It is a bit early to jump around with joy that various babies are budding when we haven't even stepped into February, which has seen snow for a couple of years now, not to mention the white flurry that can come by much later in the year, like April and May. I have chosen to record, however, a few lucky occurrences. Like a chrysanthemum in bloom, too late or too early. It's one of those stuck into pots just like that in the fall—a story I've yet to tell.
Or these glorious edelweiss buds. In Romania, this plant is known as a monument of nature, and I learned that the tough way: by picking some flowers on a mountain peak, in in the presence of my primary school teacher. The idea that I could have one such baby in my urban garden is disturbing in its beauty. But then it seemed to die after planting, so the arrival of these buds makes me feel equally happy and silly. And quite hopeful, but let's cross that bridge in the summer.
A year and half ago I picked
a tiny honeysuckle at the farmers' market, and then managed to lose it when every single pot froze the following winter. Last autumn I picked a more established plant that gave us many perfumed evenings. Soon after, however, visiting Angela & Boglin I picked up a gardening book off their shelves before bedtime and learned with great concern that not all honeysuckles are born equal: many of them don't do winters. Maybe I picked right the second time?
Again from Angela, who's got a playful gardening manner similar to mine, I learned that her beautiful coffee table garden magazine was published by the RHS, so I finally subscribed. Very little appeals to me inside the covers, unfortunately, but now and then I pick up great nuggets. Like the expression blind narcissi—foliage without flowers, which can occur for a variety of reasons and, frankly, any of them would explain why my pots were fairly blind last year. These shoots, however, are from new bulbs, gifted last fall by the
Camden Garden Centre, so there are chances we will see some daffodil blooms. This year, at least.
And last, these are
Chris's grasses. The one thing he asked for on the patio, and I managed to make happen. They mainly feature here because one is supposed to cut them back in the autumn, but I didn't have the heart. And if one keeps them around in the winter, then one's DEFINITELY supposed to cut them back in February, says above mentioned magazine. Well, some of them were already cut when delivered, or dead enough to deserve that fresh start, but two of them have been growing strong and looking healthy, so I've decided they won't get the same treatment. The whole pot has grown on me so much that I can't imagine it reduced to its glazing. So there.
Labels: green babies
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