It looks like this today, but soon it will be abloom with joys and problems. Joys = peonies, iris, magnolia, dogwood, weird plants that creep on the ground that have been here since I moved in and keep coming back. Problems = getting rid of all that evil spreading plant I ignored last year, diging out and separating hostas, motivating myself to prune prune prune once everything has bloomed. What a difference a month is going to make in this yard.
By June, this climbing rose will be in bloom. I didn’t plant it, and I love it even more because I didn’t. Will the baby purple clematis I *did* plant come back this year? Will my other rose bush be as kind as it was to me last year and give me at least one single perfect bloom?
Here are the withered remains of my red geraniums in my front window boxes — they wouldn’t give up last September, and I didn’t have the heart to kill them. Then overnight, they just bit the dust, and I got too busy (see: lazy) to remove them. Below them find the row of white iris my father-in-law planted for me the week Nate was born. Last year one bloomed, how many will bloom this year? How wonderful that they will always make me think of baby Nate. Meanwhile, my evergreen Otto Luken is due to sprout some white flowers pretty soon. (He’s the shrubby one on the top right.) Good old dependable Otto. Will he forgive me for not spraying him with antidessicant this winter? Bad, lazy gardener lady!
Phoebe pug is saying it all for me here (though it might be hard to see her) — looking out the front door at her favorite warm spot on the porch. Waiting.