Mini garden (for my Mum)

Liebs Mueti, dear friends
I promised to let you have a look at my new summer furniture and, while I'm at it, I'll show off some of my more successful mini-garden experiments.
The sun and Mr. Blackbird, a feisty specimen, woke me early one gorgeous May morning (May 24, 06, to be precise), in time to catch the light playing on my pride and joy, aquilegia (or columbine). They have been coming back spring after spring after spring. Very healthy looking after a long, harsh winter that killed off a lot of the aphids that usually sweep in from the sycamores opposite. Mind you, the ladybugs follow in hot pursuit. Their larvae have a particularly voracious appetite and gobble up aphids (or greenfly) galore.
By the way, the red flower in the middle is a nodding Ranunculus asiaticus var., or «Ranunkel» or Persian buttercup or Garden ranunculus, a gift from my brilliant neighbour, D., who usually looks after my plants when I'm away. On my return from my spring holidays, I found red and white buttercups and blue forget-me-nots -- the tricolor of the Union Jack! -- , oh and a bunch of purple-and-yellow little pansies planted in my boxes. Lovely! I'm hoping to coax the buttercups through to next year. The forget-me-nots and pansies will take care of themselves; already they're producing lots of seeds!
To go back to my columbines, even in a less than perfect year, they can look pretty good (the following photo is from 2004):
Remember that glorious May morning? Interesting effects of the brilliant sideways light, don't you think?
I'm particularly proud of the little very dark columbines grown from seed I received as a gift from one of the botanists at the local botanical gardens:
In previous summers, this is what caught my eye most days: columbines and orange California poppies were thriving in the same box last June (05) as a sunflower was muscling in and a Rose campion (Lychnis coronaria) made the most of its sunny position. 3)
From a different angle, another great favourite, delphinium grown from seed taken from flowers in a birthday nosegay. Aren't they simply gorgeous?
Last year, I left the withered plants out for a long time and was fascinated to find that little Eurasian great tits (Parus major) came to feast on the seeds, dangling upside down on stalks that seemed much too thin for their weight.
Some sturdy-looking specimens of Roman camomile grown from seed from one of my Mum's birthday bouquets for me are coming up now and will soon be in flower. They're unstoppable (the next photo was taken on June 20, 06, and shows the camomile competing for attention with one of my prize columbines and Dago's pansies, still going strong after ceaseless flowering for the past two months and more):
Did I say Roman camomile? Cheers to anyone who comes up with the proper latin name of this plant for me. :)
P.S. added May 28, 06, after receiving a comment from «R» -- for which much thanks, whoever you are, «R»:
«R»'s comment has prompted me to stop being lazy and search the Web for some botanical info on this plant (see end for credits). I'm amazed at the aptness of this flower being here, on a post dedicated to my Mum. :)
What I call «römische Kamille» or Roman camomile has many, many different names, both in Latin, German and English (and other languages). Let's begin with the Latin:
«R» mentioned Chameamelum nobile, which is fine. But then there's Chrysanthemum parthenium,Matricaria parthenium, Chamomillae romanae flos, Anthemis nobilis L, Ormenis nobilis (L.). Earlier botanists used Anthemis chamomilla-romana (CRANTZ), Anthemis odorata (LAM.), Chamaemelum odoratum (DOD.), Chamomilla nobilis (GOD.), Leucanthemum odoratum (EID. AP.), Lyonnetia abrotanifolia (WEBB.), Matricaria nobilis (BAILL.) and Ormenis aurea. [1)]
In German, «römische Kamille» and «Mutterkraut», which indicates a gynecological use, «Mutter-» not only denoting mother but also the womb or uterus.
In English, we've already had Roman camomile (or chamomile). It's also known as English chamomile, garden chamomile, Garden-scotch, Ground apple, Low chamomile, noble chamomile, Russian chamomile, Small chamomile, Whig plant. One author [2)] bought her seeds in England under the name of Feverfew, aka Matricaria (or Chrysanthemum) parthenium, which loops us back to «Mutterkraut», and to my Mum.
Thank you, «R», this has been quite a trip!

