In New England we’re allowed call it summer whenever the switch has been flicked from sweater weather to sweaty weather (starting this past Wednesday). As a Rhode Islander, I can call it summer on Memorial Day weekend because lifeguards go back on duty. And as a gardener, I think it’s safe to declare it summer as soon as the scent of beach roses (Rosa rugosa – or as my grandmother called them, Rosie b’grosie) mingled with salty ocean breeze makes me swoon; when the irises start waving their flags; when the oxeye daisies open fresh as … well… daisies; and when we’ve finally moved the tomatoes out to harden off.

But of course I’m not quite ready to let go of spring and luckily I don’t have to. If there are still lilacs in bloom, it’s still spring. Syringa pubescens began blooming a good week after the everyday S. vulgaris. Its individual flowers are much smaller and pretty-in-pinker but the scent packs just as heavy a knock-out blow. Syringa meyeri ‘Palibin’ (right) is another late bloomer across the aisle from our pubescent lilac (at the entrance to the North Garden). I have to admit that until I looked at the tag today I thought was just another cultivar of the other. Palibin’s lilac blooms a titch later – if its blooms today are anything to go by (they’re still coming whereas the pubescent lilac’s are going by) – and a smidge bluer.

Red-veined enkianthus (Enkianthus campanulatus) is another that says spring to me – even though it smells as musty as a root cellar in winter. But any flower as delicately drawn as these, on any plant with as handsome a habit will be forgiven for being fragrance-challenged.

I freely associate Blue star (Amsonia tabernaemontana) with spring (late spring, that is). It’s pictured (below left) with Clematis recta ‘Purpurea’ and although my mind wants to lump all clematis into a summer category, I’ve been reminded this week that a few belong to spring.

Foggy mornings are a spring thing around here but these sweltering afternoons are so very summery. In any case, whether it’s spring or summer, the truth is, all gardeners are on the move. We’re racing against time to get the plants in the ground before the real heat of summer hits. But I was also reminded – and I’ll pass it along here – that it’s very important to slow down and watch your step – to try not to tread upon fledglings (a spring thing) or trip on bamboo shoots (summer thing).

Are you calling it summer or still enjoying spring?

My apologies for the inevitable ear-worm (if it’s any consolation, I’m stuck with it) but I found myself focused on yellow all day yesterday even though it isn’t my favorite color. As a matter of fact, most of the time it doesn’t even make my top five. But after spring’s opening trumpets of yellow have faded away, I’ve noticed yellow become much mellower and more precious for being less ubiquitous. So rather than seeing it like I usually do, as a difficult, potentially crazy-making color that doesn’t play well with others, I can see that it, like my favorite colors, has the potential to make a garden more beautiful.

It might have been the silvery shroud of fog that made even the acid yellow of euphorbia and Spirea ‘Golden Elf’ so delicious. Then again, any yellow that borders that closely on chartreuse, almost always hits me right…

And maybe I was starved for sun but I could just eat up Yellow Bird magnolia – the flowers look as sweet-tart as a lemon meringue. By contrast, the Father Hugo roses (Rosa hugonis) are covered in butter pats (and who doesn’t love butter?). I’m even enjoying the buttercups, shimmering hazily in the fog off in the tall-grass of the soon-to-be-mown-again Great Lawn. I think they and all of the other “lawn weeds” make a greensward expanse much more interesting.

But the pièce de résistance – the plant with the power to make me crazy about yellow - is the clump of our new yellow lady’s slipper orchids (Cypripedium pubescens parviflorum var. pubescens). Last fall one of our volunteers generously donated them. Let me reassure you: they were not poached from the woods – they are on the USDA protected plants list. Rather, a friend of hers has a cultivated clump in his garden that grew large enough to divide. We’re thrilled that these extra precious native wildflowers ($75 each at Garden in the Woods and worth every penny) survived the move. And aren’t they the loveliest shade of banana-peel?

How do you feel about yellow? Do your feelings for it waffle as mine do with the weather and the season?

We really needed the rain. Not only were the gardens dry – which is hard to believe since it’s been so not-sunny lately – but rain also gives us a chance to get to things that usually get short shrifted in May. Like tending to houseplants – or in our case the greenhouse plants. At home I all but forget to water my houseplants in spring let alone get them cleaned up, repotted and or fertilized before putting them outside for the season. And it shows. Here too: the greenhouse plants inevitably start to look a little peaky and neglected right before we want to put them on proud display outside.

