It is like the first official day of spring on the calendar and it is actually spring high on the low spot of a North Carolina mountain top. Somehow it seems too soon.
The daffodils have exploded with a full week of warmth and a good bit of sunshine.
The resident gardeners better get here quick or they will have to rely on this blog to see just small pieces of their own decades worth of bulb handiwork. If they miss the peak of the Bulbapaloozathon what follows for the rest of the season is nothing to sneer at. Any disappointment will fade quickly with the non stop show of abundance.
I am making an effort to take fewer closeups and give a better idea of the big picture. The camera however just isn't capable of showing what the eye sees. I could try the panorama setting on the camera. Not a bad idea. I should at least give it a whirl.
There are more than just 10,000 daffodils and an equal number of minor bulbs waking up in the ridge top garden. The anemones are here. The peonies have poked through the ground and caterpillar patrol has started to prevent them from getting eaten. Daylilies have tufts of green spikes. Iris grow fatter.
Next door in the garden to be, the first planted of a huge spring bulb show that could materialize over the years have returned. I so want to burn that rubbish pile and just don't know when the time will present itself.
Bit by bit, bulb by bulb, weed by weed, a garden to be takes shape.
It will keep me occupied until it is my own time to return the soil for rest.
Monday, March 21, 2011
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2 comments:
I do love that blue in a garden, so restful. The Daffy's in the 2nd pic look so unusual. What is it's name. My Ugly one looks something like that. I only had 2 blooms. Maybe next yr there will be more.
Yes, you do have enough to keep you busy but lets not think or talk of the other. That part is too sad.
Yes, they will be so disappointed if they miss the bulb show! Things are way early here as well, by two weeks or more. The Yoshino cherry tree is in full bloom, the lilacs are open, and on and on. What shall we do when that killing hard frost comes? Oh woe.
Frances
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