Pinkish

The dogwoods have gone from bud to flower in just three days, so I decided I will go from photo to manipulation in just 7 hours!

Original with some sharpening and lighting work.

A New Gentleness on the Land

Spring is tender and pastel. We respond as if we are seeing a newborn child or a miracle. We may dance in the fields but with light-footedness so as to not crush the new blooming violets or frighten the waking fairies. We smooth our joy with gentle giggles and with restrained if open-mouthed glances. Deep sighs and soft smiles are traditional as well.

Yesterday Back in the Saddle

There are many ways to tell we are just over 26 days from the turn into spring as I write this post. This past morning was cool but not cold. I noticed this as I went outside in my stocking feet to take the photo below.  The sun was pushing these clouds ahead of its golden warmth.

We had a high of 56F by mid-day.  Rain is, of course, predicted as this warm air moving in meets the colder air.  I rushed to put on gardening clothes and spent several hours cutting away the dried stalks of perennials and pruning back the smaller shrubs.  I pulled dead annuals such as last summer's zinnias and saved the roots for this summer's class with children about root structure and size.  I took a hoe to the small annual cut flower bed and had to remove 80% of the chickweed that carpets the entire bed in lime green.  There were dozens of small larkspur plants from last year's seeds fighting for space with their ferny leaves.  I will have to go back in a week or so and hand pull those chickweeds in between.  I was ruthless in removing the black eyed Susan as they grow everywhere in other beds.  

While weeding near the hellebores I noticed that the sapsucker had braceleted the sugar maple's trunk sucking up the returning sugars.  I made a note to try and hide somewhere to get a photo. 

By noon the storm was moving in from across the river, and I was tired.

 
I had not I finished 50% of what I had hoped to complete but two and half hours of work was the best type of exercise I had had all winter.  I was glad to see the disturbed ground worms as I pulled up the excess of fennel plants.  I worked to the rhythm of the woodpeckers drumming in the tulip trees.  The only thing missing was the smell of earth, maybe not warm enough yet?  I did not rake the leaves and detritus as we usually still have ground freezes ahead of us.

Just Last Spring

Photo taken last April 2014.

Almost everyone waits eagerly for spring unless you are too young for that sudden pastel warmth of a spring morning with birdsong to have made an impression on your memory.  Eventually spring imprints on us all,  and we cannot drink enough of it into our soul to satiate our emptiness drained by tolerating a long, gray and white winter.

Spring taps us on the shoulder and immediately gets our attention, gets our full-eyed study.  We stop in our tracks dropping that project, that book, that conversation and inhale the fragrant air of earth and blossom. We remember all those firsts; first walk, first bike ride, first poem, first kiss, first love, and even first bee sting!  It has a power that nothing else seems to possess reminding us to live in the moment.   We can pretend that we are young and beautiful and still have lots of memories to make for just a short while.  We can put purpose on the shelf and pick up pleasure.

We see things as if almost for the first time.  Is it that crystal crisp light that bathes every nook and corner?  We are not just remembering but actually being in that moment.  Our skin is sensitive to the breeze, our eyes are sensitive to the lime colors of baby leaves, our nose recognizes the rich brown smell of earth after the rain, and even our ears hear a different bird song, one that is more joyful and full of hope and amorous adventures.  It as if we have yet to begin to experience our own life.  We are excited.

We elders push to the back of our minds the question of how many springs are yet ahead for us as we plant something, paint something, photograph something, kiss something and start living all over again.

Boing!

What is spring without flowers!!??

I am THE One! Lookie Me!

Perhaps it has something to do with how I live my life or sing (hum) my songs or clean my house or cook my food or grow my flowers.  Living here sometimes makes me think I am in the Alfred Hitchcock movie, The Birds.  Last year the male cardinal spent a good part of his mornings (early) trying to get into the house.  Tapping at the windows and smearing green caterpillar guts all up and down my windows as a bribe...perhaps you will remember this post on my other blog?  It was as if he was in fighting mode against his reflection but there was some question on my part about why he was bringing me food...?

