SPRING BREEZES
We have had so much wind this year that spring didn’t just arrive; it blew in with a vengeance. Of course all those blustery gusts might also have been winter blowing its way out–only a meteorologist would know for sure. One thing does seem certain–if the gales keep up, the robins and other nest-building birds are going to have to secure those nests with Crazy Glue. Fortunately the winds haven’t affected the flowers, which are popping up from the earth. The great spring gardening marathon has started.
In my yard the hellebores are blooming, alongside the snowdrops and crocuses. The Jasminum nudiflorum or winter blooming jasmine is covered with tiny, trumpet-shaped yellow flowers. The daffodils, tulips and hyacinths are two or three inches tall, depending on their bloom times. Just yesterday a clutch of beautiful little Iris reticulata ‘Katharine Hodgkin’ burst into bloom. If you don’t have any of these, make a note to yourself to buy some next fall. They are perfect miniature iris, only about three inches tall, with pale blue petals and yellow throats marked with delicate dark veins and freckles. ‘Katharine’ and her miniature iris cousins are dirt cheap, so you can invest in enough to make an impressive display. They are great for containers too.
The most pressing task in my garden is undoing the wind’s ravages and clearing away debris, dead leaves and sticks, especially in areas where the spring blooming plants are struggling to push through. I have already cleared out around the hellebores and cut off all the raggedy old leaves that obscure the flowers and fresh spring growth. While I was clipping the old leaves it occurred to me that this is one housekeeping detail the merchandisers never mention when you buy these increasingly fashionable plants. The nodding flowers are so striking that it is a shame to have them camouflaged by big, winter-worn leaves. Grooming the plants isn’t hard and the rewards are immediate. If you accidentally clip off one of the flowers, just bring it inside and float it in a saucer of water.
Many things change every year in my garden, but one thing remains constant–the groundhog. This spring, while I was tied up with other business, he had the nerve to dig one of his large holes in the raised bed right alongside my garage. When I discovered this outrage I had visions of hundreds of groundhogs digging a network of tunnels under the garage. Now every time I change the cat boxes, I dump the used litter into the hole. This is a method that has discouraged the groundhog–at least for a while–in the past. Since we have an endless supply of used cat litter, I figure that we can continue this guerilla warfare for as long as it takes.
Once I have dealt with the most pressing of the debris-clearing chores and launched the groundhog deterrence campaign, I will get on with the business of clipping back all the shrubs. The roses necessarily go first, since they have already broken dormancy. They bloomed for so long last fall that I postponed cutting some of them back in the hopes of getting just a few more flowers. I got them, but now I also have to contend with the overgrown canes. Mighty trees have been felled by the howling winter winds, but somehow every one of my untrimmed rosebushes still has all of its overgrown canes. There must be some law of nature at work here, but I can’t figure out what it is.
Several of my butterfly bushes also need an annual trim. Fortunately this will not affect flowering, as they don’t really get going until late spring. Mine also grow like weeds, so the pruning will only make them fuller in appearance and more floriferous.
Onion grass is as eternal as the groundhog and just as hard to get rid of. Along with chickweed, onion grass is the bane of my existence in the spring. If I could only refine it into bio-fuel I would be rich. As it is, I dig it up religiously, then watch in amazement as devilish new clumps spring up overnight. By the end of spring every year I have made peace with onion grass, having pulled out about a ton of it and lopped off the rest with the lawn mower. I expect that the same thing will happen this year.
Perhaps the unusually high number of winter wind storms also blew us off kilter in the political, social and economic realms. It certainly seems so. At any rate, it’s a relief to turn off the news, put on a sweater and go out into the garden. In my yard the little white lilac that was so badly afflicted with mildew last year is making a strong recovery. The young, yellow-flowered magnolia that went in last spring has set lots of buds and the pulmonaria are preparing to pepper the ground with cobalt blue flowers. Even the groundhog and the onion grass contribute to the seasonal rhythm. Outside good things are happening every day and renewal is constant.