The “next weekend” is obviously long past but late spring has been interesting in my garden. The interesting but not very showy Arisaema, or Jack-in-the-pulpit, bloomed on schedule, but one of my daylilies (Happy Returns, described in catalogs as “the bloomingest daylily ever”) and a small hosta are far ahead of schedule. I can’t tell you a name for the hosta because the tag is gone, but it is an interesting spot of color at the end of the walk. Normally these two would not start blooming until summer has officially started. I have seen a few other daylilies around town this week that are probably Happy Returns as well. Maybe it is the “bloomingest” because it starts early and ends late, and keeps on going in between. The Fritillaria was not unexpected but the bulbs have finally gained enough momentum that this year there is a nice display.

Three weeks ago winds early in the week blew over the iris in my back bed that had blooms, which made the display not too eventful. The rest were OK and were soon in full bloom although because of the heat none of them lasted long. In the meantime, north at Arlee, Mary’s iris stood up to the wind and with this, the third season in her Garden of Dawn (my name for it, since it stands at the east end of her property) were the dominant color focus and a spectacular display although perhaps a bit past their peak.

However, Beth’s lower bed in the upper Grant Creek area was in full bloom and at the peak of color. Because this garden is higher it tends to be behind gardens in Missoula by a week or so. I didn’t see any tulips when I was there this week, but the first year I worked in her garden she had tulips until almost the Fourth of July!

Leaving their place I happened to spy a small colony of Montana’s native orchid, Cypripedium montanum. Some of the flowers had already faded – it is a bit late for them, even in Grant Creek – but several were still good enough to photograph. The two pictures show the variation within the species – a nicer, darker more chocolate color and the lateral sepals are held more horizontally.

Finding them didn’t come as a big surprise since I had seen them there before, but I did understand suddenly how my dad could be driving along a narrow mountain road and suddenly see a cat track (bobcat or mountain lion) at the bottom of the mountain. There is something that pulls us to look for what we are most tuned into, and whether we consciously see something or not the unconscious part of our brain suddenly wakes us up when we see it, and “poof” there it is. Almost magic. Growing up my dad had cat hounds and hunting them was a winter pastime. He turned 90 on Tuesday June, 23rd, so here is a picture of his first party.

Happy 90th Birthday, Dad!