Marching Along

I always say you can't trust March. We've had some incredibly warm weather, days when even I was outside in short sleeves. Kevin raked out all the gardens and the backyard was drying up admirably. And then, of course, we got some more snow. And this morning, it's a disgusting 10 degrees out. These are the cold snaps that really frost my tulips --- literally. But it can't last and I know that we'll have warmer weather soon. We're seeing tulips, daffodils, narcissus, and have six or eight crocuses in bloom. Oliver likes to get down on his knees and count them ... and so do I. It's a count-up to spring. A countdown to summer.

Hello Tulips!

Our first spring bulbs have made an appearance. We've had  an unusually warm spring with very little snow and so the tulips and crocuses in the front gardens poked their heads up a couple of weeks ago. I love to check their progress every day, once on my way to work and again when I get home. I can't really describe the feeling of happy encouragement I get from the sight of these green shoots. It's a sign that --- no matter how cold and dreary or how wet and muddy or how short the days --- spring is coming. And there's no stopping it. This year, Oliver is old enough to understand what I'm showing him and he's learning to recognize the growing plants. "Hello Tulips!" he likes to call out and I laugh out loud because his joy so closely mirrors my own.

Whatever Gets You Through The Night

January might seem like an odd month to be thinking about gardening, but the thought of all those bulbs sleeping under their cold white blankets and what they'll look like when spring comes helps to get me through these long, dark days.

The first seed catalog came in the mail this month and it seemed like a sign from the gods. So, despite the foot of snow that was recently dumped on us, and despite the fact that the weatherman keeps saying things like "arctic blast," "cyclonic airflow," and "wintry conditions," I know there's hope.

In January I like to think of our gardens as opera singers on winter holiday. They spend all summer on glorious display and take the winter to rest and recuperate. I can't imagine any joy in being frozen and cold, so I prefer to think that they're in some humid climate somewhere, with the sun shining and the bees buzzing.

Wish you were here.