The leaves are raked, the roses pruned and the beds freshly edged. The first blossoms of my crocuses are already summoning bees from their hives and the garden seems full of promise. Despite the the landscape's muted palette, the tans and browns possess a contemplative charm that is not without beauty. The lack of vegetation draws the eye to the emerging shoots and the diminutive spring flowers that herald the start of the season.
Emerging from the frozen earth the snowdrops
and the sight of the first hellebore blossoms are in some ways more exciting than June's prolific abundance.
It is at this time of year that the curves and angles of the landscape are most readily observed. Proportions, whether of beds, lawn or structures, impact a design's success and I am reminded that the new arches, which I installed last fall, are too tall and must be lowered before the growing season begins in earnest.
For the past several months the Northeast has been buried beneath record snowfalls. And while the branches of some woody ornamentals succumbed to its weight,the winter-long covering insulated my dormant perennials from frigid temperatures and bitter winds. While cleaning the beds I was relived to find that most everything seems to have weathered the cold. The only notable but unsurprising exception were the tea roses that I purchased from a box store last year. In expectation of their demise I ordered more from Edmund's roses in January and it seems that my cat, Briar, is impatiently awaiting their arrival.
With all my early chores completed ahead of schedule and the gardens looking neat and orderly I am ready for the games to begin. After all what is spring if not the most optimistic of seasons.
