Category: photography

From “Clematis” in A Family of Flowers: Clematis and the Ranunculaceae by Deborah Kellaway:

“Clematis is called the ‘Queen of Climbers’. It is also queen of the whole family of Ranunculaceae. Like all monarchs, it stands a little apart from the others and above them: unlike almost all its relations, it knows how to climb. You can buy it at any garden centre in the land. There will be a row of young, pot grown plants tied to neat bamboos, sometimes upright, sometimes toppled over in the wind….

“Closed, the bud of a species clematis is globular, that of a large-flowered hybrid is long and pointed, often with a suggestion of concertina pleats. There is a silvery bloom on these pointed buds with just a hint of the colour which will later be revealed on the other side. Open, the points of the bud divide to supply the points of the star: sometimes six-pointed, sometimes eight, according to how many sepals there are; in the middle of every clematis flower is the burst of stamens that is characteristic of the buttercup family…. In every case the contrasting stamens give sparkle to the flower….”

From “A Living Palette” in Forever Beyond Us: Poems by Errol Miller:

A little country place
with deep dark soil and children
round about the knee, a limestone stream
rushing into infinity and the daily paper
delivered every day on time, you construct
the geometric pattern of thought
forgetting about trouble, you construct
a narrow white trellis for roses
and wait for tomorrow, this is the Old South
and New England and the Midwest and the North
you take a path leading away from the garden
you want to make a copy of today
a brick wall to hold back the future, you go
past the clematis vine and the garlic patch
you paint a large blue mural…

and you remember how much
you love this time, this place.

Hello!

This is the second of three posts featuring Clematis flowers that live in a hugemungous pot in my backyard. The first post is Clematis Abundance (1 of 3).

For each of the photos in this second post, I aimed the camera toward a single flower with the goal of producing images where the center structures were sharply focused. In the two varieties I have, that center structure is between one and two inches in diameter, a size that’s typical of Clematis flowers with large blooms. To get adequate front-to-back detail in closeup or macro shots like this, I experimented with numerous aperture settings to adjust depth of field, threw out many experiments I wasn’t satisfied with, and occasionally stepped farther back from the flower then (cheated a little and) cropped the image to fill more of the frame.

The structure is well-described in the excerpt at the top of this post as a “burst of stamens that is characteristic of the buttercup family…. In every case the contrasting stamens give sparkle to the flower.” The “burst of stamens” is a distinctive feature; its colors often contrast with those of the rest of the flower’s colors; and the “sparkle” described in the excerpt comes from a combination of the smooth texture of the stamens and the pollen dust scattered on each stamen’s tip. The stamens’ smooth texture gives each one a bit of a glow, even in diffused lighting, and they’re also very reflective — so you will see that the center structure overall will reflect some yellow or green tones wherever the flower is close to the deep green of nearby twists of leafy vines.

Thanks for taking a look!

From “Clematis” in A Family of Flowers: Clematis and the Ranunculaceae by Deborah Kellaway:

“When you have made your garden, when you think it is full, you can begin all over again, covering it with clematis. You may start with one or two — perhaps a vigorous C. montana to hide an ugly fence or a choice large-flowered hybrid to spread along a wall. But if that large-flowered hybrid is pink, the time will come when you want a blue one too, and then, perhaps, a red, a white, a purple….

“Meanwhile you see a choice pale lavender species trailing out of someone else’s large tub in spring. Soon you see how other people plant species clematis to cover shrubs that have finished flowering or to climb into trees, or even to lie about in herbaceous borders. Almost any clematis in full flower will tempt you. It is possible to imagine the day when your whole garden will be covered with clematis, all other plants serving merely as its props. It does not belong to any single month; there is a clematis for every season, for every aspect, for every place….”

From “In Zurich” in So That It Flower: A Gathering of Poems by Melville Cane:

No one seems to care for it
Nowadays, nor want a bit
Blooming. Maybe it’s not fit,
But my good grandmother
Used to train and trellis ours,
Loved the large, calm, starry flowers,
Washed them with informal showers
In a fluttered smother.

Bird-quick, little, bright of eye,
Chatty with the passer-by,
(Neighbors thought her “pretty spry”)
Such a quaint old lady,
Spattering her calicoes
With the serpentining hose,
Or in rocking brief repose
Where the vine was shady.

There was not along the street
Quite so blue a bloom or sweet,
Nothing trellised that I meet
These days is as pretty.
Maybe — I rather fancy this! —
One of many mansions is
Bright with purple clematis
In the Shining City.

Hello!

Before making the transition to autumn photography here, I decided to create a series of three posts featuring some Clematis vines that live in a giant pot in my backyard. I took these photos over several days in early summer when the plants were still at the height of their blooming cycle, so the photos include unopened buds, buds in their early stages of opening, and full-sized adult flowers. I got a little carried away with both a zoom lens and a macro lens — hence three posts and around 100 photos — but that just means we get a lot more impressive flowers to look at.

I first planted these Clematis in this pot a couple of years ago, after they’d barely survived a deep freeze in four smaller pots where they were originally located. What I planted was a few nearly bare, tiny root structures with a couple of wee vines protruding from each one, and I had doubts whether I’d ever see them grow and bloom again. The pot they’re now located in — which is about three feet tall and two feet wide at the opening — also houses a Concord Grapevine (a cultivar of Vitis labrusca) that I’ve shared photos of before. As you can see from this photo — showing only about a quarter of the Clematis plant, the rest of which continues up a trellis behind the plants — the Clematis have taken over the pot. It took just three years for the plants to take root and grow from almost nothing to this abundant size.

The Concord Grapevine has diminished a lot in the wake of the Clematis vines’ exuberance, either due to its age (I’ve had it for at least 15 years), or unsuccessfully competing with the Clematis for nutrients, or a little of both — though you may see a few hints of its presence among the photos. Since the Clematis is new to this location, I expect it may have a long lifespan still ahead of it, as might be concluded from the number of flowers being produced, as well as the size and intense green color of its vines and leaves.

Plants in the Clematis genus are members of the Ranunculaceae family, a large one often referred to as the Buttercup family. The number of Clematis variants and hybrids is also quite large, and unless you already know their names, it’s often difficult to determine from observation or from photographs what species you’re looking at. I’ve often wondered if I had more than two varieties, since — as you can see from these photos — opening flowers (on the left of each row) look a lot different than they do when blooming is complete. But I took some time this year to trace the flowers along their vines, and determined that the pair at the top are a single variant, and the pair at the bottom are a second, distinct variant.

When I originally bought the Clematis plants shown on the top row, they had no plant tag, so I never knew what they were. Those on the second row had a tag identifying them as Clematis Bernadine, but that’s likely their horticultural name rather than their scientific name, as there is no “Clematis Bernadine” species. But we’re most likely looking at close relatives of Clematis × jackmanii (the prominent stripes are common to this hybrid); and Clematis lanuginosa, whose flowers often fade to near white with purple/violet shading. Neither of these identifications is definitive, especially given how many species, variants, and hybrids exist within the Clematis genus that have very similar form and color. They are, as I hope you can see, quite gorgeous plants regardless of their names — and I think it will be fun to see how much bigger and more robust they get over the next few years.

Thanks for reading and taking a look!