Blooms in the grass

The museum lawn is thick with moss, spongy to walk on, like a feather bed to lie on. Which I had to do to take these photos of tiny flowers.

So delicate!

Nose height. (If you're lying flat.)

I gave up trying to identify them. Just glad they're there.

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El césped del museo es la mitad musgo; es como caminar sobre almohadas. Si te acuestas, lo que tuve que hacer para sacar estas fotos, se siente como un cama de plumas. Las flores miden apenas unos cuantos centímetros. No las pude identificar, pero me alegra saber que existen.

Miniature beauties

On the path around the beaver pond, I came across these tiny bright specks in the grass.

Unidentfied. Five split petals, palest mauve with stripes and a yellow butterfly shape beckoning pollinators; densely-packed leaves on the flowering stem. So tiny, I could not see their shape; the camera serves as a magnifying lens.

The plants were about a foot tall; each leafy stalk had a few flowers blooming near the tip.

Sharp-pointed leaves,palmate, opposite, alternating directions.

And I give up: I've spent several hours trying to identify them, and failing. Do you recognize them?

Update: That was quick; a naturalist in Crete gave me a genus, and I found them here: it's Eyebright, Euphrasia stricta. (Probably)

(Why I love blogging!)

More perfect tinies

I couldn't identify these flowers. They grew in the shade beside the path, only a few inches tall.

Pale pink flowers, and one bud.

A few more, a bit blurry, with two growing seed pods.

The flowers have 4 petals and 4 sepals, and barely open at the tip before they fall, leaving the fertilized ovary to develop. At most, the flowers are about 1/2 inch long.

Update: It's been identified for me, on Twitter. It's European field bitter-cress. Cardamine pratensis, aka cuckoo-flower, cuckoo bitter-cress, or lady's-smock.

Totally immodest

The gardens and sidewalks are full of exhibitionists these days, shamelessly advertising their sexual availability, sending come-hither messages far and wide.

Flowers, in other words.

Dogwood, Cornus nutallii, probably.

The flowers are clumped together in a tight ball in the centre of the arrangement, sort of like a bride's bouquet. Each one looks like a greenish little tub with white petals, tipped with purple; the whole posy is surrounded by tethered satellite anthers.* The white "petals" are bracts; they're coarse and leathery to touch.

Zooming in on one of the flower clusters.

Pink and orange rose.

My columbine keeps on flowering as long as I remember to deadhead frequently.

The first flowers on my tiny salal, Gaultheria sp. The first one has a swollen ovary; she's building a purple berry in there.

I bought three baby salal plants a couple of years ago, each one a different species. Only two survived, and now I don't remember which of the survivors was the native, Guaultheria shallon, and which was an import.

Unidentified, so far. *Update: it's Olympic Bellflower, Campanula piperi. Thanks, Sara!

This plant had escaped a pot and was crawling along a wall in Beach Grove. Laurie took its photo a couple of years ago. A couple of months ago, I went to see how it was doing, and the owner of the house was there. I asked him about the plant; he didn't know what it was, told me it was likely to be invasive, and insisted on digging up a good-sized chunk for me.

I put it in a wide hanging pot and forgot to water it until I noticed it had almost died. Since then, I've remembered, and it has grown. And grown. It has filled the pot and is loaded with flowers.

I've looked it up on Google (who can't count and doesn't know its colours) but I can't find anything to match. Do you recognize it?

Two flowers, the roundish, jagged-edged leaves, and a bonus orange spider.

And I've got another batch of blooms waiting in the camera.

*How's that for mixed metaphors?