It's here! It's here! Spring's finally here!

 

               

                After all our moaning and groaning, harrumphing and grumping about the lateness of spring, Mother Nature—taking her own good time—finally heard and gave us our wishes.

                Blooming as I write this:-- cinquain-and-a-half-- are:

“Red bud,

dandelion,

thrift, Stars-of-Bethlehem

henbit, fleabane, dianthus, one

tulip,

 

dogwood,

wood violets,

lilacs, pansies, iris—

(the rest defy syllabification required by the poetic form.)

                Also in bloom are the yellow rose of Texas, vintage double daffodils, azaleas, the last vestiges of japonica and spirea, the Christmas poinsettia, baby jew, begonias—beefsteak (in water!) and common (in water!), African violets and epesia—the latter two, inside.

                The outside porch plants have endured a month’s worth of wind. The Norfolk pine is so tall I placed it on the ground by the east porch foundation. Even there, it fell over three times. But only into the azaleas. No harm done.

                During several of the lately-nice evenings, I rooted out—by pick—or clipped to the ground—privet—the main green and growing nemesis at Couchwood. Following closely is honeysuckle, which while blooming provides such fragrant redolence. But before and afterward, it creeps up and around, the parasitic vine foisting itself like a needy person on whatever is near. You dare not stand too close for too long, or its tendrils might reach out and leech/latch on to you!

                The Encore azaleas in my beds took a hit during the extended and intensely-cold winter. While one bush—not an Encore--given by California brother to Mama several years before her demise—was not affected, the 8-year-old bushes (from her funeral) were.

                I decided to take things in my own hands—namely clippers—and cut out any growth that didn’t have a pink bud at its tip. Only then did I email my Oak Ridge uncle to see whether or not I should do that. He suggested waiting another month. Too late. But the pruned bushes are pinking out nicely.

                We’ve all heard of “movers and shakers” and “shape shifters,” right? Anyone who works in plants and dirt are such. Here’s my story: For several years, now, I’ve noticed a patch of white daffodils at the extreme southern part of this acre.

How the bulbs originally got there is an enigma. But as of last week, they no longer reside in that out-of-the-way place. I spaded them up—red clay dirt and all—and replanted 3-4 bulbs in each of 3-4 places in the yard. Of course, the perky blooms immediately folded their heads in death prayers. I snipped them off, saved the best ones for a vase inside, and dropped the rest with their seed heads around the plantings. (Movers and shakers, shape shifters? Yep.)

I still have two containers of day lilies to move to Grandmother’s lily garden/ our pet cemetery under the sassafras grove. Plus 4 small evergreens to go from container to earth. I also have 3 pots of variegated privet, 2 pots of bayberry—all to space out (with the evergreens) on the west property line, which has nothing past the neighbor’s privacy fence.

One change I’d like to make in established plantings is to move the lilac from the back “dooryard.” I can’t see and smell the blooms unless I go to the shed or the garbage cans. This plant I started from a slip in a cardboard sleeve bought at Fred’s many years ago. It is the first lilac ever to bloom (in my memory) at Couchwood.