So this week, while I tied myself to a desk to catch up on other stuff, Gail, Tara and a few of the volunteers grabbed the chance to give the greenhouse plants some necessary TLC. In between squalls, they even moved a few outside. Moving out during a cloudy week is perfect for giving those plants a chance to acclimate to the sky. Never be tempted, as I sometimes am, to put even sun-loving houseplants in full sun outside right away. Give them some days of shade first. (That said, the sun finally blazed right when I went out with my camera. – At least these plants have been under full greenhouse sun and won’t be so stunned.) If you haven’t already put out the plants that can take it on the cool side like phormium, camellia, gardenia, and rosemary, it’s perfectly safe for them now (it is here anyway.) And looking ahead at our forecast, it might be safe now to start moving the warmer-blooded out too. Most (tropical) houseplants prefer nights to be above 55° or even 6o° F. (I plan on kicking most mine out of the house starting this weekend, come what may. I’m pretty sure at this point we’ll all be happier outdoors.)

Have you had a chance to catch up on inside work too? Have you moved any house or greenhouse plants out yet?

Almost everybody I’ve talked to lately has complained that spring seems late this year. It is if you compare it to last year but that spring came two weeks early and headed full steam for summer. According to my calendars (and blog posts) from a few years prior, this spring is right on target if not a little ahead. I think what it is getting us all a little down in the dumps is the fact that we’ve had very few of those blissful, sunny, 70 degree blue-sky days and a whole lot of raw, windy and damp ones instead. And this week, forecast to be rainy day after rainy day, isn’t likely to lift our spirits any higher than the floor. The only thing for it is to wallow in the spring blues.

There’s no shortage of the color blue in summer’s gardens but to me blue is never more beautiful than in the spring when it positively glows against other colors – particularly the chartreuse and limey-shiny greens of fresh foliage. And isn’t it even more vibrant on a grey day? – Easier to photograph too. (Hover over for captions and click-on for larger view.)

Do you have the spring blues too? Which are your favorites?

Don’t forget to head over to May Dreams Gardens for a Garden Bloggers Bloom Day look at a few other colors blooming today (er – yesterday.)

Yesterday a visiting friend and fellow blogger asked me, “What’s your favorite thing blooming right now?” and with very little hesitation (it’s best to answer that sort of question as quickly as possible) I answered, “Crabapples.” Despite having an easy dozen other answers to that question on any given day, crabapples are on the front of my mind right now for a couple of reasons.

One is, I’ve been wanting to buy one for my own garden ever since I started paying a mortgage and am still trying to make up my mind about which one to get. At Blithewold we have a grove of three gorgeous Malus floribunda that are almost wider than they are tall and very dense. We also have a fairly recently planted orchard of Malus ‘Dolgo’. According to Dirr, these will be biggies (30-40′) with a more open branching structure. Our ‘Prairifire’ is still young (destined to be 15-20′ tall and wide) and has gorgeous deep raspberry buds and blooms. (Love that one…) But probably our most beautiful crabapple of all is the ancestral tree at the water’s edge. Nothing is more photogenic than that tree in full bloom.

Do you have a favorite crabapple?

The other reason crabapples are on my mind is because when they bloom is also when the Baltimore orioles come back (-the birds, that is. The baseball team won’t be at Fenway again until next week.) I love hearing their call – louder than the spring chorus of lawnmowers – and seeing their bright orange breasts flashing and clashing against all that pink. I’m not sure what they work on in the crabapples – they are nectar sippers – but they also eat insects. As a matter of fact, they are one of the best consumers around of our most destructive insects and caterpillars. Don’t bother spray because the orioles will be happy to eat all sorts of things like fall webworm, gypsy moth larvae, tent caterpillars, potato beetles, scale, and the sawfly larvae that make lace out of rose bushes.

Male orioles make the trip up from Central America, Mexico, etc a few days before the females in order to stake out their territory and they often come back to the same place every year. And the females construct the nest, which is a perfect illustration for the nightmarish lullaby we all grew up with. (Remember, “Rock-a-bye baby, in the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…”?) They suspend a woven pocket-like bassinet miles off the ground at the ends of branches. Gail spotted an old one blowing around high up in a Norway maple this winter – much too high up for a picture, alas. The birds go quiet after mating but keep your eyes peeled – they’ll be eating serviceberry and cherries as well as caterpillars. And keep your ears tuned: sometime in August up until they leave in September, the males sing again.

Did you happen to notice when the orioles came back too? (Here it was Friday the 6th. Click on the photo for a closer look.)