The speed of spring

Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. ~Charlotte Brontë

Time for me these days is measured in garden time – the fits and starts of growth over days and weeks, never the same scene twice. The emergence of hints of green in early spring are transformed within a few weeks . . .

into a full throated chorus of rich textures and layers.

This has been a spring of extremes – days of hot weather, often over 80º F (27ºC) followed by days of bitter cold, with nighttime temperatures dropping to -20º F (-29º C), separated by a week of normal weather, and then repeated over and over throughout March and April. How anything in the garden survived is a mystery to me but also reassures me that nature is resilient beyond reckoning.

Fog arose after a February snowfall melted in sudden warm weather.

By April, the garden had changed from gray and brown to a full spectrum of color.

A violent wind storm in March

had unfortunate consequences for our neighbor’s house. We went to our basement to be safe but were thankfully spared any damage.

There are so many things to be done in the garden this spring. The Garden Conservancy Open Days tour on June 13 looms large on my “to do” list, pushing me to complete unfinished projects and make the garden ready for visitors. Special attention was given to the newer areas featuring native plants.

Each autumn our township collects all the fallen leaves from the neighborhoods and creates large compost mounds that decay for 3 years. They provide a mountain of leaf mold each April, free for the residents. My garden guys had already loaded and spread 3 cubic yards for me but I went back a week later to get another 1/2 yard to cover more of the woodland gardens. It is the perfect mulch for native plants – it improves the soil without triggering excessive growth.

The woodland plants reveled in their new coat of leaf moldwhile colorful blooms filled the sunny parts of the garden.

I was inspired to show the rate of change in the garden this year, which seemed to be captured best through video.

Wishing you a beautiful season of growth and blossoming!

All text, photos, and videos ©2026 Lynn Emberg Purse, except where noted.

The Flower Born Today

The flower that you hold in your hands was born today and already it is as old as you are. ~Antonio Porchia

Tulip 'Apricot Beauty'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.

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I stand in a river of time as the garden streams around me, a constant eddy and flow of events in the moment, yet each dependent on the imagination of the past and the hope of the future. This week, unseasonable heat brought the spring bulb season to a sudden close but also brought on the purple lollipops of Allium aflutanense and the brilliantly colored cloaks of Azaleas and Rhododendrons. Nature never stands still and the ever changing garden carries the gardener with it. Here are a few scenes from the passing spring and the approaching summer; click on any photo to enter the slide viewer. Enjoy! (All photos ©2015 Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved).

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

Time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping, into the future. ~Steve Miller (Fly Like An Eagle)