Once again while I'm down south for winter, I am "borrowing" blooms for GBBD. Hope you don't mind.
One of my favorite past times is poking around old cemeteries. It's more about history and heart than the macabre. My daughter found this secluded cemetery when we made a quick return trip to Charleston for some J. Crew and another round of shrimp and grits at the Hominy Grill.
Down a shady, narrow path, tucked among the shops on King Street, you enter a cemetery much different than many in the low country. Often the graveyards here are a contrast of bare dirt and billowing azaleas; draped in gray Spanish moss with hot pink flowers popping against aging stone.
The Unitarian Cemetery at Archdale Street is lush with flowers and vegetation, the greenery knitted together almost as if to hold the leaning stones and crumbling tombs together against the slow passage of time. What a hidden gem.
Cemeteries are known to be the repository not only of souls but that of tough and sometimes long-forgotten plants. I would love nothing more than to spend a year researching all the species thriving in this intimate space. With only a few hours, I settled for a stroll among the late-winter and early-spring flowers.
As I find so many southern plants I can't grow up north, I made a mental note to plant some of these delightful little bulbs next fall. Hardy to Zone 3! The little white petals on these bell-shaped blooms are tipped with a spot of green, resembling little fairy hats.
I did do a little research later, coming to the conclusion this variety of daffodil is a southern heirloom called Grand Primo, harking from the 1800's.
Even with all of that turbulent history, it seems a peaceful resting place. The kind of place where a gardener might want to turn in her trowel.