Vermont is a Fairy Land -

Trigger warning: this post contains artist biographies and a butt-ton of flowers. If either of these things bore you to death, you may want to move on

As the days get warmer, I have been paying close attention to the flowers that seem to appear over night. From the wild flowers to the garden flowers, each day brings a new splash of color.

The first to appear was the fiddleheads. This curly little plant marks the beginning of spring. And it seems to be a sight straight out of fairy lore. I can imagine the little fairies, hiding in their warm winter homes, playing their fiddles and guiding the first signs of life back into the world. The appearance of which brought me memories of my beloved Ireland. Fiddleheads are actually the first stages of ferns. And one particular fern, the ostrich fern, is apparently quite the delicacy in it’s fiddlehead form. I did not try one yet, as I wasn’t entirely sure which was an ostrich fern and which were the apparently poisonous variety, but I did buy a little book of fiddlehead recipes for future use.

As the weeks went on, more and more flowers appeared in my yard. wildflowers peek out in the forest areas and provide little pockets of vibrance. On particularly warm days, the sweet perfume of floral fragrances fill the house. Daffadills, Rhodedendrons, Irises, Daylilies, Rhubarb, lilacs pop up one by one, so much excitement for someone who loves flowers but has very limited knowledge in them.

This sent me down a rabbit hole so deep, I may never find my way out. Because, you see, while trying to figure out more about these flowers, I discovered someone. That someone is Beatrix Potter. Yeah, sure I knew who she was, I had some basic knowledge of her, read all her books and know the characters, but I didn’t actually KNOW her on a more personal level.

And this is what I found out.

In a nutshell.

Beatrix Potter (BP for short) struggled to find her way in life. As an unmarried woman of an “advanced” age (her 30s), she was considered doomed to spinsterhood. Despite the fact that she simply wasn’t ready to settle. When she began writing, her work was refused many times over for the only reason being she was a woman. Eventually, at 36, a publishing company family picked it up more as a way to keep their little brother out of their hair, not believing it would go anywhere. As we all know, Peter rabbit took off like crazy and BP became the woman we know today.

With her money, she purchased her own home on hundreds of acres of land, started a farm, and became an avid gardener, surrounding herself with lovely flowers to inspire her art and stories throughout the rest of her days. She has become known not just for her art and writing, but also her thorough scientific knowledge of horticulture.

Oh yeah, and she eventually married a rich editor when she was 38, so yeah, beating stereotypes left and right.

After reading this, I decided it was my destiny to take a page from BP’s book and surround my farm with gorgeous flowers and color year round to inspire me and fill my sketchbooks with.

The only thing was, I know nothing about gardening flowers.

My knowledge of flowers is identifying your basic flowershop finds (tulip, rose, carnation, daffodil, lily,) and even then only when in bloom, and a kindergarten level knowledge of plant care (put seed in ground, give sun and water, and BOOM you have a magical fairy garden).

My grandparents were/are amazing flower gardeners. A yard lush and beautiful with flowers that we would run around as children. And although my grandpa is gone now and my grandma is past gardening age, she still has a love and vast knowledge of flowers. This gene, however, was not passed down to me. Or at least, I have never made it a priority enough to learn. Until now.

And with the virulent intensity, bordering on obsession (as I do), I armed myself with several books on flowers and landscaping in the northeast and became a member of a vermont gardening group, determined to create a garden that would make my grandparents proud and add a touch of magic to my creative life.

The first question I posted to my new best Vermont friends at the garden group was a forest of bamboo-type plant that seemed to appear overnight, taking over an entire portion of my land. I posted a picture and within about 10 minutes, I had over 20 comments on my posts. Excited to learn my first plant find, I began reading, hoping for praises of the amazing oriental like plant I discovered on my property.

Except what I got was comments like “Oh you poor thing.” and “what a nightmare.” and “TORCH IT!” Because what I actually had was a bamboo relative known as knotweed. A highly invasive weed that has such a strong root system, not only is it known to take out entire foundations, it takes over 5 years of aggressive care to get rid of. Luckily, it’s not near the house or barn, but I have my work cut out for my there.

My next task was to go through each of the plants appearing in my flower garden, identify them, learn about them, and, if needed, transfer them to somewhere they will not only grow best, but work best visually with neighboring plants.

I gathered several plant identification apps, laid a blanket down, and one by one figured out each bloom and wether it should be kept or gotten rid of. And for the past week and a half, I’ve been identifying them mostly poorly. The problem is, identification apps aren’t as good at their job as I want them to be. Many times, each one would give me a different answer to what a plant was. especially if it wasn’t in bloom yet. So some things needed to be passed over until it bloomed. But I was able to get a handle on quite a few. I found several lilies, lily of the valley, hostas, primrose, peonies, wild roses, “tame” roses, honeysuckle, and so much more. Everything going smoothly for the most part.

That is until I got to the forsythia.

Now, this is a new one for me. I had seen them before but didn’t know its name or how to take care of it. And what I had was about 14+ feet of forsythia gone wild, spring break style. I’d say there were around 6 well defined bushes that had grown like mad, rooting themselves in several places, creating a ginormous mass of bush, covering many day lilies that were screaming for sun under their floral tent. This one I knew needed a haircut and needed one bad.

Now, from what I have learned, if shrubs don’t get trimmed in a certain way, at a certain time, they will fail to block the next year. I am somewhere in that window but not entirely sure if it’s too late or not. So I trimmed with caution. And when that didn’t please me, I got more aggressive. Which became a battle of, clipping a little more here and then a little more there, until my forsythias began to look a little like Calvin did when I attempted to pandemic cut his hair (of which we do not speak of).

At one bush, I grabbed a handful of limbs and gave it a snip, only to reveal a pile of bright blue stones. Only they weren’t stones at all. It was a bird’s nest, nestled in my forsythia, with 4 bright blue eggs inside.

At that point, I realized the two birds hanging around me this whole time, cheering me on, were actually chewing me out because I was trespassing in their backyard. I decided to leave that bush be for now but then started worrying that I exposed the poor nest to the predators of the world. So I did my best to cover it back up.

Stay tuned for more on that. If you hear nothing, it’s because they became a critter snack and I am hanging my head in shame.

Now, my quest for amazing gardens will probably take me a couple, if not several years. But luckily I have a goos start with the plants that previous owners having lovingly built up. My imagination sees so much possibility working with these flowers. I hope I can do it all justice.

I actually have several more stories to tell. Much has been happening but I’ve been elbow deep in plants and bug bites so I haven’t gotten around to telling them all. But expect many stories in the next week or so.

In the meantime, enjoy this collection of flower photos I have taken around my yard.