Hostas: a world travelling plant

I never thought much of hostas. Just a plant with big leaves and weird flowers was my thinking. And then the newspaper sent me to take pictures of a fellow who had an award-winning backyard garden filled with hostas, hundreds of hostas.

It was incredible. I had no idea that hostas came in so many varieties. The gentleman bragged that he had almost 200 different varieties. Since then I've learned there are more than 3000 registered varieties with possibly another 5000 unregistered throughout the world. This massive number of plants springs from a much smaller number of hosta species—40 to 45 would be a good guess.

That man made me a hosta believer. I love them. And the rabbits love them, too. It turns out hostas are related to asparagus and like asparagus are edible. The tender, young shoots are said to be best be but rabbits will eat them old as well. Apparently, the Japanese are quite generous in what they look for in a hosta for the table: small shoots, large eaves, even pretty flowers are all considered edible. If you see urui on the menu when in Japan, you are about to be served hosta as a vegetable.

The other day I took my granddaughters to a place that specializes in hostas: Hosta Choice Gardens. I got two new hostas. One promises to be a brute in a year or two. It may be six-feet wide and four-feet tall with giant golden leaves when mature.

Hosta Choice only sells hostas. That said, I saw some beautiful ferns growing there, plus some lugwort and bugleweed or ajuga that was speading wildly on one pathway. I admired all three and soon had a number of ferns, lugwort and ajuga in pots ready to take home. There was no charge for the non-hosta plants. Hosta Choice only sells hostas and therefore would only charge me for the two hostas.

I may live to regret planting the ajuga. It is a very hardy ground cover that sends out runners and expands its territory rapidly. I'm putting it on my hill overlooking my home. A bit of crazy wild ground cover may be desirable on the hill. That said, come back in ten years. My neighbours may be cursing my name.

If you're seven, you don't travel far for an adventure

My seven-year-old granddaughter likes to go on adventures. You might think adventures are hard to come by in suburbia. Nope. Not if you're seven.

Many suburban streets are linked by pathways. These offer pedestrians a shorter route from street to street when compared to the route cars must take.

At dusk these pathways get quite shadowy as there are often few or even no streetlights. It is at this hour that the pathways become pathways to an adventure. Last night we made the journey one way but it was simply too dark for returning without having one's heart pound right out of one's chest. We took the sidewalk home.

A new, treeless subdivision doesn't stay new or treeless

It doesn't seem all that long ago that my subdivision was a large piece of bare land above a recently closed gravel pit. First came the roads, then the homes but now the area is filled with many tall trees. I look around and realize that my subdivision has matured. Many of the clichés once used to describe it no longer apply.

My lily growers have retired.

I took my granddaughters to the lily gardens. The gardens were gone. The place had closed. The couple who had run the operation for decades had retired. I should not have been surprised but I was. I had check the Internet before making promises to the girls but the Internet can be so out-of-date.

I'm now looking for another place with a great selection of lilies. The garden supply places rarely have more than a dozen choices. My old supplier had more than a hundred and some were awfully unique and truly beautiful.

Oh well, nothing lasts forever.

Horner Lilies: a local supplier of lilies and beauty

If you want lilies, the place to go in the London area is Horner Lilies on the edge of town near suburban Thorndale. Run by the Horner family, there are numerous gardens with more than a hundred different kinds of lilies.

I bought my lilies there and will be going back tomorrow to order some more. I'm taking my granddaughters and encouraging them to pick out a couple each that they can plan and we can all enjoy.

Customers wander the grounds, check out the blooms while noting note of the ones they like the best. On leaving, one orders the plants one wants and then picks up the bulbs ordered come fall.

Inspired by Sheila

I have an artist friend who loves to do paintings of flowers. She doesn't just paint the gorgeous blossoms in fully bloom but she tells the life story of blooms. Look carefully and you will find new buds, growing buds, opening buds, full blooms (often featured) and finally blooms with their petals withered, dead.

When shooting this picture of lilies, which were locally grown and sold by a man and his wife who specialize in growing gorgeous lilies, I included more than I would have if I had not been influenced by my friend and her storytelling approach to flower art.

Capturing action easier today

Years ago I taught up-and-coming journalists how to shoot pictures. Originally the course used film cameras and all the technical stuff was important. With film one didn't know that one had missed the picture until hours after the fact. By the time the film was processed and an image pulled, it was too late for a reshoot in most cases.

Photographers, dependable shooters, were important back then and they were paid well for their talents and technical expertise. Today things are different.

The last time I taught a photo class, I think the group was very disappointed. I was given very little time to teach and so zeroed in on enthusiasm. Journalists no longer had to expend oodles of energy learning the photographic ropes before going out and capturing some damn fine images.

Cameras today, even relatively inexpensive ones like my old Fuji, are capable of grabbing good action when set to automatic. Point and shoot.

Today, where you point your camera is the big deciding factor. To be honest, photography was always about the image—where you pointed your camera—but the technical stuff all too often got in the way.

Today, you can have fun first and learn the technical stuff on the fly. I don't think the budding journalists were impressed. When it came to taking pictures, they did not want to be told to think.

I used to call reporters who took pictures "reluctant." They saw themselves as story tellers and they told their stories with words not with pictures. I wonder if this is changing as newsrooms shrink and staff numbers tighten.