81. Spring Garden, May 6, 2016

It is a pleasure to be in the garden — especially in the spring when it yields its crop of anticipation.

After a week or so of uncharacteristic warmth we have now had uncharacteristic coolness, (highs in the low 50’s instead of the low 60’s). But today I finally got my hands dirty — mostly weeding, fertilizing and watering. The soil is still cold. It seems to be saying, “You’ve got to be kidding.” But I am not.

[Digression: Though the sun is still low in our northern sky, and hence less than intense, already the days are stretching (like we gardeners ourselves). Sunrise this morning was at 5:14; sunset will be at 7:45 — so we already have approximately fourteen and a half hours of daylight. Eat your heart out, San Diego; you only have about thirteen hours and forty minutes — but, of course, your sun actually shines!]

I re-potted my pansies a week or so ago; moved them from their cramped flats into more spacious 4x4 pots filled with pure compost. They are thriving: eager, (like puppies wanting to frolic), to get into the ground. I expect to indulge their wishes in another week.

I have a great composter, perhaps four bushels capacity or so, that has been working all winter. In about month I will empty it into a plastic garbage can to further “cure”. Last fall’s spent plants from the garden have been “seasoning” all winter in a compost cage I built for that purpose. Its contents will soon be emptied into the composter and stirred regularly throughout the summer until they are a perfect recipe for fecundity — like a high school prom.

Meanwhile, just weeding (and mentally rearranging) is a pleasure.

My annuals are coming up strong — though they are in the wrong places due to last year’s rebuilding of the retaining walls. Part of this year’s challenge/fun will be getting them into the right spots.

I already know where my peonies belong, but all the gardening books tell me it is best to transplant them in the fall. (I know because I consulted several hoping to find one that would give me a green light.) They and I will make it through the summer; patience until the fall…

The daffodils and narcissus are creatures of the spring, harbingers of what is surely to come — and a source of bouquets for friends.

Buds on my Rhododendrons and Azaleas (a type of Rhododendron) are bursting –

even though the former are still more than a month away from bloom.

The forsythia is a bit timid, but making an effort nonetheless.

The huckleberry in my “front yard”, by the Bay are waxing

(Their chaotic image would make a good, Jackson Pollock, jigsaw puzzle.)

And here come the blue berries, also part of my “front yard”.

This is catalog time. I have been marking “must have’s” in my Surry Gardens catalog. I hope to make my first trip to their nursery soon. Among other things I am looking for two Clematises (not Clematii) to replace some spent climbing roses I have extracted.

My rhubarb is looking frisky.

I will soon have enough to bake a (spring ritual) pie.

And the hosta are emerging — still purple from the cold — looking almost obscene with anticipation.

My wisteria vine is late, as usual, but the climbing viburnum is already leafing out — intense green tea cups on an upward-rambling vine.

These emerging hollyhocks will soon be taller than I…

… and my favorite, (Don’t tell the day lilies.), Monkshood is preparing to showoff once more in the late summer.

I leave you with this modest periwinkle, the flower not the snail. (The snails reside about 100 yards away.) This periwinkle is early, a bit confused as to where the party is, but ready to boogie nonetheless.

Gardens represent many things: exercise, neighborliness, sometimes vegetables, but for me they are primarily a source of beauty. It is the opposite of “paint by the numbers”. Here, I sketch the design; nature fills in the colors.

I am reminded of the nursery rhyme:

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells, and cockle shells,

And pretty maids all in a row.

My version is:

Stevie, Stevie, rarely peevy,

How does your garden grow?

With hollyhocks and blue berries,

And pansies all in a row.

I hope, like me, you soon have an excuse to have dirty fingernails.