My interest in flowers was originally nurtured by the women in my family, and here's a homage to my mother, who -- year after year -- spoils me with flowers straight from her huge garden. This year will likely be the last because my parents recently bought a new flat and are hoping to sell the old house to someone motivated to take on a project.
Thanks for the flowers, Mum, and for everything!
This year's early birthday nosegay from Mum's garden -- yes, the garden's still there, and the foxgloves are particularly stunning just now. See for yourself:
Over a week later, a day before the big day -- June 23 for anyone desiring to post their birthday wishes to me ;) -- they're still looking good:
And the last Birthday Bunch is absolutely spectacular -- thank you, Mum! Shame you can't enjoy the perfume of the rose and the Dianthus barbatus. Pure magic!
These are for you, Mum:
P.S. (added June 20, 06): I don't remember ever having columbines in full bloom beyond mid-June, still flowering when the delphiniums come up. Well, this is an extraordinary summer, with spring compressed into two weeks, temperatures up by 20°C within just a few days, then down again by 10°C within a couple of hours -- crazy! Here, by the way, is what I mean. And no, I used no genetic modification to produce the sunflower with the delphinium blossoms... :)
TTFN and thanks for your time! :)

1) According to http://www.pharmakobotanik.de/systematik/6droge-f/chamrofl.htm -- excellent source (German).
2) http://www.museumsgarten.de/mutterkraut.html -- a great website (German/English) with lots of photos, sadly not updated since 2004.
3) On my birthday, June 23, thank you to Kathy Miller in the Pacific Northwest, who has some stunning, highly professional flower images, among them Lychnis coronaria (if you google that name, you'll be bound to find her site).

Another Swiss Blog -- schools this time

Hi, I'm back.
Ok, all you gals and guys abroad, since you insist, yes I will take you on a little tour of school buildings. But please note that this is very much a work in progress, and early pictures were not taken with architectural interests in mind. In fact, sometimes the buildings themselves were not what really mattered to this here photographer. But see for yourselves.
Let me start with one of the oldest specimens. This little school was built in 1859/60; in 1873 the upper floor and the clock turret were added. Ever since, it has been known as the «Tuermlischulhaus» («Tuermli»= turret). It was here that coeducation was introduced to Bernese schools.
Outside the western entrance, the foundain proclaims its age (1870).
The playground used to look dismal until a few interesting features were introduced about five years ago, once the renovation work on the school was completed:
I rather like the next one, with its red window frames, verdigris dormer windows and eaves. Currently used as a training school for secondary school teachers (it's part of the Institute of Pedagogy of the University of Bern), it was built in the 1930s when the neighbourhood was going through a spurt of growth, fields were built over and the city limits pushed north. The local «Volkshochschule» (or Academy of Adult Education) use classrooms in the evenings, too, and I used to be one of the teachers.
The above is a photo I took on a weekend in the autumn of 2005, well, mid-December, actually. The valiant little sycamore was just stunning in the early afternoon sun.
And this is what things looked like eight days later, Dec. 26: the golden glory is gone, the school has taken on a chill aspect. This was holiday time, but someone's working -- or left the lights on. Do teachers never stop?
That's better, don't you think? May evening, with the setting sun warming a façade that looks pretty drab on a grey day.
Some more recent photos of the same school, from different angles, starting with the main access to the north-east, taking you around the north-east end to the south-east facade with its huge windows.
This is the south-west entrance - very plain, very elegant -- and very hot behind that glass on a summer afternoon!
Between this chunky, yet graceful school and the «old» school, some gormless sixties architect inserted an eyesore of a pavilion (lack of funding is no excuse for poor architecture).
Several years ago, teachers and their kids painted their version of the four seasons on the lower frieze of the façade to brighten up the dismal aspect. It was a constructive way of muscling out the otherwise ubiquitous graffiti:
The gabled little school next door is probably the oldest in my series. It was built in 1833 and renovated in 1905. It started out as a primary school for the population living along the little stream downhill and westward. Until about twenty years ago it served as the training primary school for the trainee teachers from the building in the previous pix, and is now part of the Institute of Pedagogy of the local university.
And this is part of the playground between the «new» and old schools:
On a cold and foggy day early in 2006, the old school looked like this:
Oh yes, it was a cold and foggy afternoon that day -- mid-January 06, to be precise. But we have proper winters, too, and that's what the school looks like then (March 04):
The air ambulance homing in on the nearby hospital, and the weather always seem to be coming in over those spires, which may serve as lightning rods (the next photos were taken in July and Oct. 04):
And on a good day in spring or fall (or in a bigger picture) you can see several hot-air balloons floating in (March 03):
Occasionally, as in May 06, a rainbow spans the two schools:
Can you see the rainbow in the middle one?
More to come -- I hope! Thanks for coming back.