17 February 2025 – Only a few days since my Frozen post, and the city has unfrozen itself. I’m off to meet friends at the VanDusen Botanical Garden, where we’re hoping for early-spring blossoms.
We arrive with hit lists: turns out we each lingered at the “Today in the Garden” displays on the way in, where volunteers regularly display sprigs of what’s seasonal, and cross-reference their suggestions to map locations.
It gives us a tempting and manageable list: Witch Hazel, Dogwood, Winter Aconite, Cornelian Cherry and the wonderfully exotic-sounding Dragon-s Eye Pine — plus, of course, whatever else comes our way.
The day is mild-ish and misty, with a barely perceptible drizzle in the air. Evergreens are dark against the sky as we veer right at Livingstone Lake…
and head for our first targets, along the Garden’s Winter Walk.
And there they are. Witch Hazel…
fiery Dogwood branches…
and a discovery we didn’t know we were going to make, the Ghost Bramble.
Even pruned back for winter, it’s easy to see how it got its name. In behind, another discovery — at least for me — the American Holly (on the left), with bright yellow berries rather than red.
The buds of the Cornelian Cherry are also bright yellow, though still very small and tightly furled.
We leave the Winter Walk, cut cross-country toward Heron Lake with a further target in mind — but are reminded, en route, that you don’t always need new growth for winter interest.
Sometimes, as the American Beech points out, all you have to do is hold on to your old leaves from summer.
Two more en-route bonuses: mist droplets glistening on the Giant Sequoia needles overhead…
and pretty little Winter Aconite buds bursting through leaf litter underfoot.
Plus — because I always notice — winter moss. This lot is on a wonderfully gnarled Something.
I don’t note the tree name; I’m too besotted with the moss to bother.
And then we’re across the zigzag footpath over Heron Lake, up the trail, and coming out the far end of the rocky tunnel that leads us to the Heath Garden.
Pretty as this garden-room is — and it is very pretty, all those heaths and heathers in all their jewel tones — it is not why we’re here. We’re hunting something at the periphery, over by the Laburnum Walk.
We want the Dragon’s Eye Pine.
And we find it!
With its bursts of green and white, it holds its own against the the birch, holly and evergreen backdrop.
More displays of moody evergreen needles against a moody sky…
and finally we’re circling back along the edge of Livingston Lake, with lunch by now uppermost in mind.
Until, that is, we see what the gardeners have done with the winter-yellowed ornamental grasses that cover the lake-side slope. They could have just let the the weary old blades flop on the ground. Or they could have cut them down and hauled them away.
But, no!
They braided them. Clump by clump, spiral by spiral.
We are properly delighted. We forget all about food as we discover the many varieties of grass-sculpture that inventive weaving can create.
When we do finally head off to lunch, we are in very good humour indeed.
WALKING WOMAN 