How can it be almost May? My little blog has lanquished in neglect for months; through Autumn, and the coldest Winter in years. Spring is stirring me to life again. Thank God for that!
A small perennial poking stubbornly through rocks and debris restores my lagging faith. Winter was so long, and the days so predictable. One begins to forget the gift of returning narcissus, daffodils, forsythia. The lucious colors of tulips have saved their surprise all these months; a few lost to hungry animals, but who can fault them--they do look good enough to eat.
Everything becomes Technicolor; slamming the door on the gray of winter. The sounds of birds suddenly begins, as if on signal. Soon the drumming of woodpeckers joins in and my laughable one-note bird (I don't know what species he belongs to) picks up where he left off last year.
Is it any wonder that a bit of longing comes with the gift of Spring? I can't help but long to have the youthful body, sans arthritis, and the thick auburn hair that attracted my husband long ago. Now, if I plant a tulip, and if it makes it through the winter, it comes back as lovely as ever. That's a trick I'd like to learn.
My favorite flower is still a rose, despite the darned thorns. I discovered a beautiful golden yellow rose whose fragrance fills the room, though I hate to cut it and bring it in. It was named after a man, of all things: "Henry Fonda". Never thought of a rose as anything but feminine. I will try to post a photo or two of my sweet smelling Henry. Don't think Norm will mind a bit.
LAST DAYS OF MY SUMMER GARDEN 2017 - (Crape Myrtle ) In many ways, this has been the hardest year of my life. Like my garden, the year is not finished yet.Here above the frost line, we are, ...