Gardening a Library on the Hill

A middle-age, middle-class, midlling eccentric woman on gardening, libraries, crafts, books, liberal Episcopalian dilemmas, Chestnut Hill and who knows what may take my fancy.

Friday, March 31, 2006

The Succession of Spring

Ahhh, finaly getting a bloom on a Lenten rose planted as a seedling 3 years ago. The bud looks like its going to be a white flower, or maybe three white flowers if I'm lucky. And I gave in to plantlove and bought a deep maroon one. But what is startling is the state of the bluebells. Their leaves have been up for a few weeks and some of them have already formed flowers. Bluebells this early? -- with the Lenten rose only just coming out and the lungworts hardly beginning? Is this odd or normal?


I just pruned my roses, several weeks too late though I usually don't do it till now and its never felt this late before. Unmulched the euphorbia and its buds are well developed. Must get the pansies and the Johnny Jump ups in the ground but don't know when I can do it.


Do I unmulch the hydrangers and assume a spring where everything blooms in a wowingly bunched-up succession? Or am I just, as perhaps I often am, too easily amazed, amused and awed by the ever-changing, seductive wiles of Dame Kind's abudance? Have bluebells ever formed this early before? Even if they have, it all still feels mysterious and charged.


Where does this energy, all light and life, come from? Yes, I know the science and the theology as well, but still, it feels as if some ripening unknown were forming buds, buds that swell a bit larger every day. Buds that will bloom, but into what? A flower? Hardly just that. A flower yes, but more as well. But what that more is -- well-- that's whats so cool about spring's sweet succession. You may or may not find out. But still it will come and it will come again every year, a promise till that promise is finaly fully met.

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