COME AND JUST TAKE A WALK with me. No big plant lesson, nothing to prune or weed or sow. Just pay a visit as I do early each morning and evening to the parts of the garden that are calling out to me in living color.
THERE USED TO BE an orchard here generations before my residency, and what I like best about the remnants is this oldest and most beat-up of all the trees, a favorite of the pileated woodpeckers who have hollowed it. Today drifts of Helleborus, Hylomecon, Trillum and other early risers take advantage of the springtime light, before the apple’s leaves fill in, to get up and growing.
OUT BACK BY THE CAT’S CABIN (yes, the cat who adopted me September 11, 2001 when I arrived in a hurry from New York City, has his own house), a giant low bowl of black violas called ‘Black Delight,’ from the Sorbet Series, is filling in, spurred on by recent unseasonable heat.
THE SOUND OF WATER is a key to making a garden, for me and for the birds, who drink and bathe 12 months a year in my little pools to our mutual delight.
THE BIG POTS THAT SPENT the winter in the barn, their young, not-quite-hardy Japanese maples still tucked inside them, are waiting for the action to start. After all, the season is still in dress rehearsal, isn’t it?