Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment. ~Ellis Peters
A week of sun and rain has changed everything. The garden grows greener by the minute, more flowers are blooming each day. The small islands of early flowers and foliage are growing larger and starting to connect throughout the garden. It looks and smells like spring. The wild cherries and amelanchier are blooming throughout the woods with clumps of summer snowflakes blooming beneath. (Click on any photo in these mosaics to see a full size image)
The flower that you hold in your hands was born today and already it is as old as you are. ~Antonio Porchia
Each day as I walk through my garden, I see the culmination of work that I did last year, or ten years ago. I also see what is to come, tomorrow, next week, next month. Gardeners are time travelers of a sort. This spring, I am reaping the rewards of having the paths redone last summer. To tread on firm gravel instead of sinking up to my ankles in muck as I moved through the garden in April brought to mind the last year’s path project and my hopes for the garden this season. Every tulip and daffodil that bloomed this spring arose from the bending and digging last October when I planted a thousand bulbs – a vision of floral extravaganza played through in my mind as the autumn leaves fell golden to the ground. Now as I trim the fading blooms from each spring flower, I notice the burgeoning growth of roses and daylilies to come, and anticipate the floral fireworks of June and July in my imagination.
There is no “End” to be written, neither can you, like an architect, engrave in stone the day the garden was finished. A painter can frame his picture, a composer can notate his coda, but a garden is always on the move. ~Mirabel Osler
I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright. ~ Millard Kaufman
The onslaught of the freeze thaw cycle is upon us. We have shifted from bitter cold and heavy snow to balmy sunny days twice in the past four weeks. This morning, in the midst of a short lived thaw, I discovered snow drops blooming and hellebores in full bud. Signs of spring are everywhere, from the green snouts of daffodils poking into the world to buds swelling on the cherry tree. A promise of what is to come.