I am just returning from a lost 24 hours. Some bowel adjustments continue. The good news is they did not find anything alarming in my colonoscopy. I will live until Medicare and into my decrepitude. Let's just hope my joints hold out and the log trucks keep rolling safely by.
It all means I will be able to watch a garden ten years in the making, grow in maturity. Will bad designer's ideas work over the long term? So far the results look good.
The post snow squash peak of the second wave of daffodils is coming. The minor bulbs are joining in by the thousands. The real show is next door. I will have a chance this weekend to enjoy it.
In my garden, a wide assortment of daffodils from Bulbarella's divisions continue to open new blooms.
A decade of observation makes clear that the less heavy and complex the flower structure and the later it blooms, the better chance a daffodil has of achieving a perky performance to the end. High on the low spot, spring is rarely a gentle affair.
I prefer the simple flower structure anyway.
This says daffodil. All the frilly, double petal mess is just that, a mess. Now that is happening to columbine. I don't like columbine pom poms at all.
In the warm, the Trout Lilies are already finishing up their bloom. It lasted a week at best. Conditions were just right for that and for setting seed. Let them multiply. At the one patch that I know is making babies, I have counted seven little ones.
One group of the big yellow trumpet daffodils decided to bloom late and avoided getting squashed like the others ten feet away. There is safety in abundance.
I have been poked, prodded, sampled and inspected. The doctors have had their way with me. It could be there are some benefits to a lifetime of gardening and dirt worship. Good peasant genes also help.
Now it is time to get back to the garden as the first flush of green washes over the 'aina.