Late April is a time of year where things start happening in the garden, but slowly. I walk the garden every day and can see small changes – a new leaf, or one bud in scores opening up. I was eager to leave town for a week because I knew the garden would make noticeable progress by the time I came home. When I returned, the night was dark and I couldn’t see. But when the sun rose the next morning, I was not disappointed: the grass is lush and green, the yarrow is filling in, the salvia is blooming, tulips have opened by the mailbox, and the columbine I planted last year finally bloomed. I’m happy to be home again.
Pink columbineTulip and salviaBurgundy columbinePurple columbineSalvia and tulip
I’m waiting for the sun to rise. Outside, the sky is a deep dusky blue. Soon it will brighten to pink, and I’ll be able to see my new little bird bath in the rose bed, and the fresh mulch I spread yesterday out front.
My gardening vacation is underway. I had 15 yards of mulch delivered Friday. I couldn’t start shoveling right away, though — I needed to weed, plant whatever new stuff I could get my hands on this early in the season, and fertilize. Then I could start mulching.
Saturday, as soon as I dropped our daughter at swim practice, I sped away to the nursery to see what perennials they had in stock. I blew my budget, of course. The bowl of my beautiful big birdbath cracked and then fell away in our recent winter storm. Watching birds splash in water is one of my favorite past times, so I had to replace the big bath, it was not optional. And then there’s the new little bird bath, which was too cute for me to pass up. And also, new plants. The nursery often runs out of some of the harder-to-find plants I want if I put them off too long, so of course I had to buy all the stuff on my list right now if they had them in stock. Plus a few others that weren’t on my list. And it turns out the size of the garden now requires two bags of fertilizer, not just one.
I tell myself it’s okay that the garden is more expensive now. The diversity of plants is better than just a giant lawn, right? I’m creating habitat! Birds, bees, butterflies, bunnies – all are welcome here. It’s like contributing to a nature conservancy, except right here in my yard.
I was distracted at work yesterday. I waited for my mulch guy to call, then once he did call, and once he delivered my 15 yards of mulch — one pile in the driveway for the front beds and a second pile at the top of the hill out back for the back beds — I couldn’t stop looking out the window at it, or walking outside to smell it.
Now it’s Saturday, I am off of work for a week, and I’m waiting for the sun to come up so I can get started. I hear birds out there singing in the dark.
My excitement level to go to the nursery is high. I’ve been waiting for months. I can’t wait to see what flowers they’ll have in stock this early in the year that I can go ahead and buy. I have a few spots in the beds that are waiting for their plants before I fertilize and mulch.
Unfortunately, I think I’m going to have to cut down on my grass-killing. My continued expansion of flower beds is starting to get expensive. Between mulch prices going up and me adding another 300 square feet of flower bed last year, my garden budget is pretty much maxed out: I don’t have a lot left over for plants. I spent much of February dividing perennials to stretch what I’ve already got, but I want new flowers too!
I just want to kill a little more grass to round out the new bed so its edges aren’t so sharp, and then I’ll be done, I swear.
Only a few more hours before I can get to the nursery. Writing this got me a few minutes closer.
We are in the middle of a fool’s spring, and I took full advantage of it this weekend. From after breakfast to before dinner yesterday, I had shears, rake, shovel, loppers, wheelbarrow, bungee cords, hose, and bags of dirt scattered all over the yard. I pruned roses, cut back ornamental grasses, raked leaves out of flower beds, moved lavenders, transplanted hydrangea, and kicked poor performers to the curb.
As I worked, I smelled fresh mint in the mint patch. I listened to birds chirp and leaves rustle in a warm breeze. When I pulled away dead debris and raked out dry leaves that have insulated the ground these last 5 months, I found green emerging underneath.
A podcast episode showed up in my feed the other day: Why You Should Snap Pictures of Nature. I started listening while I unloaded the dishwasher in the early morning, and I finished it while I made my lunch. It’s on the Science of Happiness podcast, and in it, the guest talks about her-two week experience noticing nature:
I really like the idea of paying really close attention to what was very ordinary.
– Tejal Rao
She watched the progress of a leaf unfurling; she photographed it every day. “It looked like a, sort of like a leaf burrito.” She continually experienced awe.
Needless to say, I love everything about this: the focus on the ordinary, the awe, the photographing, the leaf burrito. So of course, I want to notice nature, too. Especially now that winter turns to spring, and every day something new is happening if I look closely enough.
After I ate my lunch that day, I went out and saw the crocus and snowdrops I blogged about.
Today, I saw my first bees of the season. In February. I had no idea they came out this early! I guess if there are flowers, there will be bees. As I poked around under the brown leaf litter in a flower bed, I saw new green sedum leaves coming through. I found a volunteer feverfew under the rosemary. And as dumped kitchen scraps in the compost, I saw a dot of purple out of the corner of my eye. The first vinca flower of the season.
The world is coming into color again, slowly slowly.
Bee butts in crocusNew sedum leavesVolunteer feverfewVinca
Today was warm and windy. The dry winter grasses whipped like ponytails out back. When I took the compost out on my lunch break, I carried my camera, too. I thought the snowdrops might have come up, and I was delighted to see that they have.
One crocus has opened as well, despite its greenery being nibbled to the ground.
Butterfly Mind 