Dogwood in Bloom

The dogwood in my garden is blooming beautifully this year for the first time. It escaped a late freeze that prevented bloom last year, and enjoyed a shot of rain recently that allowed the "petals" to fully unfurl. I put the word petals in quotes because they are really bracts, protective coverings for the flowers which look like a cluster of beads in the eye of the blossom.

The dogwood flower is a beautiful sign of spring, and it's rich in Christian symbolism. The four bracts represent the cross of crucifixion. Each sepal bears a mark representative of the nail marks in the hands and feet of Christ. The flowers in the center of the blossom represent the crown of thorns. The red berries that are often found on dogwood trees represent the blood of Christ.

Although dogwood trees are said to prefer moist, acid soil, it's obvious that the one in my yard is thriving in clay and in spite of a dry, difficult year previously. And, although it doesn't show in the photos I took above, behind the dogwood is blooming a beautiful lilac bush for the first time ever in my yard. A neighbor who always calls when her lilac blooms to make sure I get bouquets told me to help myself to the numerous suckers that had sprouted beneath her large shrub. After just 2 years the baby lilac produced enough flowers for me to cut my own bouquet!

And so my garden grows. Photos by JulenaJo.

Pussy Willow

A friend gave us a bouquet of pussy willow branches. The soft catkins really do look and feel like soft kitten toes. I don't have one of these trees in our yard, so I'm hoping they take root. As members of the willow family, they should do so quite easily.
This is a lovely sign of spring and it reminds me of first grade. A classmate brought in huge bundles of branches -- enough for every child in the class to take a few home. Mom put them in a vase. When my little sister saw them she was delighted. "What ARE they?" We told her, "Pussy willow." And then, wickedly, we both told her that kittens would grow from each fuzzy bud. As her excitement grew, so did our guilt. We had to fess up rather quickly. I'll never forget her mournful, "So kittens WON'T grow from them?" When we apologized and said no, there would be no kittens, she quickly lost interest in the pussy willows and in us. Amazing how much indignation she could muster up at that tender age. I smile, remembering.
Happy Spring! Pussy Willow photos by JulenaJo.

Frog-Song in the Air

On the way home from work today I spied a lawn scattered throughout with purple crocus blossoms. A boy about 12-years-old had abandoned his bicycle on the sidewalk and was picking a few of them. He'd obviously been stopped on his ride to wherever he was going by the amazing sight of that beautiful lawn. The expression on his face was one of wonderment--quickly followed by a look of guilt when he saw me watching him. I had to flash a smile his way. I thought it was cute that he couldn't resist them, and I hoped the homeowner wouldn't be too angry.

I also saw buzzards (Cathartes aura) circling in the sky over the south side of town. It gave my heart a lift to see them--it's another sure sign of spring's return. As if that weren't enough, the spring peepers aka tree frogs (Pseudacris crucifer, see photo, above) were singing from the vernal pond in the woods behind our house when I arrived home. I know they'll be silenced in chilly days and nights ahead yet, but we are really on the last leg of our race to spring.

The bulbs are continuing to show green tips in my flower bed. I walk out and look at least once a day, marveling. It's amazing how they appear out of the cold, dank mud--you'd think nothing could thrive there. Although the new shoots seem to grow quickly, it will be weeks before anything actually blooms. I don't care. After months of silent cold we have bird- and frog-song in the air and a hint of green on the gently warming earth.

I have a lot of garden clean-up and pruning to do. Perhaps I'll tackle some of it tomorrow as I have taken a vacation day. Although it will be chilly, I think there will be a break in the rain, and I'm rarin' to go! Spring Peeper photo from the United States Geological Survey, an agency of the U. S. Dept. of the Interior.

Cheeky Checker

I believe this little fellow is the white checkered skipper. All I know is he gave me a good chase around the garden last summer as I attempted a photo. I felt the entire time that he was laughing gaily at me. This was suggested by the jaunty angle of his wing, the cheeky way he darted off every time I drew near. He's tiny, and not very colorful, being mostly gray and white, but the bold checkering of his wing is attractive. He must have been drunk on lavender nectar when he finally relaxed enough to let me snap his portrait.

Off-the-cuff observations of the day: many of the migratory field birds are back. I've seen kildeer and assorted varieties of blackbirds. I've not yet heard red-winged blackbirds or the spring peepers call from the woods, but yesterday temperatures soared, so it won't be long. Today is cooler, and it's raining. It's funny how quickly we went from single digits to an unnaturally warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit. I'm glad it is more seasonal today. I noticed a few of the bulbs I planted last fall are breaking the soil. I'd forgotten where I put them so it is exciting to note where the green tips are showing up. I am not a planter of "drifts," much as I love to see flowers blooming so, because I hate to disturb what I already have in my garden in order to dig them in. Instead, I tucked a few things in here and there in hopes that they'd naturalize. This year's odd daffodil or muscari will be the lovely cluster in a few years. Sadly, I also see tender young dandelion leaves sprouting in the flower bed, along with other perennial weeds. And so, another season is about to begin. Checker Butterfly photo by JulenaJo.

Mid-February Musings

"Was it the smile of early spring
That made my bosom glow?
'Twas sweet, but neither sun nor wind
Could raise my spirit so.

Was it some feeling of delight,
All vague and undefined?
No, 'twas a rapture deep and strong,
Expanding in the mind!"
- Anne Bronte, In Memory of A Happy Day in February

Mid-February one's mind really turns to spring, doesn't it? The sun is just a smidgeon brighter and warmer, the days are a tad longer, and spirits raise accordingly. There are more smiles. People seem happier. We looked winter in the eye and came out on the other side.
Now, granted, there may be storms ahead, but in a month or so there will be enough warmth for spring peepers to break into song.

"The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within."
- William C. Bryant

On warm days sap rises in the trees and you notice the faintest swelling of the buds. Oh, we're far from leaves yet, but there are whispers of life from within. A walk around the yard and garden hints at what's to come: the dragon's blood sedum is brilliant red; creeping ranunculus repens is sending up tiny wrinkled leaves under all the roses; willows wave chartreuse twigs like lace from their boughs. Still no sign here in Ohio of the bulbs I planted last fall, but I keep looking--every time the snow melts away I look.

"From December to March, there are for many of us three gardens:
the garden outdoors,
the garden of pots and bowls in the house,
and the garden of the mind's eye."
- Katherine S. White

I must confess that I do not do so well with pots and bowls in the house. Gardening is all about the outdoors for me. I either drown or wither everything I attempt indoors. I have 4 houseplants: a tired looking cactus; a wan and wee baby spider plant; a green but ungrowing vase plant; and a gangly, awkwardly growing night-blooming cereus that sends out long naked shoots willy-nilly in all directions. I hope the latter will bloom this summer, but I have serious cereus doubts. (Sorry, I could not help myself.)
The garden of my mind's eye is thriving, though. I envision rows of flowers for cutting, roses aplenty, and fresh vegetables. I dream of warm spring days filled with blossoming trees and honeybees, and nights on the patio, listening to the larks' tinkling song from across the fields. February sunshine seems to shout, "Spring is coming!" I'm ready.