Overeager Planter

    

Tater, writhing in doggish estacy at the very thought of spring

    One of the crabapple trees is in full bloom. The other is just beginning it's period of glory. When I look at them it makes my heart swell up in my chest.

"Spring won't let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again." ~Gustave Mahler

    When I lay on the grass and look up into the blush-white of open flowers amidst the rose of buds and vibrant spring green leaves, up into the canopy of bees humming contently about, and birds darting with stick and twig for nests, I am transported.

     If ever a tree here on earth could be likened to the Tree of Life in heaven, it must be this one. It holds a whole little world in it's branches along with all sweet scent and beauty. It makes me want to create beauty. It makes me want to plant.

All the dark spots in the air are bees abuzzing...

    Here in the very northwest corner of the state we are in a whole different climate zone than the rest of our brethren. Our little corner shares the zone 6 cold and ice of a path that goes all the way up into Michigan. Here our last frost date is April 20th. Yes, many people gamble with that day and win, planting out tomatoes and petunias with reckless abandon. But sometimes there are the startling reminders that Winter is still allowed dominion until that magical date. My middle son can remember it snowing on his birthday- April 16th.
    To ease my green pangs of planting desire, I planted inside. Larkspur and black hollyhocks, violas and cornflowers, nasturtium and nigella, touch-me-nots and poppies.

    And then I planted vines. I have a real penchant for vines. How splendorous to have something that reaches and climbs until it is high above your head and then burst into a wall of flowers. So I planted sweetpeas and two clematis, and even moonflower vine. The moonflower vine is new to me. It has large, tropical looking leaves and morning glory-appearing flowers in moonbeam white. It also blooms at night and perfumes the air. I can't wait to see how it does. 

    And I have finally given in to desire and created a "garden window". My parents have a small bay window in their kitchen filled with orchids and flowering plants. My windowsills are so shallow that to open them means moving every single pot so that it isn't tumbled off to sure destruction. Yes, it is a pain, but what loveliness to look at while I await my chance to garden outdoors. 
    My hubby gave me an orchid for a Valentine one year. I admired it greatly, but whispered my apologies to it. I can't keep a house plant alive. You may have read in The Tomatoes Final Fling where I said I don't water. And it turns out that inside plants don't even get rain. Imagine that! But my lovely little orchid was supposed to survive on a couple of ice cubes every month. Really?

    It worked. Two years later my little orchid is bigger and fatter, and has been joined by a tiny orchid family. It really only takes a couple of ice cubes! I gained bravery and bought two African violets. As a child my mother had every variation you could imagine. I don't know how these will feel about the ice cube treatment, one can only hope. For now it is a beauteous blooming to stave off my hunger for more flowers.
    And as spring advances every bloom that shows it's face is fair game to become part of the ever-changing tableau that is staged in the pass-through window above my kitchen sink. An ephemeral garden to uplift me as I cook and wash.
    Come now, Spring...

 

"The earth laughs in flowers."

 ~Ralph Waldo Emerson