Blog # 6 Colors of Spring

As a kid always hated spring. It was a rainy messy time.  Going out was a perpetual step into the soggy ground and puddles of the earth.  Grey twigs on the trees, tan, thatchy grass.  Still not warm enough to go without a coat.  My grandmother yelling that I should put a hat on. Coming home muddy and dirty and feeling like a criminal for it.  School seemed like it would never end.  It was my time to be disgruntled.

I look at spring a little differently now.  Yes, the browns and tans and grays are still there. The temperature is still chilly but I am less impatient.  I am happy to wear a sweat shirt and galoshes ("that splishes and sploshes") and check out the multitudes of changes that happen day by day. Little things give me a thrill.  Patience is not for the very young.  They want all things now, they are growing like asparagus that springs up over night.  I am more like some cautious old walnut tree (the last to leaf and the first to loose those leaves) that takes its time, feels the air, watches the birds, seeks the sunshine and slowly but surely puts out tiny budletts that turn from brown, to pink, to green.  I am the pink haze in the treetops against the sometimes blue, sometimes gray sky that gives hope that spring is doing its job and nature is awakening.

As I pick up sticks and twigs for my tinder pile I examine little jewels in my garden and wonder if I should uncover them yet.  The weather can be treacherous at this time of year and I opt to keep their nestled glory intact. No need to share with everyone yet. I like secrets. Crocuses, purple, yellow and white are showing their vibrant intention of announcing spring.  Sweet hardy things that are disappointingly tiny but minuscule jewel-toned marvels.  They must be delicious for I have planted many and only the strong survive. Or maybe the strong fat bulbs are the sweetest and easiest to find and the raccoons, squirrels or skunks munch on them and leave the little ones to peep out (they will get them next year when they are bigger). No wonder my crocus are puny.

The galanthus, otherwise known as snowdrops, are blooming as well.  Funny to think that they are related to the enormous amaryllis of Christmas time fame. Tiny, white, little droopy flowers that face downwards as if longing to go back under the ground where it is relatively warm and comfy. Alongside them are the beautiful fragrant and deadly lily of the valley.  Odd to think that something so delicate and alluring could be so poisonous. They have multiplied over the years and from what I have observed, seems like wild animals and I have different ideas of what smells wonderful.  Consequently, the lily of the valley remain intact.

The daffy down dillies are coming in herds.  They are brave but foolish.  I keep thinking I should spread some bulb food on them and then they will look like the catalogues that flourish in my mailbox in the spring.  In the catalogues the are huge and crowded and make a fair field of yellow heads that cannot help but delight the eye .  In my avenue of daffodils they are short and stubby and never all bloom at the same time.  Its pretty.  Its cute, they are trying. But it's sort of pitiful at the same time.  I would have an abundance,  they give me a sprinkling.

Do I sound like I am whining?  Forgive me if I do or am.  I appreciate their efforts and am happy to watch their progress.  They herald so many other good things to come. Tulips and hyacinths, balloon flowers and daisies. sedum with their berry-like beads of leaves and hostas with their wine red spears ready to do battle with the elements. Lillies and lilacs and rhododendron and a dogwood or two , if the deer have allowed. Spring is tantalizing and I guess we all feel like kids when we get our first taste of its warm kisses.