The Handiwork Of Bulbarella Stinze

All I had to do was pick up all the sticks, kill an acre of Silver Lamium and chop it all down once a year to find it. It is just beginning. Something to tide you over.

Spring

No words have wanted to venture out in the last few days. I missed Bloom Day. The flowers didn't.

It has been warm, up to the low sixties, with intermittent rains. There has been enough dry for mulch spreading in proper gardens. The daffodils are blooming on the mountain top. The minor bulbs and anemone are beginning. The first tiny blooms of the forest floor are here.

It is spring. A lot of plants are blooming and breaking bud. This is when you can start to worry about the next round of snow and cold.

Last Sunday, in a day of rain, Solly Kitty came over for a visit and spent some quality time hiding under the couch growling at anyone who got close. She was completely anti-social. No assaults were launched. That was a good thing. She has gone for a short garden walk to check on the stinze. Progress is slow.

A matched pair of broken crockery followed me home. Hard to image isn't it?

I am hoping next Sunday turns into a fine day for cutting down the grasses and a slow day of bulb strolling. I can make up for the missed Bloom Day with a good showing of the bulbs. The diagnosis is more passing rains and warm ahead. By Sunday even more blooms will be open.

It is spring. The bulbs are blooming.

Many Years Later

In another three months I will have completed my thirteenth year high on the low spot of a North Carolina mountaintop. I don't walk this mountain as fast as I used to. Time does what time does.

Time is growing the Under Garden of Winter into substance. Every year it becomes more visible to the rubberneckers. Every year it gets easier to maintain as is. The garden is full. Not that that is an iron clad rule for a gardener or realistic for a living canvas full of varmints and pestilence.

The Abundance more than compensates. I have daffodils blooming too. It is time. The songbirds are returning and the voice of the forest has shifted tone completely. Spring rises.

My best patch of Trout Lilies have been multiplying most generously. It is nice when you find a plant's sweet spot. Even educated guesses don't always get it right. And then some plantings get eaten by the varmints and you never know if it was in a sweet spot.

Many years later high on the low spot of a North Carolina mountain top.

Begin Daffodils

Going to and fro to Solly's house twice a day means I am walking that way a bit more often when the weather permits. Daylight on the right end of the day means there is no need to hurry and one visit to the chiropractor made a big improvement in my walking.

The bulbs are rising. The first daffodils have started to bloom in this warm.

I have been watching daffodils for over a decade now.

In the land of Bulbarella Stinze
And beyond

I have some thoughts about how all these bulbs actually preform here. I just don't care to type about it.

Even the Rattler is stirring.

Crocus Afternoon

I like having my daylight at the end of the day.

Daylight is pretty nice period. Much nicer than cold wet slop.

I get one more day of light.

Then a couple days of wet slop, warm wet slop at least.

The warm will put a jolt of growth into all the different kind bulbs.

Today was a nice crocus afternoon.

Button came out. Solly did not. Solly is showing clear signs she wants to be an indoor cat. Maybe the arrival of the daffodils will encourage her to come out.

How did this solstice kitty come to be?

I might enjoy this round of warm wet slop. By the time it arrives I will have moved six full pallets of mulch across the side of a mountain. I will be stopping by the chiropractor in the morning to schedule some hip realignment sessions. My days as a pack mule are coming to an end.

The Wounded Skunk

The snow has returned.

It is fairly common for there to be an eye of maybe blue dry between the rain and the snow. That can last for a day or an hour.

There was enough time and sun in this eye that the crocus did manage a weak opening.

Now it is snowing and cold again. The petals are engorged. There could be trouble ahead.

Bulbs are not the only things stirring. I've had a visitor the last few days in the intermissions between cold wet slop.

A truly pitiful looking skunk has stumbled through the garden and down the driveway during daylight twice this week. It looks like it got hit by a car.

It was looking a bit better yesterday before the snow. Still pitiful and no I have no plans to rescue the thing. Even the cats seem to know better.

The next eye of dry might last three whole days. I have mulch to spread in proper gardens. Here it is just the leaves and chop and drop.

The Buddha remains guard.

The Interregnum

The snow is gone.

Rain finished it off.

Solly and I have spent some quality time out on the lanai. There is a temperature component involved here.

Not yet. There may be a moisture component that needs to be overcome. One day we will have a walk in the garden.

The ring of crocus is free to bloom.

There is a sunshine component that needs to be reached.

It might happen tomorrow. Then it will rain.

I see a few dry days ahead. Air dry at least. The ground will need a bit more draining.

The bulbs keep rising.

More Wet February

Rinse and repeat. Rain, snow, cold. Then rain, snow, cold. That is already looking like the plan for next week. I will say the wet of rain makes the colors of the Under Garden stand out.

It needs to stop. I need some dry.

It is more pleasant to visit crocus in the dry.

Not yet. That last step off the front porch is one step too far. Solly is not ready for a walk in the garden. Some dry might help.

The colors are nice.

Then it snowed. It started with wet and heavy half dollar sized flakes.

Then it got cold and turned to powder.

The crocus were blanketed yet again.

And it snowed some more.

The cold never left.

"My brother and I stand like the fences
of abandoned farms, changed times
too loosely webbed against
deicide homicide
A really powerful blow
would bring us down like scarecrows.
Nature, knowing this, finding us mildly useful
indulging also
her backhanded love of freakishness
allows us to stand."
       Daniel J. Berrigan

Think dry. Soon.