A greenness grew

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, Jane Eyre

On this first day of May, I look out the window and see green – green! – on the tree branches. Flowers have been blooming since February – snowdrops, crocus, daffodils, tulips – and their color is so welcome.  Yet when the woods light up in delicate green, it feels as if spring is complete.

The ostrich ferns have completely unfurled, refracting light through their intricate fronds

while the sunlight pouring through white daffodil ‘Bella Coola’ turns its petals translucent.

The weather has had several wild swings this spring, hot summer temperatures for days in early spring followed by deep drops into bitter cold, the process repeated again and again. Yet the plants have survived somehow, resilient and beautiful.

Parts of the garden have come fully into bloom – the grape and lemonade bed is always its showiest this time of year.

After years of tolerating our makeshift garden gate built of fence parts, I found a beautifully crafted gate to create a dramatic entrance into the garden.

Green isn’t the only foliage color in the garden now – the red Japanese maples have fully unfurled their leaves

as has the purple smokebush entwined with Clematis ‘Sweet Sugar Blues’.  Our wild violets (Viola sororia) have been blooming for weeks and are now joined by the soft blue and white blossoms of hardy geraniums.

My latest garden video traces the gradual emergence of spring and the light that shines through the garden at this bewitching time of year.

Wherever you are in the world, and in whatever season you find yourself, may you see the light shining through the beautiful things around us.

Garden Dreams

Is there a gardener living who doesn’t dream of what a new garden season can bring? Our long winter months in the American north encourage that dreaming. The sharp changes from warm to frozen and back again inspired me to freeze some hellebore buds in ice to reflect this spring’s crazy weather. The seeds I ordered by Christmas were planted indoors under lights and outdoors in wintersown jugs by early February. Lists of  plants were made and remade, then ordered – they are now arriving almost daily.

The garden slowly evolved from its late winter glow

into early spring bloom

and then into vibrant spring color.

The weeping cherry in the center of the circle garden bloomed early and profusely. As always, it was alive with hungry pollinators looking for a early meal.

Gradually it released its petals as the greens of the garden emerged,

followed by fragrant purple sandcherry blossoms perfuming the air near the deck.

My biggest garden dream this year is to plant several new woodland garden beds with all native plants. For the past three years, I have been systematically removing invasive plants in the woods and plants that are not pollinator friendly in the garden beds. My longterm goal is to have 70% of the garden plants be native (the woods are already 90%). As I increase that percentage each year, more insects and birds take up home here and grace the garden with their presence.

I’ll be tracking my progress this year as part of a collaboration with some YouTube garden friends as we each pursue and document our garden dreams over the year. Here is my first installment of the video series, let me know what you think below in the comments. Happy garden dreams!

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, Jane Eyre

 

A March moment

Our life is March weather, savage and serene in one hour. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Even as I prepare a series of posts about the evolution of the garden, I am drawn into the drama of March weather. This past weekend was gloriously warm and sunny, full of blue skies and singing birds.

The light through last year’s hydrangea blossoms was magical  and the colorful sunset above the bare trees inspiring. But soon the wild winds of March blew in from the west, bending and creaking the bare trees. A day later, the snow began to fall, enormous fluffy flakes that coated everything in a magical layer of white. Never mind that the winter had already expressed itself in snow and ice many times, the effect was charming and worthy of a short video.

The snow melted by mid-afternoon, leaving the spring garden tasks visible once again, awaiting my pruner and loppers and shovel. And so March goes, an unpredictable yet compelling time of the year, promising so much for the months to come.

March is the month of expectation, the things we do not know.~ Emily Dickinson

All photos, video and text ©2022 by Lynn Emberg Purse, All Rights Reserved, except where noted.

Hope is the thing

Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

Angel and I stood out under the almost full moon last night. She was restless, so was I, and the moonlit woods beckoned to us, mysterious and full of the sounds of night creatures awake and moving. I stood and watched the sky while she investigated every rustle and sigh – it was nearly midnight before we returned to the house. We were up early this morning to catch the sun.

Spring is here and the world is growing greener. I’ve been walking the garden every day, starting with the morning sun and ending at dusk and still I wish for more. Angel, at age 15, is a little gimpy, a little slower – we make a fine creaky pair as we circle the garden beds and pause for a closer look at each new flower that appears. 

The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size. ~ Gertrude S. Wister

I finally had to admit that if I wanted to keep my garden, I would have to hire help for the heavy lifting. I called my friend Bill, who built the stone walls in my garden.  

He and Ron have been weeding, pruning, moving shrubs, and mulching garden beds for me for the past few weeks. Finally, the garden that was slowly going to ruin has now re-emerged, its bones intact and eager to grow. 

The bones of the garden

I can take pleasure in the easy stuff of gardening, knowing that I have able and knowledgeable help for all of the tough jobs that I no longer can manage. I designed, dug, planted and maintained this entire garden by myself for twenty years and now wonder how I managed to do that. But being forced to slow down has its pleasures. I’ve long enjoyed the contrast of the white daisy-like flowers of Anemone blanda ‘White Splendour’ against the dusky purple foliage of Euphorbia dulcis‘Chameleon’.

For the first time, I noticed the pink and purple tones of the anemone’s flowers and stems when its petals close for the night, entangled in the purple arms of the euphorbia.

Nearby, creeping sedums (S. rupestre ‘Angelina and S. spurium purpureum) have mingled together in a jazzy gold and burgundy combination.

White forsythia (Abeliophyllum) has pink buds before it opens but I’ve never noticed them before.

White forsythia buds

Delicate as a ballerina’s pink slipper, the buds eventually give way to the sweet-scented white flowers that gives this early blooming shrub its name.

White forsythia flowers

I had the pleasure of watching daffodil ‘Verdant Meadows’ open as a yellow and white flower before it slowly paled over a few days in the spring sun, eventually becoming creamy white.

My sisters-in-law gave me a lungwort (Pulmonaria) from my mother-in-law’s garden after she passed – its first bloom of the season opened this week on her birthday, a lovely synchronicity. 

The weather is mild enough to sleep with the window open; what a joy it is to awaken to the pre-dawn bird chorus. The garden is awake and this gardener has hope that she will be able to tend to it with ease and joy, and revel in nature’s beauty. May you also have hope and beauty in your daily world as spring works it magic.

Cornus mas blossom

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.

~Emily Dickinson

So loud and clear

Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, not the composer. ~Geoffrey B. Charlesworth

Spring has suddenly unfolded herself, transforming from a few bright flowers lost in a brown sea of last year’s leaves to a rich tapestry of green punctuated by full bouquets.colorfulhillside

Green leaves of every size and shape have sprung up, fresh and new.

New flowers open every day, making the morning stroll through the garden a journey of discovery.

gardenarch

The earth laughs in flowers. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

springgl

After a long winter of dreary days and muted colors, the textures and forms of spring make me feel as if I’ve stepped into the land of Oz, from a black and white world into a land of vibrant color.

Near a birdbath set into the ground,greenbirdbath

I found a tiny bird nest – it may have blown out of a tree during yesterday’s wild winds. tinynest

On May 1, two of my compositions will be featured on our university’s weekly A Little Friday Night Music concert series on YouTube. If you are free on Friday, May 1 at 7:30 P.M. (eastern daylight time), please tune in and enjoy the concert performance of selections from Watershed and Arcadian Tone Poems, both pieces inspired by my love of nature. I will be there in the live chat to answer questions and comments during the concert. The video will remain on YouTube thereafter, so you can tune in anytime.

May you enjoy the sights and sounds of spring, wherever you find yourself. Stay safe, stay well, stay strong.

Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter. ~Rachel Carson, Silent Spring