It is April 15th. That means tax time for all of us here in the US. Fortunately, I've already tucked my returns in the mail and can now turn my attentions to the more important things that are happening this April. To whit, my garden.
For the past few weeks, things have been happening. At the end of March my crocuses bloomed. Following on the heels of my lone witch hazel, these yellow and purple flowers signal that Spring is hovering over the land. Then by Easter my daffodils - dozens of them, large and small, from the buttery yellow to the soft creams and pale ruby flowers, have been blooming in great waves (as I was careful to plant early, mid and late bloomers for just that reason). As they naturalize, every season I wonder if I'm not seeing more of them. This year I know for sure there are more.
Also blooming nicely are my three variets of bluebells - English, Spanish and Virginia. Another little blue harbinger of spring are my grape hyacinths (I can't have too many of those - I'm going to have to plant more this fall so I can have great mounds of them next year!).
The andromeda are blooming (my ancient one has a light crop of blossoms this year, as it was heavy with them last year and it doesn't bloom completely each year). The smaller one, with its pale blush pink blossoms in my rock-walled bed is blooming as well. Both old and new shade gardens have lovely Lenten Roses blooming (one in a deep mauve the other nearly purple black). And hostas are peeping up, day lilies and lilies have started sprouting and my bleeding hearts are all above ground.
Rosebushes have leaf buds, as do the clematis, the dogwood, the butterfly bushes and my redbud and crabapple trees. I am waiting with bated breath for one of my favorites - my Bradford Pear trees, which are both covered with blossom buds. I am on vacation and hope that within the next four days - predicted to be sunny and much warmer following yesterday and today when it rained and never climbed above 50 - they will explode into bloom and allow me to wallow in the gentle, delicate beauty that is on display outside my window.
My work so far has been the drudgery sort. Clean-up, pruning dead winter growth, culling the broken pots and cleaning the lawn furniture, as well as laying down (to date) 26 bags of cedar mulch. There's another 60 bags to go, however, in the side and back yards and my back aches just thinking of it. But other, larger chores await for the remainder of this "spring break" clean up vacation. The shed is a nightmare and the "potting bench" area needs a complete overhaul. I have large rose canes to tie up, I have to clean out the compost and utilize all that excellent brown gold in my various pots and the biggest chore of all is taking down 2, 5' high oaks which have a growth that kills them. Handling the loppers, my ladder and then the saw which will take these 2 trees down is a daunting task, should you wonder why I'm not just getting on with it. Tomorrow is the day.
Every morning I wander about, checking pots, trees, looking to see what new stuff is up (this morning noted the wealth of mints
and balms that are mounding up nicely). I have a few die-hard potted rosebushes that have never been planted, and beds to augment and prepare.But more than the work, I'm yearning for the next 4 days to enjoy the warmth of Spring - that great warm that is not too hot, and if you leave the sunshine you find it is still a bit chilly - but it shines on your face, warms your aching joints and feeds your soul with a warmth and beauty that I've missed all winter long.
I'll be working hard for the next four days but I'm already pleased with my first four days' efforts in the front yard. Everything is neat and clean, newly mulched, pruned and I have 2 bright pink plastic Adirondack chairs alongside a barren white plastic fence that my new neighbors put up - in lieu of the 50 year old everygreen hedge which they ripped out last fall. I've never had to deal with this barren expanse and don't know, exactly, what the difference in sun will be (the hedge was 20 feet tall and the fence is 6) so for now it will be a little sitting area, over which my feathery light green elderberry will arch, making it a bit more secluded and nicely shaded.
And when I've finished my daily tasks for the next four days (I usually start around 8 am and wrap up around 12 or 1 to take advantage of the best parts of the afternoon to be lazy and put the "vacation" in my vacation - especially as it is my first in 5 months), well, that's when I'll relax, have a cold beer, make some great food and work on my writing.
Because my garden is not just my garden. It isn't there just for beauty and the rewards of my herbs and vegetables. It is there to be enjoyed as an oasis, a respite from the insanity of daily commuting and working - indoors all day every day. When I come home from work, I can sit in one of my many chairs - nestled in the nook of the cork bush beneath the sycamore; in one of the chairs inside my
picket fence over which arches my Souvenier de la Malmaison roses, perhaps in a pink chair beneath the Bradford pear and the elderberry, or underneath the shade of my 40 year old pair of yew trees (they nestle side by side like lovers). If not in one of those spots, then inside my lattice-fenced in garden room surrounded by rosebushes and pots newly filled with humus and greens seeds, or in my old garden room beneath the maroon redbud tree. And if the sun is setting and I'm feeling the need to warm weary bones? Then I can settle in on the wrought-iron bench that looks West, and watch as the glow of day becomes the cool hue of the night sky.
And it is when I unwind, relax, and become one with nature - breath in the cool air, feel the wind upon my face, and look around atthe fruits of my labors - than I can become calm and contemplative and allow my creative side free reign.
You'd be surprised just how inspiring my garden can be.