Well this spring I am getting another regular visitor.  The tapping in the mornings  (and sometimes throughout the day) is gentler but quite regular on my deck windows and around the house at the front windows.  There is no smeary food on the windows thus far, just bird spit!  At first I thought this female bluebird was just a little twitter-pated (a Walt Disney-Bambi term) and had gotten lost behind the flower pot after flying at the window.  I had watched her flitting and flirting like an aerial break-dancer with her mate high in the trees in my back yard for several afternoons prior to this.

"There has got to be an open window here somewhere!"

She was not cowering beneath this dianthus plant as if she had seen a hawk, but was looking around as if she was 'window-shopping' if you will pardon the necessary pun.  I quickly got my camera and even did a video or two which I may find time to post someday.

(I hear you knocking, but you can't come in...)

She was not camera shy but landed on the door handle and then proceded to continue to knock at the window...see the bird spit?  I was a little intimidated by this intense stare I was getting.  But her stare toward me was nothing compared to her mate's slightly panicked look at her odd behavior.  The weather was turning colder and started to rain on this day and he pretended he did not know her as he flew off to shelter in the high trees.

"I will never understand that female!"

"Hey!  Open the door! It's raining out here!"

She hung in there persistently for a while longer tapping at the window as the rain started.  Was she waiting patiently for me to open the door and let her in?  Then why did she fly away when I did?  I guess I will never really understand birds in the spring.

Are You Looking Up? Down?

In the spring on the East Coast everyone goes crazy for cherry blossoms.  We are close to the famous DC Cherry Blossom Festival of 1,000,s of blooming trees which we share with Japan and which this year has much more meaning to us all.  Many neighborhoods are also filled with pink confetti swirling in the trees that line the streets at the end of March and beginning of April.  Yes, it is breathtaking and much like the feeling you get when you see that 14-year-old gal toss her hair as she turns into a lovely young woman.  Her hair has that shine and her eyes twinkle with future mystery.  It is all hold-your-breath gentle beauty.

Photographers are going crazy with the fresh and very temporary loveliness.  It is all clean and delicate, and oh, so ephemeral.  Blink and the season is gone and street sweepers are pushing pink confetti blossoms along the street gutters with abandon at the end of this party as summer taps its impatient foot waiting in the background.  Shrug your shoulders and the wind shows lime green fluttering leaves above instead of pink bouquets.
While I have only wild cherry trees with limited bloom, here are some spring photos from the other trees in 'my' woods.

I call these 'gutter stuffers.'

This looks like there was a lovely party last night.  Sorry I missed it.

Wild persimmon that blooms at the river's edge.  White loveliness.  Remember the snow frosting on top?

Once Again

Every year my amaryllis never fail to reward me with bright, exotic beauty. This year I took off on travel during the time I was supposed to retrieve them from their dark place in the basement.  When I pulled them out and planted them in fresh potting soil and then tucked them close to the sunny window...this is what they looked like, huge white worms.  They were not going to wait for me and had already begun to stretch their necks in those black bags where they rest in that dark prison each winter.  Since their imprisonment was only temporary, I was careful not to snap their pale necks.

A few weeks later this was my reward.  They always remind me of baleen whales in their shape,  either that or fat opera singers that smile.

Maybe in another post I will show them in full bloom, but I actually enjoy this 'pre-pubescent' time just as much.

(In case you cannot tell...blogger is giving me fits with font styles and sizes today!)

Days of Potential Blue

The breeze across my yard the day I am writing this post is a cool blue giving me goosebumps on my bare arms.  I wander peaking at each and every plant trying to decode its message long before the blue blossoms open wide blowing me away with their shades of azure, teal, cobalt, grape, gentian...  Blue is peace and sighs.  Blue is new beginnings and freshness.  Blue is the color where the ocean meets the blue of the horizon and where the sky kisses the ocean's surface and promises the potential of new vistas and new days and new growth.

Even the pretty bluebirds have potential new blue color to add to the garden this summer.  They picked the most practical birdhouse this year.  (Last year there was some discussion about where they would take up residence, if you recall.)  No blue roof or twining flowers to draw curious predators this time.  Just the bigger house facing away from the prevailing winds.  I am excited to greet them and welcome their blueness.

Blue usually means sadness or coldness, but in my yard it means potential for wowness!

