COLUMBINE
Whomever lived here in this house before me, loved pale pink. And they have done a magnificent job of matching the pale pinks that come through in the Spring. The cherry. The azalea. The columbine. I have come to love them perhaps just through the appreciation for the skill of whomever chose this combination. My guess is that it was the 50’s so they are old varieties.
But the columbine. Re-seeding itself everywhere. Delicate and gently aggressive all at once. ‘
But the columbine. Is not the one the hummingbirds love. I have been wondering what they eat in Spring (drink??). I heard last week that they were migrating North. In New Jersey and making their way up to us.
But what will they eat?
The columbine. The native columbine. The one I have never planted because the orangey-red and yellow color palate is hard to match with the pinks and brash daffodil yellows of Spring.
I bought one (#gotmineatbutterflyeffectfarm). Planted it in by the front door where it could grow in my woodruff and clash with my tulips and offset my budding amsonia. More Pollack than Monet at this point.
My four year old and I were messing around in the garden. Digging something. Talking about popsicles. And two hummingbirds arrived, from NJ, and wove in and out between us and were frantically bumping in to each other as we froze. Starstruck.
It’s the columbine.
I need five more. Or ten more. Or 1000s more.
(it’s dark as write this from the front porch but I can hear the flurry of those hummingbird wings as we speak). - Westport MA, May 6th