I am a gardener. That is to say, I plant things and I obsessively enjoy watching them grow. It doesn't always work as I would like. In the spring I stare at the bare soil most mornings, cup of coffee in hand, and will things to burst forth. If you are a gardener you understand this. If you are not a gardener I don't know what you think. Having survived such a long and agonizingly drawn-out winter, I am taking extra delight in my spring garden, for which I've been forced to wait. Did I mention we had snow showers the last week of April? I write the following list purely to remind myself, but in case anyone out there is reading, I'll share spring's ten most delightful things in my garden.
1. The hairy, solitary blossom that modestly hides under the leaves of the wild ginger plant. You have to be a 'real gardener' to look for this tiny, understated blossom. Spotting this bloom is my private little secret. This is no flashy daffodil or tulip bloom. My gardening snobbery emerges. Perhaps even better than spotting the unassuming blossom, watching the leaves of the wild ginger plant unfold as it pushes up through the earth is pure gardener dessert. Wild ginger leaves are living origami packages that unfold in stages, like pages of a pop-up book, at times faintly resembling a StarWars battleship cruiser. You can take my word for it.
2. I delight in the deeply red wine-colored veins of the heuchera. When I lived in the Pacific Northwest these leaves were often devoured by slugs. Thankfully, not so much, in my current midwest location. What gardener can resist these leaf colors that, incidentally, last throughout the summer? Who needs blossoms with delicious leaves like this?
3. I delight in the ferns. Only the most distracted can pass the place in their gardens where ferns reside and not look for those tightly curled fronds, tense with potential energy, ready to spring open in shapes suggestive of shepherd's hooks or seahorses or elven-sized saxophones. And oh, when there is sunlight on those symmetrical tender fronds, perfection! Perfection in a garden, or in anything for that matter, is so fleeting. I love the ferns in the early spring!
4. I am delighted by the daffodils; the early sentinels that stand watch over the garden and alertly signal the other plants it is safe to come out. These are the forward guards of the garden. They fear not the deer nor the late frost nor the heavy rain. Daffodils stand, ever cheerful and so detailed, with ruffled trumpets and graceful petals. I hope that I can be as resilient during storms as the daffodils!
5. I delight in the four tulips that the deer did NOT eat.
5. I delight in the four tulips that the deer did NOT eat.
6. The native trillium that poke up, untended and unintended, feed my need for early spring progress while other, later-waking perennials slowly make headway. What gardener can resist their dappled leaves and crimson blossoms as they bring nature's punctuation to nearly barren flower beds. They are delightful.
7. & 8. Patterns! I'm delighted by the harlequin checkered pattern of the frittilaria with their elegant bell-shaped blossoms that come early and linger, if uninterrupted, until late in the spring. And don't overlook the speckled leaves of pulmonaria, wearing fashionable polka-dots because they can. These little details are the stuff of my delight.
9. & 10. The company of birds! What is more delightful than the nuthatches that scour the tree bark as adeptly upside down as right-side-up? In the dark feathers at the back of their heads I see Batman's broadly shouldered cape. And finally, the poorly-named red-bellied wood pecker, with white belly and red cap, while usually bashful, found it no hardship to pose for the camera today. The birds and I work side by side in the spring and their presence is delightful in my garden. To the humans in my family and the lumbering dog, I find myself saying with alarm, "Watch your step! That's a little plant sprouting there." The birds give me no cause for concern.
All of the winter whining, the cold and freeze and snow is now forgotten. For just a few days, all is delight. Soon enough, I'll hear myself talking about the humidity, the weeds and grubs, and, of course, the mosquitos. That is a list for another time. For now I'm just savoring the delights in my garden.
All of the winter whining, the cold and freeze and snow is now forgotten. For just a few days, all is delight. Soon enough, I'll hear myself talking about the humidity, the weeds and grubs, and, of course, the mosquitos. That is a list for another time. For now I'm just savoring the delights in my garden.
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