Ebb Tide Rose
Spring has come and I wish to be out in it. I do like the winter with its white solitude, however, spring to me is that moment where the world catches its breath like a swimmer surfacing or a butterfly freed from a drab cocoon. Times of transitions from one state of being to another. Spring, like Fall, is the time between times. Nature has one foot in sea and one on shore and wonders what is to come.
My Tulips have pushed there first tender shoots up and one brave Johny-jump-up actually bloomed this last week. I thought about picking and pressing it, but then I thought I would leave the brave little thing alone to have a nice full life...even if it was a cold one. I want to clear out the detritus and debris, clip and prune and feed, but I can only cheer my little plants on for yet a little while. Winter bits and snarls still.
I'm excited to see what comes up where. I spent a bit of time last fall scoopling about in the soil putting down bulbs all over the place. I still have some that I need to "force" to enjoy and the growing stack of nursery catalogs beckons to be thumbed through. I am determined to put in the rose garden even if we move in the next couple of years. There are a couple of new roses I want - the deep purple and the green mini and, of course, the ever elusive Ink Spot I can't seem to get my hands on. Sun Flowers and Hollyhocks will be put in this year on the south side, maybe even some Four O'clocks. I want plants all around me like a shield.
I've grown to love plants more than people. Plants make no pretense about what they are about. Grow, bloom into beauty and move on in silence, but they enjoy your company in the meantime. People on the other hand...well they are not very plant like at all; much to their shame. You can learn a lot about being a good soul by listening to plants. I hope that spring comes to you in all its many splendors and whispers to you in the evening light about how to breath and how to grow and how to make the world beautiful.
Snowdrops
Peruvian Daffodil.
