![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pameladeanThe snowdrops under the big peony in the rose bed are up and blooming. These are such tiny ones that even if you lie on your back in the mud, it's difficult to see the insides of the flowers. They look very fine and demure, however. Having spotted those, I went about looking in all the early-spring places. A lot of crocuses are coming up, and there are two yellow-budded winter aconites in the side yard. There's a lot of evidence of digging in all the spots where Eric and I put in the crocuses and narcissi last fall, so I'm not sure what is going to happen yet. The diggers have not gotten down to the depth of the narcissi, so I hope those may still come up. The crocuses may all have been eaten in the bulb, however.
The white rose of York has small leaf buds. The Henry Kelsey, wiser in the ways of the north, sits there looking as if it has died, but I know that it hasn't.
I took Ari out for the first time since the big snow. He enjoyed running along the now-horizontal trunks of the downed arbor-vita. The lilac whose main trunk landed in our yard has buds all over it; the trunk is cracked but not broken off. I hope that the neighbors do something about propping it back up before mowing season, as presently there is no easy way to get the lawn mower from the back to the side yard.
Other signs of life include the indefatigable motherwort, dame's rocket rosettes, common yarrow leaves, and bright-red new growth on the semi-wild rosebushes.
I got to do a limited amount of playing in the dirt: I dug up the invading grass clumps in a bed where I knew there were tulip and crocus bulbs that had not made an appearance last year. Sure enough, there they were. I hope that in the absence of the strangling grass, they will come up and bloom properly.
A cardinal is calling "What cheer" over and over again, with a number of trills and flourishes for variety. I had better get back to my book now. I hope you are having good days out there.
P.
The white rose of York has small leaf buds. The Henry Kelsey, wiser in the ways of the north, sits there looking as if it has died, but I know that it hasn't.
I took Ari out for the first time since the big snow. He enjoyed running along the now-horizontal trunks of the downed arbor-vita. The lilac whose main trunk landed in our yard has buds all over it; the trunk is cracked but not broken off. I hope that the neighbors do something about propping it back up before mowing season, as presently there is no easy way to get the lawn mower from the back to the side yard.
Other signs of life include the indefatigable motherwort, dame's rocket rosettes, common yarrow leaves, and bright-red new growth on the semi-wild rosebushes.
I got to do a limited amount of playing in the dirt: I dug up the invading grass clumps in a bed where I knew there were tulip and crocus bulbs that had not made an appearance last year. Sure enough, there they were. I hope that in the absence of the strangling grass, they will come up and bloom properly.
A cardinal is calling "What cheer" over and over again, with a number of trills and flourishes for variety. I had better get back to my book now. I hope you are having good days out there.
P.
