Spring has come at last, with verdure ‘springing’ forth in every direction, tantalizing the eyes and increasing the infectious desire to plant.
I always feel it is really spring when I buy my first plant. For this season, I chose a potted fuchsia. I know I had said previously I would be buying herbs, but my dear mother beat me to the punch and planted plenty, so there’s no need. And besides, a fuchsia is ever so colorful. I fondly remember touring the local Arboretum and seeing double fuchsias hanging in baskets everywhere. They certainly liven the place up. Mine has only a few blooms, but plenty of buds, so soon it will be covered in hot pink frills.
My mother’s green thumb has been creating all kinds of havoc lately. She’s expanded her own garden to about twice its size, by adding various beds here and there, and taken over my neglected rose bed to boot. About three months ago, I think, or even earlier, she planted a bunch of bulbs on the outskirts of her enclosed garden space. They’ve bloomed in proliferation and are quite beautiful.
And elsewhere, spring is evident. From the Rose of Sharon by the pool…
…just putting out it’s first green shoots, to the Carolina Jessamine about to burst forth in fragrant yellow glory…
My cat, Emma, is certainly enjoying the weather. Being both an indoor and outdoor feline, she is constantly in a quandary about whether she really does want to be outside or inside. It’s quite a nuisance. Her voice, clarion and obnoxious, can wake the dead.
Spring has never been my favorite season, for I generally prefer Fall or Winter, but I can still get excited about its onset. There’s just something thrilling about the first leaves a tree puts out.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but gay,
In such a jocund company!
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.