Spring is Coming

Every year, no matter how much I long for it, Spring comes on slowly.  As the morning chill starts to feel thin, there is expectancy in the air.  It’s a signal that reminds me to pay attention to the changes that have begun to emerge.  They are subtle, but still there, patiently waiting for me to notice.  Well before it brings warm breezes or blooms, the crocuses and daffodils peak through the soil, often to shake off a late round of snow, but growing nonetheless.  After cold months of stark forests and dull gardens, color begins to emerge.  These subtle changes can be found everywhere and I look for them eagerly, with my nose turned toward the sunlight as the days lengthen.  Then, something splendid emerges and I enjoy the surprise of the blooms.  Such is the case with these daffodils that are cheering up my shaded front yard.

Right next door, my peony has also begun to emerge.

There is much more to come of course, and that is the true joy of Spring, which starts slow but predictably results in a riot of abundant color and blooms.  I love the way the season builds anticipation and rewards my patience.

Tuesday Garden Update: July 26

At the start of July, I vowed that I would make a picture each week to accompany a Tuesday blog post about my garden.  Last week’s pictures never made it into a post because I was distracted by the horror of the RNC spectacle.  But I was out in the garden every day and in last week’s photos I can see all the evidence of the harvest soon coming my way.

Over the weekend, two of the largest tomatoes came ripe.  And with them, we’ve officially entered the delicious tomato portion of our summer.  

This week, the garden is a reflection of the past week’s sunny heat.  More tomatoes are on their way to ripening.  My zinnias have buds that hint of flowers and bouquets in my future.

Gardens are lessons in patience and careful effort.  They are a reminder that Mother Nature will not be rushed and that good things come to those who wait.  

New Bloom Thursday: Week 12

I’ve grown a lot of amaryllis bulbs in my time but I’ve never had one quite as slow growing as this year’s specimen.  As if to make up for it, the plant has been splendid, with both an enormous flower and a second bloom looking to show off.

I grow a garden as a reminder to be patient and look for unexpected happiness.  This year's flower has been a case study in the adage that good things come to those who wait.

Weekly Garden Update: July 27

All year long, I wait for the privilege of eating tomatoes still warm from the garden.  I keep track of the blossoms on my tomato plants, I visit the first tomatoes that set on, and I watch them each day for signs that they have ripened.  When the first few tomatoes come of the vines, it’s a glorious thing.  The crop comes on slowly and I’ve not yet reached the stage of tomato abundance.  But the signs are all there.

My zinnia seedlings seem to be tasty to the bunnies and other creatures who live in the backyard and I’ve started to despair of having bouquets to pick.  

Gardening is like that: filled with prospect and hope only to suffer the folly of fate in the form of weather, animals, or some other misfortune.

So I practice patience and resolve and I remember to take time to appreciate the crops that do come my way.

Spring Snow

I made some pictures of my backyard the morning after the March 20 snowstorm.  The snow was heavy and wet and it outlined every branch and surface in the yard in a precise and beautiful, if infuriating, way.

It was just a little more lovely because it’s the end of March and Spring has officially begun.  As I looked out in the yard yesterday morning, I was convinced that this heavy snow and the cold that it ushered it in can’t possibly last.

In fact, by the end of the day, the yard looked altogether different.

We are still in a patch of unseasonable cold, with temperatures more than 10 degrees below normal.  It will be a few more weeks before the trees begin to show their Spring colors.  But Spring is more glorious when it has been well-earned and I can be a patient woman.