Meet the ferns

The Lady Ferns were the first to get their names because it seemed silly for ladies to not have names. I'm not sure why my phone in all its wisdom has decided to give Lady Elisabeth such different lighting than Lady Katherine; I took these photos mere seconds apart, and the ferns themselves are pretty close together.

Lady Katherine

Lady Elisabeth

After that the Hay-Scented Fern told me he could be called Charlie, after my grandpa (who never actually went by Charlie, but whatev). Because I know you are wondering: no, Charlie doesn't smell like anything, hay or otherwise, to me. 

Charlie, poor Charlie.

I feel pretty bad about how poorly Charlie is doing. First, I left him in his pot for about half of last summer, literally overshadowed by the ladies beside him (though I didn't notice that part at the time), and only watering him when I noticed everyone was looking a bit droopy. Then I got so tired of trying to find spots in my yard to plant ferns which hadn't already been cris-crossed by too-large tree roots that I gave up and planted Charlie in an inadequate hole. You can see the result. *sigh*. I can only hope that he will continue to survive, and eventually thrive. Also I'm backing up that hope with extra water and fertilizer and encouraging words.

Dasher and Dancer are next to each other, and Donner is over on the far side of the yard, next to the fence rather than the sidewalk. Dancer was my only Christmas fern last year, but I ended up planting Dasher and Donner this year. As with other Christmas-named plants, these are named for that fact that they still have foliage during the cold time of year, when Christmas is in the northern hemisphere.

Dasher

Dancer

Donner

I decided on the names for the Ostrich Ferns last. The others had practically named themselves. I finally decided to go with Edward and Edwina when Mrs. Weathercolour suggested it; I'd thought of it, since I used to have a picture book titled "Edward the Emu," but her suggestion cinched it. (Ostriches aren't emus, but we both figured: close enough.) I feel a little bad for Edwin and Edwina, since the cicadas liked them an awfully lot. In the weeks since they got all that love the eggs have been hatching out, and Edwin and Edwina's fronds have been dying off rather much. And yet, they started out quite hale and hearty and happy, better equipped to deal with that kind of stress than probably anything else in the garden, so I'm not too worried for them.

Edwin

Edwina