In eastern lands they talk of flowers,
and tell in a garland their loves and cares.
James Gates Percival
Snuggled under a down duvet and lingering just a bit longer this Saturday, I listen to the birds chirping outside the window. The faint sound of a bawling calf off in the distance echoes through the morning. Could that be coffee?
Oh yes, My Hero, who has been up for a while now, and no doubt looking out the window enjoying the view, knows how to get me out of bed in the morning. I throw back the duvet and the chill of the air holds that first sign of the real spring. The woodstove is not going. That beautiful warm day yesterday had lulled us into a false sense of comfort.
Oh yes, yesterday my hands were buried in the dirt. A flower bed that has been neglected and ignored since those first snowfalls came. The rake slid over the remnants of dead grass and dead sedum branches. The new sprouts of I would like to say flowers and plants pushed through the cold dirt. I would like to say flowers and plants, but honestly at that stage of the season I really had no idea. You see when our daughter had her wedding here I had planted all kinds of perennials.
Well, it appears since I am not an awesome or knowledgeable gardener like I had always hoped to be, it has been brought to my attention that some of those plants were bi-perennials. Last year most of my plants had not emerged from that cold wet ground. I assumed I had killed them.
The thistle plants, oh yes I know them, I had to pull on gloves and pull and dig, they were tough little guys to extract. The sweet smell of lavender perked my senses and I smiled. I jumped back out of the garden. I had no idea where that smell was coming from. Was I stepping on them? There was nothing under foot except more thistle and some emerging buds, I did hope they were weeds but who really knows.
That was yesterday and the day did not end there. It seems the warmth and beauty of a for real spring day will get you into all kinds of trouble. It will make you think all things are possible and you will work and work without thinking about the next day when you have to get up.
You see, after the garden was emptied of I do hope weeds and winter debris I had a crazy idea jump into my head. After washing and washing the dirt from under my fingernails I was pumped to accomplish more on this beautiful spring day. All the windows of the house were opened to let the fresh air in. I jumped into the clothes closets. That is the first step if you have grand ideas of painting bedrooms and such. See what I mean it never stopped.
Now with a car full of donations, hands still stained with dirt, and a room empty of clothes and now waiting for paint swatches to be taped to the walls in anticipation I jump out of bed. Ouch, it seems that spring hurts. Maybe I did jump a little too hard into spring. “Pace yourself” would have been some good advice. I probably would not have listened.
This Saturday morning I smile while sipping coffee and layered in fleece sitting at the window where the birds sing, calves bawl and my mind runs through a list of spring things to accomplish. Thoughts of a mix of pretty weeds and flowers float in my head because there is no use kidding myself. My idea of garden pretty always ends up a bit different than most, and I am OK with that.