My glorious magnolia is in full bloom, two weeks ahead of schedule. I’ve been worried that it would get nipped by frosty nights, but so far, it has stayed clothed in fragrant pink blossoms. The old girl can still put on a show.
And so can the old cherry tree in the backyard. In fact, a number of things are blooming, including the bleeding heart.
All winter I dreamed about the garden. I settled in at my little desk in the kitchen and watched the snow drift past the fountain. I dutifully spread cracked corn for the birds and rabbits. And took stale bread out for the squirrels. But two weeks ago, I became a gardener again. I dug up three caryopteris bushes and moved them farther back. I cleared away the dead peony foliage and placed the wire cages over the the red/green spears of new growth.
And over the weekend I started gathering up the rocks that I had placed like necklaces in the secret garden. I wanted to get them out of the way so that this year’s layer of shredded bark could go down. I started placing them along the brick edges of the crushed limestone paths, and realized that I liked the look. So, I placed them all there. I think I like this look a lot, and now I can go on rock quests. I’ve become the neighborhood rock pilferer. I discovered a bunch of them almost hidden by brush at a school a few blocks away. Surely no one will notice if I rescue them from obscurity. But I will need more than the dozen I get there.
The quest begins.
Garden 337 