Written last week. Now: 4/28/25.
Twirls of leaves still wound tight, the hosta reach for the sun. Legions of them. Lilies of the Valley, which will annoy the gardener later in the season for their invasive vigor, in late April offer a glad carpet of green. Four daffodils — not four banks or four clumps, but exactly 4 daffodils — grow in this yard, and not even altogether. Two bloom out front next to the chimney and two bloom outback next to the tall yew.
Rhodies and euphorbia died. Rabbits ate one entire pot of purple pansies.
But oh, just look at the fluttering leaves of the Virginia Bluebells. You don’t notice them emerging — they are just suddenly up. Both delicate and hardy, their oblate leaves turn luminescent at certain hours of the morning. And they spread — not just into adjacent pockets of soil, but clear across the yard beyond the patio. Some flowers are plumbago blue, others white. I have no idea why.
The mold on the plastic gate comes off with warm water, a rag, and the occasional pass of a toothbrush where the pikes meet the cross brace. Satisfying.
A satisfying chore is by definition one that offers immediate noticeable results.
The ferns announce themselves shyly. Fronds rolled near the surface of the soil, still tightly wound like Spanish dancers who wait for the proper refrain to snap open and flutter their fans. Oh, but they will. They will, and soon.
During the week of their uncurling, their rise happens so quickly you swear you should be able to hear them growing. You will pause to shoot a video, half expecting the 15-second capture to creak and whisper.
The Montauk Daisies you stole from a teardown around the corner have settled in. Good news! You only took a dozen stalks and now wish you’d taken more. Over on Langley Road, the specimen was a veritable shrub, so hardy, so thriving! May this little clump go crazy and grow shrub-like too!
Hyacinth flop under the weight of their almost obscene beauty. You therefore feel no compunction about snapping the fallen stalks and bringing them indoors where their signature scent perfumes the kitchen from the windowsill. Such a heady smell!
Other things will not get done now. Closet clearing, quilt binding, postcard writing. Why? Because the soil needs replenished near the astilbe. Because that invasive mallow needs digging up near the side gate. Because the Rose of Sharons need pruned and the liatris thinned. You still haven’t finished snapping all the ghostly gray stalks off the sedum yet.
It’s the call of nature, improbable and yet present even here in suburbia. We measure the strength of its siren lure by how TO DO lists are never required for its multiplicity of tasks. We ignore the indoor TO DO lists with a decisive abandon.
Now excuse me. I need to go move a few artemisia.
Spring has me by the secateurs, for sure! Lol
I cannot focus on anything but!
You too huh?
Lovely observations… Thank you!
Dee~ The Virginia Bluebells are lovely! How interested I am in reading of the garden awakening…who returns, who remains…like old friends chatting once more, says she from land of only napping, for no deep sleeps here. Enjoy!
Nancy
I’ve been missing deep sleeps here as well. Arg!
You’ve just pictured all the things I love about spring …. my most favorite time of year. Not the ups and downs the weather brings but the gardens waking up is the best.
It is so lovely especially on days with a little sun!
My gardening chores these days consist of tending my one pot of pansies; later perhaps, I may plant a few herbs in pots. No longer do I plant seeds in the earth and pray for miracles! One of the things most missed about our other home in New Mexico, was the vast backyard garden where we grew corn, squash, assorted lettuce, Swiss chard, tomatoes, herbs and even watermelons for our grand kids The backyard had been planted with lilacs and Spanish broom which were added bonuses.. Here, in this apartment complex, I have only a strip of earth to plant and even amended with good soil and compost, results were uneven as the strip of earth is shadowed by the old apple tree so veggies did not do all that well. Plus over the past three years, I do have limits on my time and gradually would rather spend them on reading or my cloth work than trying to coax this bit of land into a garden!
One thing that has been a joy for me and my husband, however, is that next to our local library, is a wonderful New Mexico demonstration garden. Rich takes his rollator for a stroll along the many paths; I usually travel along, marveling at the layout and the volunteers who do the grunt work of keeping it lovely albeit not totally immaculate because they believe as I do, that there should be a natural look and flow to a garden. Over the years that we have lived here, they have allowed me to forage for windfall once I brought one of my dyed cloth landscape collages to show them what I do with foraged materials. This demo garden is a lovely spot, with hanging grapes and benches and meandering paths. I close my eyes and feel that it is my garden and as I look at some of the cloths on my wall, I rejoice in the fact that a part of this garden is with me in my home.
Your old garden sounds just amazing. And so does the library garden. The way they let you collect windfall after seeing some of your cloths restores my faith in humanity.
I confess that I no longer garden as my creaky knees and arthritic fingers make it painful … fortunately, Don loves to garden and we both love to volunteer at the Wildflower Center, so I get to enjoy the fruits and flowers of other folks’ labors
I understand. Glad you have access to the Wildflower Center! I want to divide some hosta this week but only if we set up one of our six foot tables in the driveway to reduce the amount of squatting!