Easter Sunday

The sun is nearly gone now, this cold and very blustery Easter Sunday.  Cold it may be (the temperature tonight is forecast for the low 20's and I fear for my beautiful pink magnolia buds), but spring really is bursting out all over.   Seemingly overnight the hyacinths and daffodils have emerged and flowered perfectly.  To be honest, some of my newest hyacinths look as if they bulked up on steroids over the winter - so fat and clublike, you could hurt someone with them! The sunny daffs are such a welcome sight, and now the specialty narcissus are ready to open up.  The minor bulbs have nearly faded, but the rush to fill in their spots proceeds at a breakneck pace.  Strangely, my forsythia has yet to make an appearance - but that's quibbling. My garden is like an Easter basket today - full of color, light and texture.  All that's missing is chocolate!

Of Things Indoors

As beautiful a day as it was outdoors, my focus necessarily had to be indoors today.  Among my tasks was getting vegetable seeds started, at which I spent a pleasurable afternoon.  Peppers, tomatoes, melons and sorrel (new for me this year; I saw a recipe for sorrel soup that intrigued me) now grace the top tiers of the benches in my little conservatory.  My hope is that while I'm away, they'll spring forth and manage to survive in their plastic-domed prison until I return to liberate them.  It took longer than I expected, mainly because I was frequently distracted by our two cats, Emerson and Calypso.  It seems that an annoyingly persistent robin has determined to build a nest on top of one of our living room windows, and the cats spent long stretches of the day attentively watching the bird's comings and goings.  Sometimes gazing upward out the window in rapt attention, sometimes crouching in attack mode, they wanted to get that birdie in the worst way - and their frustration provided us with some good laughs. When I finally finished up in the late afternoon, I couldn't resist any more - I had to get outside. The arrival of the paper furnished me with a good excuse, so before I went out to the box I took a quick tour of inspection around the yard.  As the crocus and striped squill are fading, the Lenten roses and earliest narcissus are taking their places - and of course the violets just keep coming on.  I was less pleased to see that the newly seeded beds of sweet peas, peas and lettuce are getting dry and crusted, and less pleased still to learn that no rain is expected for at least the next week.  And I won't be here to water.  Guess I should have stayed indoors.......

The Catnip Day

Today was one of those incredibly perfect early spring days; an achingly clear blue sky with temperatures in the mid-50's.  From earliest childhood, being outdoors on a day such as this has been like rolling in catnip for a cat - it simply has to be done.  It's irresistible.  And while I'm done for the next couple weeks with working outside (I'll be traveling), I could no more stay in than fly to the moon.  So out I went.

This morning, I prowled around the yard.  I checked on everyone that was coming up; I looked for any possible plant material that could be used in an arrangement I'm doing for a party this weekend.  Sometimes I simply stood, looking up into the blue, feeling just plain damn good. However, nothing lasts, and in time I had to go in and have lunch before driving to an appointment some 20 miles away.  I was overjoyed to discover when I came out that it had gotten warmer yet, and since I had our sporty little Volkswagen GTI ("arrest me" red and turbocharged to boot, thank you very much) I decided to meander home via the back roads.  It wasn't quite as good as being out digging in a flower bed - but it didn't suck!  And seeing all the daffodils bursting out in grass as green as any emerald as I wound my way homeward just capped off a perfect spring day.  A day in which everything good seems possible, as you contemplate the long, warm months ahead, knowing that there's so much more to come.  In short - a catnip day.

Doing the Right Thing

Today's mail seemed unremarkable at first: ads, catalogs, the usual suspects.  One thing that caught my eye was an offer from a grower in Michigan.  I received this because I'm a member of the Garden Writers of America, and this grower is making us a special offer.  They've partnered with an Israeli herb and vegetable specialist to create a gourmet cherry tomato that can either be eaten out of hand or dried very easily for a sweet yet nutritious snack.  Yet it wasn't the tomato that really attracted my attention - it was the statement that "...starter plants....can be sold only to growers servicing independent garden centers and retailers".  And (drum roll, please), they very explicitly stated that it will not be sold to discount and "big box" retailers.  Well, hot damn and hallelujah!!!!  Finally, someone is trying to give our all-important small growers, nurseries and garden centers a richly deserved break from the stifling effects of the big boxers.  I can't tell you how happy I was to read that.  So many wonderful small garden centers and nurseries around the country (and even some larger, legendary growers as well) have folded over the last decade because they just couldn't compete financially with a Lowe's or a Wal-Fart every 5 miles.  Which means that plantaholics like myself are left with fewer and fewer options for quality material, to say nothing of the loss of plant diversity in general. Perhaps the pendulum is finally beginning to swing back in the direction of sanity and the greater good - perhaps we're finally beginning to realize that "cheaper" often comes with hidden costs...... 

The Time of the Violets Has Come

Working outside yesterday (before winter rears its ugly head yet again!)  I discovered that one of my favorite spring days had arrived - the violets are out!   Not, of course, the long-stemmed blue violets; those will be along by the end of the month.  No, these are the tiny sweet violets, buried in the grass, and putting dabs of color in the flower beds in shades of pink, white and dark and light purple.  They aren't much use for bouquets since the stems are so short, but the charm is in their sweet, distinct violet scent.  A handful of these little beauties gives the loveliest fragrance imaginable, and sometimes I pick a small bunch just for the purpose of giving my nose a treat. Even in an economy that sucks canal water, it's nice to know that some pleasures are still absolutely free.

Houseplant Surprise

Last week I was puttering about in my little conservatory watering everyone, when I tipped the watering can down over my sanseveria plant and saw an astonishing sight.  A flower stalk about a foot or so high was emerging at the bottom of the clump!  This was a revelation to me, for I am primarily a perennial/outdoor gardener, and I readily confess to a certain level of ignorance when it comes to houseplants.  In fact, I only have the sanseveria for sentimental reasons; the original plant was in a dish garden from my mother's funeral.  The nice thing about this plant is that it's really low maintenance, which suits me just fine.  However, not knowing much about it, I had no idea that it could flower.  And a lovely flower it was, too - whorls of lime green flowers all the way up the stalk, and with a light, sweet scent of freesia.  I get the feeling that indoors, this flowering might be a one-off and I'll never see it again.  And that's OK - the important part was being reminded that no matter how old you are or how long you've been gardening, there's always something new to learn.  Always.

The REAL First Day of Spring

Somehow, I can never quite accept the date of the vernal equinox as the official first day of spring. This is probably because, living in upstate NY, the weather generally bounces all around the dial until the end of May.  We have a nasty tendency to go straight from 38 degrees and snow flurries to 80 degrees in a matter of days, thus eliminating the need for spring weather. (I do not exaggerate - I can remember one Mother's Day when we had about 6" of snow on the ground! That was a particularly trying event, because I had called my mom in Ohio, and she chirped on about how it was 70 degrees, and she had her windows open, etc., etc.  All this as I glumly watched snowflakes sift down and cover what should have been flowers.  We were not amused.) Still, ever the optimist, I celebrate the first day of spring on April 1.  Once the calendar says April, I can allow myself to believe that spring really is on the way.   After all, you can always rely on the winter aconites, the snowdrops and glory-of-the-snows no matter what the weather conditions. And if you're patient enough, suddenly the crocus and early daffodils appear.  Then comes the happy day when I look down and see my tiny sweet violets in the beds, and I know there's no stopping it - spring is here, baby!  In your face, winter!