A Clue

I did not do any tweaking.  When Mother Nature provides you with an exquisite sunset, you accept the gift with modesty and thankfulness.  All I did was reduce the huge size in which I took the photo.  This type of sunset portends only better days.  Click on the photo and be thankful for what you have today.

Before Dawn

Early morning, before the sun shows its face, the clearest sound is the chirp of distant tree frogs up in the trees and down near the river there is the other sound of the steady drip of leftover raindrops sliding from the leaves of the trees to the ground. The drops hit with a popping sound and if there is a small breeze the pops fall on top of one another in a crazy chase. The full moon sits smiling in the black western sky like half a peach, glowing with the promise of warm spring. The air, although comfortably cool, is still damp from the many days of heavy rain. It smells laundry clean. Soon birdsong and boatsong will thrust their energy into the silence. But for this very brief time all is quiet except for the distant and short tweet of frogs and the rhythmic jazz of drip-drops all around me.

Drum Roll, Please

Last Tuesday, May 5, I was heading out to the vegetable garden to weed. It has been raining every day (and night) since we returned and I began to feel that rain would never stop so that I could weed!

First there was the bed (photo above) with broccoli (far row) kohlrabi (closer row) and the bok choi (closest in the photo) which had bolted with lovely yellow flowers. Lots of little weeds hiding in the shade of these big green leaves.

Then I turned to the first of the strawberry beds and tried not to think how many blossoms had already set and how busy I was going to be in the coming weeks.


Now, for the DRUM ROLL, please. The biggest surprise was finding the two heritage tomato plants we had ordered from Burpee already showing off their stuff. They were only about 4 inches when we planted them before our trip. Look...there are blossoms. Even the regular tomato only 6 inches high in another bed and grown from seed is producing a blossom which you can barely see in the center of the picture below! With all this rain, I will be truly surprised if they set. But tomato blossoms in May...I have never seen that!

It has sprung!

Time is such a moving thing. I chased early summer on to Hilton Head Island and returned to find that spring had almost left us and summer was well on its way to my house. Just compare the photo of the trees above with the one in the prior post which I took the day before we left!

One of my newly planted roses is now sending out lovely pink blooms.

I have never had rhododendrons at my prior homes and this year I added two new plants.


This rhodo above is from last year and it blooming so well this year without little deer croppings. It starts as a pale peach color and fades into deep pink.

The weeding also sprung forward. Guess the bird photos from vacation will have to wait.

Spring Storm

Spring storm. It is like first love. So candy-apple sweet and flawless. The simplest of beauty and the purest of color. Its only design is to reproduce and grow new beauty. Like first love it is overwhelming and even breathing requires careful deliberation. (Can this be for me? Is it true?) There is no warmth in her whisper, only the chill of adventure as she hurtles forward with summer chasing close behind. And yet she brings crystal songs and new life and we want to hang on to her forever. She knows her stay is short and with an angelic smile she drifts on leaving us with only the exotic and pleasurable memory of the fragrance of virgin blossoms.

Spring News

(I cannot for the life of me understand why blogger loads this strawberry plant photo sideways...maybe too much blog beer today?)


Some gardeners are proud of their green thumbs. You will recall last spring I put up a small boat-load of strawberries in the freezer (I think there are still a few pints left to thaw and use), and it looks like once again this year I will be wearing a red thumb during the month of May. These two beds of strawberry plants will eventually be moved outside under the blackberry bushes, but this year we put them in the raised bed as a holding area and they really, really,... I mean really liked it.

The dogwood purchased by hubby last spring is in all its pink glory and loves its location in one of the flower beds as well.

Yet the wild white dogwoods around the yard are just as lovely and we have managed to save several from the wild roses and climbing vines and they have rewarded our efforts with more blossoms. Doesn't this tree photo make you want to grab a book and sit on the grass in the shade and read?

Hubby also had to purchase a cherry tree this spring. We will probably not see one single red orb from this little tree. My guess is that the birds will divest us of any cherries just the day or two before they are completely ripe.


My final note is on the families of birds that share our yard. The blue bird house now has five eggs inside. She may lay more, be we cannot chance opening the wall again to look inside. The chickadee house above is still being leased although I do question her neatness! ( I am sure it says somewhere in the lease that you cannot hang things from the front door!)