These would be up and coming tulips.
and Snowdrops that escaped the attention of the geese:
(I have to move them around frequently so the geese don't find and devour them all)
One day this week, I had company visiting. DH brought the mail in when he arrived home from work, tossed it on the table. Company or no company, when mail arrives, I must know if I got anything worth looking at. DH asked the usual question, "Anything good?" To which I replied, "A new seed catalog." He turned to my friend and said, "After you leave, she will look at that thing for an HOUR. And she'll take it to bed tonight and look at it some more before she goes to sleep. She can read the same page for 40 minutes!"
Response from guest who shall remain anonymous until I've decided whether or not she'll be forgiven: "Riveting!" (And then they both howled with laughter.) Hmmphf! See if she gets any fresh tomatoes from MY garden this summer!
And all this brought back to mind another, similar incident. I once overheard DH telling one of his buddies that "She read a whole BOOK about sweet peas! And get this: her SISTER read it first and then GAVE it to her." The buddy's response: "No WAY!" as if they were in disbelief there could be two people in the world who'd read a whole book about sweet peas. As for him ... maybe he'll have fresh berries for dinner next time he comes. Nanny-berries. (I'm not referring to Viburnum Lentago here.)
Point is, either you've got it or you don't. The gardening gene. Apparently it's a sex-linked trait, dominant in my family. My sister has a whole greenhouse, and propagates new plants just because she can. Then she finds someone to give them to so she has space to do some more. I actually think my gardening gene might have lain dormant had it not been for her. My brother, on the other hand, once saw my Autumn Joy sedum growing at the edge of a bed and asked, "What's this? Broccoli?"
When I was still a student, my sister used to take me on "tours" of her back yard so I could see all her gardening handiwork. At that point in my life, it wasn't exactly spellbinding for me either ... but interesting enough that I tucked away some of her helpful hints for future reference. Once I was married with children, gardening became an obsession. One thing led to another, and now look where it has landed me!
I convinced my husband that the garden was much too small ... that we needed a place with more space for gardening. The animals came to fulfill the need for more compost! Crazy? Maybe. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. It suits me, and gives my husband something to laugh about with his friends.
Oh ... about my friend? ... I've decided to forgive her. I just remembered something. She recently gave me a gift just so to have an excuse to present it in this bag she couldn't resist buying, thinking it perfect for me:
Isn't that too funny?
Okay ... I'm off to see if there's a spot where I can plant some peas. Yesterday, it was too wet. Do you think a day of sunshine is enough to dry things up a bit? If nothing else, gardeners are optimists.
The Gardener's Morning
The robin's song at daybreak
Is a clarion call to me.
Get up and get out in the garden,
For the morning hours flee.
I cannot resist the summons,
What earnest gardener could?
For the golden hours of morning
Get into the gardener's blood.
The magic spell is upon me,
I'm glad that I did not wait;
For life's at its best in the morning,
As you pass through the garden gate.
- Howard Dolf