresspassing our driveway, perhaps checking if it’s plastic or spray painted. I am glad that it makes them smile at a time we all prepare for another long, white winter.