Sweet Peas

Sweet peas climb by tendrils that search for a support to cling to, almost anything will do.  When I was a child, my grandparents grew sweet peas to cover an aged greying fence that had once been part of a sun-bathed chicken run.  My childhood job was to pick the seed pods and faded blooms from the sweet peas and to regularly cut the flowers in order to encourage them to bloom.

And bloom they did, to a height of six to eight feet covering the fence with profuse colours, filling the yard with their sweet perfume.  Sweet peas bloom for long periods from late spring to early autumn, as long as they get watered heavily and frequently so their roots stay moist and cool.  The sweet peas in these photos are from my sister’s and brother-in-law’s gardens, still blooming near September’s end.

I always believed that one had to soak sweet pea seeds or nick them to open the hard seed coating, before planting.  In Lois Hole’s Bedding Plant Favourites published by Lone Pine Publishing in Edmonton Alberta, 1994, Lois says, “Instead of soaking seed, I simply plant into warm, moist soil and use an inoculant.”  She also fertilizes regularly to increase the size and number of flowers.

Sweet peas are an old fashioned annual climber bearing clouds of frilled flowers in varieties of red, purple, white, pink and blue.  Though they are a bit of work to plant and maintain, they are worth every speck of energy and care expended.  Just look at these flowers, vibrant, delicate, opulent!

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Sumac

Sumac

We have staghorn sumacs in our yard.  When we first moved here, they constantly suckered in from the neighbour’s property.  We cut them back and treated them like invasive weeds, hacking easily through their soft hairy stems with garden hand-shears.

After two years of fighting with them, and watching how they grew and looked in the neighbour’s yard, we became wiser.  We gained respect for these showy undemanding shrubs, with their ability to grow well in average soil on a sloping hillside.

Since much of our property fits that description, we decided to allow two staghorn sumacs to naturalize in this yard.  It is easy to keep them from suckering by mowing around them.  Four years later, we have small trees with “picturesque branching habits which resemble deer’s antlers.”  They have thick velvety plush stems, glossy green summer foliage and brilliant red-orange fall colour.

For me, the most striking feature is the velvety red fruit which appears at this time of year; upright cones that look and feel like lush, rich crimson cushions with tiny seeds.  Lois Hole says that the fruit “can be used to make a pink lemonade drink by bruising the fruit in water, straining and adding sugar.”  We haven’t tried that yet.

We do, however, enjoy the visual pleasure of the strikingly vivid scarlet fruit, and must do so each day, as it will soon disappear.  Once it fully ripens, flocks of grackles will descend and feast, stripping the fruit from the sumacs.

For us, living here has been about learning to give up control with this yard, and learning to make peace with what wants to grow and where it wants to grow.

We’ve made friends with the staghorn sumacs; have grown to love their striking colour-changes from dark greens to brilliant orange-red in the autumn, their wild and exotic-looking ruby fruit, and their sensual velvet touch.

Quotes and reference information are taken from Lois Hole’s Favourite Trees & Shrubs (Lone Pine Publishing, 1997, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada).

All photos are mine.