Love-in-a-Mist
Because of the very late start of the season the annuals are a few weeks behind schedule. Not the tomatoes, mind you, they tower over the garden dwarfing their companion plants, but the annual flowers, most of which are just now starting to bloom. They sprouted from under the perennial foliage a little shy, the colorful rosettes of the zinnias, the tall spikes of French mallow, the cheerful moss roses.
Through the healthy bustle of vegetal activity, among cheerful daisies, intoxicating garden phlox and aristocratic roses, love in a mist found its way up to the sunshine, lacier and more delicate than a bridal veil.
Love in a mist was a very popular flower in Victorian gardens because its unusual combination of blooms and textured foliage creates interest with very little effort. Nigella is eager to reseed, but not invasive, a well behaved plant that can benefit any sunny flower border.
It is strange that the legends around this flower are not about love, but about deception, loss and embarrassment, I wonder why that is? Love in a mist is the sweetest, prettiest flower you’ll ever see: its spidery veil is soft to the touch and fuzzy and surrounds their cobalt blue and snow white flowers like a starched Edwardian collar.
They are not very tall and can get lost in the jungle my garden becomes mid-July, bullied by the cheeky nicotianas and the overarching reach of goldenrod. If you get a little closer, though, you can’t miss their old fashioned little flowers that sparkle in jewel colors, floating over a sea of green foam.