Some things in life never get the credit they deserve. Take for instance the lovely genus Pulsatilla. How many of you even know it? How many of you who do know it have it? How many of you who have it value it for all it’s worth? Like I do?
The entire genus, consisting of about 40 plants, appears throughout the northern hemisphere. I grow a purple one, a blue one, and two red ones. No matter what the color, I’m uncertain of the exact species of any of them. I grew them all from seed. Both my record system and my memory aren’t worth a damn. Therefore, I call all of them by the one common name I know–Pasque flower. Seems to indicate they will bloom on Easter, and, you know what, they always do. No matter the color. No matter the specific epithet. No matter what the weather and no matter where in the spring Easter falls.
And I love them. They, like the Judd viburnums, mark the true beginning of spring and are an absolute indicator that I somehow survived another winter. And today, Easter 23, they’re in bloom. And I’m happy. And I want to share them with you.
And tell the world’s only Pulsatilla joke, which I will officially retire from my talks now that I’ve posted it on the internet. I will “retire” it in the same way the Who “retired” from touring in 1985. And ’87. And…
So here it goes: Pulsatilla starts out as your cherubic, innocent, cuddly and fuzzy-faced little infant child. And all you want to do is to hold it close, hug it, smell it, and rub it on your face.
But, way too soon, it becomes your tall, skinny teenager with weird hair.
Ba-da-bump. Pause for laughter. “Thanks everyone! It’s been great. I gotta go now. See you next time. Happy Easter!”
well, a comedian you are not, at least when it comes to Pulsatilla. But, I agree that this is a harbinger of spring in my garden, at least it was in my last garden. Sadly, it has become hard to find from our growers in the northwest. In fact, just today i popped into the nursery and interrogated our perennial buyer as to why we had none on the tables. “Nobody has it available” she retorted. I gave her my stern glare of disapproval and told her she should have pre-booked it last fall. Things sort of went down hill from there. We used to have it in the nursery in a small rockery where it loved the gritty soil and customers would ask about it. At some time in the far past that rockery got removed along with all the plants and it probably got donated to some worthy cause thinking that we could easily replace it in the future. Maybe you could mail me a small division of one of yours.
I have loved pulsatilla since , as a child, I saw it growing wild on my grandparents’ Wisconsin farm.I believe one of its common names is Prairie Smoke (for those diaphanous seed heads).
Nice photos, even if the joke is corny
LOL! I’ve got many more that are cornier!
Lovely, Happy Easter to you and I thought your joke was funny!
Thanks! I did too.
Love the flower.
And the joke!
Another beautiful plant we can’t do well here.
For every amazing tropical that is hardy here in Norfolk, we have to give up some garden staples you might not imagine gardening without. Lilacs, rhododendron, potentilla, old fashioned hollyhocks, lady’s mantle. so many plants that stop at zone 7.
Not prairie smoke – that’s a different plant. But….the joys of common names….it LOOKS like a prairie smoke. It can easily be called that common name….
Somehow, I doubt if it would be happy here in North Texas. Warm-ish winters, except for the week or two of bitter cold and/or ice. Mild to hot springs that last maybe a week or two, or three if we’re lucky, and months and months of hot, hot humid, steamy summers, and that’s just at night. Gunky clay soil would probably not be to their liking, either.
So, I’ll just enjoy looking at your lovely pictures. Thanks for sharing, and a belated happy Easter!