In the February Garden

A wintry storm with bitter cold temperatures is headed our way, though whether it actually arrives is another matter. Forecasters tend to get excited and talk for days about any sort of ice or snow, but often it fizzles out and we all end up with extra milk and bread for no good reason. (The grocers in our area must be thrilled whenever winter precipitation is predicted, as everyone is obligated to stock up for blizzard conditions, even if only a dusting of snow is forecast. This is tradition.)

Yesterday, while Lou went to the store for emergency milk and bread, I went for a walk around the garden. There are a few flowers blooming in anticipation of spring, which, winter storm or not, should be here in a few weeks.

Flowering quince, Chaenomales, is one of the earliest signs of spring and will continue to bloom profusely for weeks:

Hellebores also are early bloomers, and their flowers will persist for months, all of them eventually shading to pale green:Fortunately, most of my daffodils are not yet blooming and should do OK through the winter storm, but a few are flowering. I am glad I got to see them before they got zapped:Here are some more scenes around the February garden:

You may note the Nandina domestica, growing above. This has proven to be terribly invasive, and I have pulled hundreds of these plants out of my woodland garden. The area shown here is a wild area immediately adjacent to the garden. I have given up trying to eradicate them all, and I am now content to keep them under control. My neighbors love these, and one can still find them for sale. Sigh. At least they are pretty.

I will end with a few pot shots, focusing on details, since most of these containers are empty, waiting for spring:

Early Spring in Deb's garden

Redbud trees are blooming.But the garden is a mess. Bales of pine straw are waiting to be spread. A large heap of mulch and sacks of sand and soil are off to one side. Heavy pavers for a new walkway are stacked upon a pallet. Projects are being attacked that should have been completed already but haven't been, because who wants to work in the icy temperatures that we were having until recently?

It is all very exciting, and my garden juices are flowing like the river that rushes over Niagara Falls; and I go headfirst, tumbling till I hit bottom and realize I can't do this. I am fortunate to have Lou, who is retired and is an eager helper. So I am the supervisor, and we will get it done when we get it done.

Every year is like this, and I wonder if the time will come when everything is completed, and all we have to do in the spring is to tidy up, then sit back on the patio and drink refreshing drinks while we listen to the birds chirp. I doubt it, for there is always another project on the horizon, whether or not we know it. When we become too feeble for gardening, then we will pass the garden to younger souls with stronger bodies and new ambition. Or maybe it will simply die away, a lost garden choked by weeds and held alive only in fading memories. I can accept that.

But for now, I still feel the rush. Washes of color are showing up in the gray landscape. The bright orange of flowering quince:

The magenta-pink and white of Jane magnolia:

The bright yellow of forsythia and the lavender-pink of redbuds:

Below left, the hellebores are fading but still beautiful; and though many of the daffodils have finished blooming, there are still lovelies out there, including the pristine white one below right:

Early spring in my garden is busy, busy, busy. We must get so much accomplished before summer's heat puts a stop to it. Yet what is that worth if we don't appreciate the beauty, if we don't watch the bluebirds and hawks and geese flying overhead, if we fail to hear the songs of nature or to smell the rich perfumes in the air? So I take time to sit with a refreshing drink, and I thank God for the earth He has given us to work upon.