It’s a lucky visitor whose gaze turns east along the path between the mansion and the Enclosed Garden, instead of west across the blooming North Garden and Great Lawn to Narragansett Bay. The western view is a compelling one to be sure and even I am caught up short by it every time I walk by. But right now to the east there’s an even more spectacular view. If slightly more subtle. The Davidia involucrata, otherwise known as the dove tree, handkerchief tree, ghost tree or laundry tree (I would never call it that) is in full bloom.

Blithewold’s dove tree was given to Marjorie Lyon in 1973 for her 90th birthday (along with several other trees including the Stewartia pseudocamellia that died in this past winter’s blizzard). It was a particularly interesting gift because it was unlikely that she’d live long enough to see its flowers. And in fact, she didn’t. (They usually take about 10 years to come into bloom.) But like so many of the trees at Blithewold, it was planted and cherished for its promise to provide future generations with an eyeful of gorgeousness. So we are the recipients of that gift — a generous one this year because it seems more loaded with flowers than ever.

I always try to remember to walk over to the tree in late-April/May because a few days before it becomes showy enough to catch anyone’s eyes from the path, the flowers emerge along the branches like teeny-tiny burgundy-black buttons flanked by teeny-tiny green bracts. They’re totally adorable. And almost fast enough to watch, the bracts grow into dangling tissues that remind me of homemade Halloween ghosts, and the flowers expand into fuzzy greyish spheres. Right now it’s as beautiful — and strange — from a distance as it is close-up.

Although the dove tree would seem to deserve a more front-and-center placement, it was tucked back against a windbreak of rhododendron and chamaecyparis for protection because with a zone rating of 6-8, it’s considered marginally hardy here (we’re Zone 6b/7). It hails from central China and wants full sun to partial shade and the ideal garden combination of organically rich, moist, well-drained soil. It will stay in the 20-40′ range and has a pyramidal habit. So pretty.

Do you have a dove tree or have you seen one in bloom? What did you think of it?

I think we outdid ourselves. In the last couple of weeks Gail, Betsy, the volunteers, and I planted about 700 perennials and a handful of shrubs. Going into our planning season this past winter, Gail and I both thought that we wouldn’t place big perennial orders this year. Then the catalogs arrived and we couldn’t help ourselves. Our excuse is that we want these gardens to be wow-full and inspire visitors. We want to stay au courant, plant what the kids are planting now, try new things to see if they really are as great as their write-ups, and retry old favorites that might deserve a comeback. So we didn’t hold back when we went to nurseries and plant sales either.

I’m pretty excited to finally try bowman’s root (Gillenia trifoliata a.k.a Porteranthus), a native described as “tough” with delicate gaura-like flowers and red fall foliage. We placed it both in the pollinator garden and the Rock Garden where seriously tough conditions will give it the true test. I can’t wait to see if the ‘Blonde Ambition’ blue grama grass (Bouteloua gracilis) is the stunner I think it might be, and I have wanted blackberry lily (Belamcanda chinensis) for ages but had trouble finding it. Here’s hoping it takes off like this regular old passalong plant is supposed to.

Our new “foliage bed” was too much fun to shop for. Of course we have to try new heucheras and were assured that ‘Citronelle’ (both Gail and I are suckers for chartreuse foliage), ‘Encore’, and ‘Dark Secret’ are as awesome as they come. We finally have the perfect spot to try shredded umbrella plant (Syneilesis aconitifolia) but we still haven’t found the exactly right place for sycamore-leaf false nettle (Boehmeria platanifolia), which by all accounts is one of the coolest, hippest foliage plants for partial shade. (Why didn’t we have that yet? It doesn’t matter. We have it now. ) Catchfly (Silene latifolia ‘Rollie’s Favorite’) is already earning its keep in the Rock Garden. Even if it doesn’t survive (and why wouldn’t it? — drought maybe?) I’d use it like an annual especially if it continues to bloom all season like the description says it will (after a shearing).

Even though it seemed last year like our gardens were getting saturated perennial-wise, somehow, miraculously, there’s always room for newbies in May. (It’s not so miraculous actually. Removing giant patches of place-holding rudbeckia and Shasta daisy is my favorite way to open up new plant slots, especially at home.)

Have you been planting perennials too? Any you’re especially excited about?

Even though the daffodils are still blooming their little hearts out I can’t help looking forward to the next thing(s) following hot on their heels. The tulips and cherry trees are just getting going, winter hazel and crabapples are on the way. I’m pretty sure that the spring display is just going to keep getting more and more spectacular. More colorful, anyway. It may be too early to tell, but at least right now my favorite tulips are a color reverse pair in the Cutting Garden — ‘Gavota’, which is red with yellow edges and its opposite, ‘Boston’. And I’m really enjoying ‘Silverstream’ in the Rose Garden. Even though we planted them in the herb garden last year (and again this year) I had forgotten that they start out a paintbox mix of flecked yellows, pinks and reds. So pretty.

