It's been awhile since I've done a Green Thumb Sunday post, but this week, Echinacea 'Tiki Torch' burst into bloom and I just had to share. Orange just isn't my very favorite color in a flower, but 'Tiki Torch' clearly demonstrates that it depends on the flower. I really like this.
Clivia miniata
On the way home, I stopped at Meijer to see what they were offering in the way of spring flowers. They generally have something that's a little out of the ordinary and I wasn't disappointed. 
I was beginning to think my Hardy Cyclamen (Cyclamen hederifolium) wasn't going to show this autumn. I've got three different ones and I'd not seen a sign of any of them as of a few weeks ago. But then one day, I noticed the pale lavender blooms that look like pinwheels peeking through the leaves that had fallen from the Amelanchier that shades them.
It's difficult (for me, anyway) to accurately capture the details of the blooms because they're so pale in color. Photographing white flowers can present much the same challenge. Though I love the form of the blooms, it's the foliage that inspired me to plant them in the first place.
Hardy Cyclamen are spring and summer dormant, then pop up in the fall, as nights begin to cool down. The foliage will remain long after most perennials have died down, as they can survive temperatures below freezing. In fact, I have had the foliage persist through winter until spring, but mine are in a very protected location. They grow from corms, like good drainage, and are hardy to zone 5.
St. Francis Statue in Our Gazebo with Hydrangeas
It's that time of year again. Fall, to be sure, and I love nearly everything about it. The one thing I don't like is what follows, but I won't hold that against it. In the garden, the fall flowers are just beginning to put on their show, namely the mums, but what I always look forward to are the Toad Lilies (Tricyrtis sp.).
I have several varieties and I'm always on the lookout for more, but my absolute favorite is the one that is the first to bloom this year, 'Tojen.' What grabs my heart with this one is the shading. Going from pure white to deepest amethyst all in one petal, with a touch of gold for good measure, makes a tiny orchid-like bloom seem like pure perfection. No freckles like her cousins, not that there's anything wrong with freckles. I like those, too. But 'Tojen' does everything right when it comes to Toad Lilies.
Hibiscus 'Sun Showers'
'Parisian Market'
No doubt we all became familiar with this unique plant thanks to the classic movie, The Sound of Music. This was one of the very first movies I saw in a theater and I was so taken with it that I played my parents' soundtrack LP over and over and over again. I knew every song by heart and practiced my imitations of Maria, Liesl, Mother Superior, and little Gretl.
Sometimes you find them in the places where you'd least expect them. And when you do find them, you're not quite sure what you've found. But there's something strangely compelling about them and before you know it, it's on its way to a new home - yours.
This week, while waiting to get my Medrol Dosepak prescription filled, I had to kill some time walking around one of our local Meijer stores. Meijer has a rather nice garden center and many of my plants have been purchased there, so of course I had to take a look. It was raining, windy and cold out there, so it was a very quick look, but I'd already seen what they had to offer last Saturday in Defiance, after attending The Lilac Festival.
Inside, however, it was warm and toasty so I browsed the houseplants, which are pretty nice, too. They've always got some beautiful orchids, many of them unusual varieties that I've not seen elsewhere. I resisted those, but a tiny little thing caught my eye and I walked over to it, not even sure if what I was seeing was a real live plant.
See? Looks like a plant right off the set of The Jetsons, doesn't it? It's called Syngonanthus chrysanthus 'Mikado' and it's a Brazilian native. Fully grown at 10-12 inches tall, it likes loose, humusy soil and high humidity. The tag said not to let it dry out and put it in a bright window out of direct sunlight. It can live outside, as long as temperatures don't go below 50° or so.
The flowers in bud form are a metallic gold, as if they've been spray-painted. The bud at the right is about the size of the pearl on the head of a fancy straight pin, and is the largest one on my plant.
Mine doesn't have a fully-open flower on it yet, but this one is getting there:
Flowering year-round if they're happy, a fully-open flower resembles a strawflower in appearance and in texture and they last a relatively long time. Online research tells me they've been around for several years, especially in Europe. A Dutch company owns the exclusive rights for propagating this patented plant.
... but you may not have seen it in this stage of development. This is the first time I've looked this closely at it and I'm really glad I did. I love the spiral seams that will open one day soon. I don't think I've ever paid much attention to the veining in the leaves before either.
So...want to take a guess as to what it is? I doubt that I could have gotten it correct had I not been down on my knees doing something nearby and glanced over at it. I'll bet many of you will guess it quite easily though.
I love when the crocuses bloom, because that means if spring hasn't arrived yet, it won't be long. The brilliant golds and purples with winter's drab grays as a backdrop remind me of those black and white photos that have just one thing highlighted in color.
There are the snowdrops, too, which are often before the crocus and they charm me with their ruffled white petticoats colored and dotted with spring green. 
And who could resist the reticulated iris, drenched in the deepest purple, dotted white, and striped in gold? Their tubular petals hold treasures deep within, meant only for pollinating insects.
But nothing makes me happier than when the chionodoxas are in full bloom, carpeting the ground with glow-in-the-dark periwinkle stars. I don't think a single person has passed by my small patch of them on the south side of the house without uttering an "Ah-h-h."
Yesterday, as I passed by the home of a physician and his wife in a small town near us, I had to stop and turn around to capture a few photos of the chionodoxas in their yard. I've been past the house thousands of times, and have never noticed these before. They've had to have been there for decades, due to the size and density of them, but I was probably intent on getting somewhere and failed to look that way and notice their beauty.
Fruit of native Cedar tree
It was nicely shaped and I was happy when he came walking back to the house with it. We planted it in the back yard and all was well. Then it started sprouting these orange growths that looked other-worldly. I didn't know if it was caused by an insect or if it was a disease, or just what, but they increased in number and size as time went on. The tree didn't seem to be suffering any, but I was pretty sure it wasn't normal or desirable for it to be sporting such things.
While it's not known for sure what thorny plant was used for the crown of thorns Jesus wore as he died on the cross, it's believed to be Euphorbia milii. The plant is native to Madagascar, but that's not to say it wasn't in Israel also.
It certainly has plenty of thorns along its branches, unlike other Euphorbias we're familiar with (Snow on the Mountain, for example). However, the blooms give away its heritage, as they are typical of the genus. It comes in several colors, including red, pink, yellow, and white.
I've found this Euphorbia to be quite easily grown as a potted house plant that I move outside for the summer. It likes its soil to be well-draining and on the dry side. It's happiest in full sun, where the color of its bloom is deeper than if it's in less lighted areas. While it's a year-round bloomer, it has less blooms in the clusters in the winter - even in a south window - than when it's in full sun outside in the summer.
"Bejeweled"
