Early Spring, 2015

It happens every year, but I greet the arrival of spring with the delight of an infant who has never seen a blossom before. The garden is awakening. I wander along damp mossy paths, smiling at each swelling flower bud and each lime-green leaf that unfurls. The light is gentle, the breeze is energizing, and the air is filled with chirps and chatters and trills and calls. There is a mockingbird in a tree, and his incessant happy song declares the wonders of season. 

Many limbs and branches are still bare, and on a rainy day the land looks as cheerless as any winter day; but not for long, as every morning adds new color to the landscape. Forsythia was late blooming this year, put off by freezes, but at last it opened its cheery yellow bells:

Chaenomeles, or flowering quince, bloomed through the hard freezes and continues to be beautiful:

Corylopsis spicata, called winterhazel, is a plant in the witch hazel family, or Hamamelidaceae. Its clusters of yellow flowers hang on bare branches and glow like little lanterns:Fothergilla is one of my favorite native shrubs. I recently planted several new ones near the base of some river birch trees. This variety is called 'Redneck Nation,' after Fred Nation, the botanist who found it growing in south Alabama. My new shrubs look sparse now, but they will soon grow and be filled with foliage. The fragrant, white bottlebrush blooms are just beginning to open:

My daffodils were a bit disappointing this year. They bloomed just in time to be hit by severe frost, then weeks of rain. They lay low to the ground during most of this time, but bravely stood tall when the sun was shining:

These trilliums grow wild in my woodland garden. The deep maroon petals in the center have not yet opened:

Hepatica nobilis, also called liverwort, is a beautiful woodland wildflower. I planted these next to a path, so I can appreciate its small, delicate blooms:

Another spring wildflower in my woodland garden is Sanguinaria, also called bloodroot. It has taken a long time to become established; the first couple of years I thought it had died! I am glad to see several blooms this year. It is shown on the upper right in this collage of spring bloomers:Clockwise from upper left: Sanguinaria, also called bloodroot; Grape Hyacinths; Pieris japonica, also called andromeda; Camellia 'Taylor's Perfection'; Leucojum aestivum, also called summer snowflake, although it blooms in spring; Magnolia 'Jane.'I am just as pleased with beautiful foliage as I am with flowers. Strawberry begonia and Heucerella 'Alabama Sunrise' are two new additions to my woodland garden: Strawberry begonia is a vigorous ground cover.

Heucerella 'Alabama Sunrise' is a cross between Heuchera and Tierella. Throughout the year, life continues in the decaying crevices of Stump World:

On a fallen log I find a surprisingly beautiful arrangement of lichens, which have flourished in abundant rain:

As day's end approaches, I find these blooms silhouetted against the sky:

The woods still look bare in evening's glow, but tomorrow more buds will open and more color will show. Spring is here!

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.