Signs of spring are all around us--the return of robins, the scent of the earth reawakening and colourful flowers peeking out of the brown soil.
How lovely it is to walk outside without heavy winter coats, hats and gloves. The dog running ahead, sniffing new and exciting scents. The sun is brighter and the days longer. Inside, I throw open the windows and burn scented candles to refresh the stale air.
Scents for spring should be light and refreshing, such as rose water, lilac and lily of the valley.
Easter has arrived and with it comes happy memories of Easters' past. Toasting Hot Cross Buns and painting hard boiled eggs. I recall Easters when I was a girl and how much warmer the weather was in the '60s. We went to church wearing only our pastel dresses, hats and white gloves with maybe a sweater to keep us warm. My Aunt Lil would have a juicy ham and a fruit pie baking in the oven, filling her house with their delectable aromas.
When I was a girl images of Mother Nature were those of mature women, unlike today's paintings and photographs of young, beautiful, multicultural women, draped in greenery and surrounded by animals and flowers.
I used to get Mother Nature confused with Mother Hubbard. A TV ad that stays with me is from the 1970s with Dena Dietrich portraying Mother Nature who is tricked into believing that Chiffon Margarine is butter. 'It's not nice to fool Mother Nature,' she quips just before lightning strikes.
In prehistoric times, goddesses were worshiped for their association with fertility and agriculture. The feminization of nature was a natural progress of early humans at the end of the last glacial period around 11,500 BCE, when men went hunting and women stayed behind with the children and planted crops.
Now is the time to sow seeds for summer flowers and vegetables. I don't have a greenhouse, so I'll start them indoors in trays. They won't require sun for several weeks until they begin to sprout. In six weeks I'll have shoots of tomatoes, cucumbers, zucchinis and radishes to plant outside. Next week I'll buy a copy of Farmers Almanac, a wonder source of information for gardening and environmental issues.
The ground is still frozen, but with optimism, I have been strolling through the garden, making notes and watching to see what has survived the harsh winter. So far, just the miniature roses bushes look forlorn without any buds, but that could change. Snow is predicted to fall next Tuesday, and I'm crossing my fingers that it will melt on the ground and plants and flowers will continue to blossom.
Or so it seemed last week. My crocuses and tulips were peeking out of the ground and the warm air was melting snow and ice, but a few days ago, the weather turned and we're stuck in another deep freeze. I'm back to wearing extra layers of clothing when I walk the dog, but I have refused to bring my boots back upstairs, despite the dusting of snow outside.
An inspection of my garden indicated that the crocuses and tulips have shrunk back into the group. I can't say that I blame them, although I've never seen them do that before.
I can hear birds singing outside my window that's open a crack. Last Wednesday, I saw my first robin of the season, but my dear friend, Jacqueline, who lives in Toronto, saw her first robin on March 8th, outside her home. He sang a beautiful serenade and she said, 'Had I been a lady robin, I would have rushed to his side.' As a published poet, magical words roll off her tongue. I just clapped my hands when I saw my robin. Of course I told him how wonderful it was to see him, believing that spring had finally arrived. How sad he looked perched in the bare tree, watching us walk by.
I had started to plan the changes I will make to the gardens this spring, but it looks as though they will be delayed awhile longer. For now, the dreams of turning the earth and transplanting perennials will have to wait for another day.
The past few days in Southern Ontario have been warm and sunny and the record amount of snow that has fallen this winter has begun to melt. When Little Bear and I went into the backyard this morning I couldn't help inspecting the gardens. About one-quarter of the plots are still covered in snow, but I was surprised to see several perennial plants starting to sprout out of the ground.
Hyacinths, tulips and crocuses are almost a half an inch high. The Sedum spectabile plants are all popping out of the ground and, soon, I will need to deadhead last year's hardy stems. I bought one small Sedum spectabile many years ago and have separated it half a dozen times and transplanted it to various locations in the front and backyard.
This plant is so hardy that I recall one year, when my naughty puppy was digging for buried treasure, one stem with its root intact lay on the ground. Instead of tossing it the composter, I planted it in the side garden next to a thirty-year-old florabunda rose bush, from my late in-laws' garden. The replanted Sedum is now larger than the original bush, probably because it's in a sunnier location.
My Bachelor Button plants are thriving, but it's hard to kill these hardy bushes that bloom several times during the spring and summer months. There's no sign of the white trilliums in the back shade garden, but they were slow to grow last year so I'll give them a bit more time.
In the front garden my wild purple irises are flourishing as they do every year. They really are wild. About twenty years ago, my husband and I were walking our dog, Rudy, who's now in doggie heaven, in a wooded public park and found irises growing on a grassy hill. I know we shouldn't have, but we dug some of them up and planted them at home. In retrospect, I'm glad we did, for that hill was leveled to extend the road. I like to think that I saved the irises from the fate of overzealous developers.
My blue hydrangea bush has lots of buds. I planted it after buying a pot on sale in the grocery store two years ago. They looked gorgeous inside surrounded by my blue and white china collection and I planted it outside, hoping it would bloom again the next spring. It began to bud early last year, but a late frost prevented the plant from blooming. I'm crossing my fingers that this spring's temperatures will stay above freezing.
The wonderful thing about perennial gardens is that every day something different is happening. One plant is beginning to bloom while another has finished. If you plant wisely there will be colour throughout the garden from spring to autumn.
February's wrath has faded into the distant past and the first week of March brings tranquil breezes and sunny days. Ontario has been buried in snow for months and we've suffered through our routines with dignity and courage.
Two cardinals just landed on the birch tree in my backyard and are feasting on the seeds and bread I put outside every morning. What a joy it is to see them and listen to their lovely voices.
This is the time of year when avid gardeners retrieve the flower and vegetable seeds they've stored since last autumn and plant the tiny kernels in little pots so they'll be ready for the garden when the frost warnings have vanished and the ground is soft and fertile.
At this stage the seeds don't require sun, so they can be placed in a dark corner out of sight. When the sprouts begin to peek out of the soil, they should be moved to a sunny location where they can continue to grow.
This time of year, pots of daffodils are affordable and brighten kitchens and living rooms. Open the windows wide and let Mother Nature clear the stale, musty odours. Don't toss the daffodils out when they stop blooming. Find a sunny location in the garden and plant the bulbs twice as deep as they are tall, which is about five to six inches. Next spring they will reward you with golden blooms.
Soon, gardeners will be on our knees, planting and turning soil. This is the time of year when we need to exercise, especially legs and arms, which will be doing most of the work in the garden. Squats are the best way to strengthen legs and lifting light weights over your head and as far back as you can go will tone arm muscles.
I keep a rough sketch of the garden, indicating each plant's location. I have a notebook, reminding me to move a plant or divide it or take it out and replace it with something hardier. I often give clippings to friends, which reminds me of my childhood.
When I was ten years old we moved from Willowdale to Scarborough and my mother took a clipping of an old peony plant that she loved. She had given a clipping to my aunt, who lived in Willowdale and sent her another clipping when she moved to Toronto. I like to think that the fifty year old plant is still thriving in Southern Ontario gardens.