And now that we have cut back, tidied, and weeded (mostly) the gardens, divided and redistributed perennials and moved some shrubs like playing musical plants, we’re ready for what comes next. Planting new things! It’s a thrill to finally see the available real estate and begin to envision where the gardens will take us this year that I can hardly wait. But our perennial plant orders haven’t arrived yet and local nurseries haven’t quite stocked up or opened doors yet.

So in the meantime we’re using our gotta-plant energy to catch up on greenhouse work and think about moving out. In fact, the sweet peas went outside last week, ready for planting in the next couple of days, weather permitting. Next out will be all of the nearly-hardy perennials and shrubs like rosemary, phormium (some are out already and didn’t mind the touch of frost the other night), farfugium, camellias, and various and sundry salvias like S. guaranitica and S. leucantha. We’re really on a roll now even though we have to hold our horses a little.

What’s next in your garden? Are you ready to plant new things yet or are you still tidying, weeding, dividing and redistributing (like I am at home)?

Whether or not you got your taxes in on time, spring is sending out huge returns right this minute. As a gardener I have paid close enough attention to spring that I really shouldn’t ever be surprised by it but yet again, I’m feeling amazed at how quickly it’s happening. Tree buds that were still tightly closed (if swollen) last week when I checked them must have opened over the weekend. Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) that was tucked under the leaves in the bosquet last week is poking up today like a forest of tiny umbrellas. Ferns that were still tightly knobbed are beginning to lengthen into fiddleheads. Grape hyacinth are out in force; trout lily are displaying their peeled banana blooms; and a close-up look at a red-tinted horizon reveals the most delicate garnet flowers on the red maples (Acer rubrum).

And the daffodils. I knew it was coming (and we predicted that this would be the week) but they’re totally peaking now. I am tempted to say that it doesn’t get any better than this but of course it does. By the day.

So if you’re on vacation with your kids this week, I sure hope you return to Blithewold for Daffodil Days or at least get outside to reap spring’s awesome reward. (Given the weather forecast for the next few days — no hot weather in sight yet — it looks like the daffs will be in peak right through and into next week. And by then there should be a few more tulips too!)

Is spring at its peak in your garden too? For a look at spring’s return all over the country and the world, head over to May Dreams Gardens for April Garden Bloggers Bloom Day.

These last two days have been so spectacular — soft, sunny, and warm — that I can’t stand the thought of anyone being stuck indoors. I know I’m lucky (in a previous life I worked in a windowless office) and I wish you all could be out here with us. (If it’s any consolation, I’m inside now to work on this. But the door next to my desk is wide open and the greenhouse is behind me. I’m totally lucky.)

I had to include the above daffodil pictures in this post — they’re on their way towards peak — but before they blare every trumpet I feel justified in focusing on the spring tinies. Ephemerals like the trout lily (Erythronium americanum) that has speckled the Bosquet and every garden and is just beginning to bloom; tiny primroses (Primula veris vulgaris), and European ginger (Asarum europaeum) blooming almost invisibly in the Rock Garden; weird octopus’ garden foliage and buds of Muscari armeniacum ‘Valerie Finnis’; and the innocent-looking flowers and newly emerged foliage of butterbur (Petasites japonicus). There’s no indication that in 2 or 3 weeks time the butterbur’s leaves will be as big as tea tables…

(Click on any picture for a showier show and/or mouse over for captions.)

Speaking of innocent-looking, we started taking out, dividing, and moving around perennials that have grown close together in the Idea Garden. Everything is still so tiny that it’s hard to believe they’ll ever be shoulder height (some of them) and a lot of them look exactly alike (to me) at this stage. It was like a memory test to remember what’s what. And in fact it was hard enough for me to distinguish between the mountain mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum) — which we want to replace with a showier P. muticum — and the Monarda fistulosa ‘Claire Grace’, planted side by side that I had to resort to the sniff test. Mountain mint definitely smells mintier… And we had to do some fancy footwork to avoid stepping on all of the perennials still so tucked in that we can barely even see them. But this is the perfect time to start to play musical perennials. We can even get away with stashing The Unplanted in bags in the shade for a week or two (I don’t mind making daylilies and rudbeckia wait even longer) until we figure out where they’ll live next.

Please tell me you were able to get into your garden to dig into (or just enjoy) spring’s tinies. (I’ll feel better if you have.)