April 25, 2016.
I’m really, really hoping my iris bloom this year despite the various snowstorms and freezes. I really, really need the boost. Until then, I will bask in the glory of these beauties from nearly four years ago.
Come on iris, please do your thing!
“Look up at the miracle of the falling snow, – the air a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world . . .”
~ John Burroughs from The Snow-Walkers
View from my kitchen window. April 16, 2020.
American Robin. February 14, 2020.
You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes …
Ah, that’s the reason a bird can sing –
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.
~ Douglas Malloch
Lilac bloom on May 17, 2018.
The thermometer currently reads 18 degrees. The sky is gray. It’s snowing and blowing, and is forecast to continue like that through tomorrow morning. I try to live in the moment, to be mindful and present in my life. But right now, in this moment, I’m looking ahead to spring and lilacs in bloom.
Fight me, Pema Chödrön.
It’s snowing right now. Two days ago it was 70 degrees. Why must Colorado weather be so erratic? Where’s my sunshine? My warmth? Where has spring gone to hide?
While I await its return, here are some springtime clematis blooms from several years ago.
Spring, please hurry on back!
Thank you!
Love,
Tracy
A few minutes ago I was working in my front yard, sowing death and destruction via my homemade weed killer (white vinegar, salt, and dish soap), while feeling frustrated and worn out by neverending garden demands. I was dreaming of a full-time gardener. Or better yet, a tiny house and one pot of geraniums. Or maybe a barrel of gasoline and a match to make it all go away.
Then I hit PAUSE on my grumpiness and focused on some blooming tulips.
It really is a wonderful thing to survive a long, dark, cold, snowy winter and be rewarded with colorful flowers. I’m still dreaming of my own gardener, but in the meantime I’m gonna try to appreciate the beauty poking through the tangled, weedy mess that is my front yard.
Happy first day of spring! It’s a beautiful day in the Denver metro area, but I was inside for most of it as I struggled with my work-for-hire project. Late this afternoon I stepped away from my computer and went outside to run around the neighborhood multiple times. First loop was with my short-legged doggo who is sometimes more an anchor than a running partner. So I dropped her off at the house and went out again.
Post-runn photo by Zippy
I’m feeling so much better now. Running for the win!
This is what was happening in my front yard nearly a year ago today.
There needs to be some serious growth taking place in the next two days if the tulip wants to debut on the same day this year.
Spoiler alert: I don’t think it’s gonna happen.
Spring is here and I’m fighting the urge to hide in the house rather than face the green that’s showing. It ain’t easy, though, when that green belongs to weeds determined to take over the yard.
Tap roots are the absolute worst, yo.
Music comes from an icicle as it melts,
to live again as spring water.
~ Henry Williamson
Today is frigid
and it’s just the beginning.
Eye on the spring prize.
What a difference a day makes.
They unfurled their blooms
then snow fell like wet cement.
The iris prevailed.
Yesterday, the forecast said it would start snowing this evening. Instead, I woke to smothered flowers and shrubs in my front and back yards. I spent more than an hour outside with a broom, clearing snow from collapsed lilac bushes and apache plume shrubs. I’m probably going to lose my iris display this year. Again. And forget about the poppies.
Sigh.
The finches are handling it pretty well. We’d already called it a season and brought in the long extension cord that heats the bird bath, so that’s a bummer. I filled the dish with hot water this morning and the water has already turned slushy.
The snow’s supposed to continue through Friday and then on Saturday? This:
.
Happiness held is the seed;
happiness shared is the flower.
~ John Harrigan
I just photographed this iris, the first to bloom in any of my gardens this year. This was also the first iris to bloom last year. I’m very happy to witness its delicate beauty again. And I’m also happy to share it here.
.
.
Today’s post is brought to you by people who no longer live here. The first tulip was planted by former neighbors, but not when we were gardening side-by-side. Rather, they did one of their infamous “drive-by plantings” when we weren’t looking, and gifted us some miniature tulips.
The next tulip is a senior citizen and was planted by the former owners of our house. Next month, we’ll have lived here 20 years.
That red flower is a lesson in being beautifully tenacious.
.
.
My nine-year-old daffodils survived all this:
They are bowed, but not broken:
Hooray for resiliency! Hooray for prevailing! Hooray for Laurie Halse Anderson and her freakishly-tough bulbs!
Allow me to explain.
It’s February and I’m longing for spring when flowers bloom.
So I went to last year’s photos and found this clematis:
“Perfect,” I thought. “I’ll post it as Thankful Thursday: The Looking Forward Edition.”
But then I wanted to also include a quotation about the future,
so I searched for something eloquent to match my lovely flower.
And I came up with this:
“The future will be better tomorrow.” ~ Dan Quayle
A keeper, for sure, because not only am I longing for spring, I’m in desperate need of
laughter. But I won’t say anything more about that because as a wise man once said:
“Verbosity leads to unclear, inarticulate things.” ~ Dan Quayle
Good news: Spring is here!
Bad news: That 11-degree-below-zero freeze we had last November killed a bunch of spireas, sumacs, and possibly the cherry tree.
Good news: Spring is here!
Bad news: The bind weed is back with a vengeance.
Good news: Spring is here!
Bad news: It’s been so rainy the past week it feels more like Alaska than Colorado.
GOOD NEWS: SPRING IS HERE!
Yesterday was 78 degrees but the weather people said today’s high would be 47 with snow/rain later. I realized I should get a photo of these brand-new daffodils before the snow got them. Sure enough, when I was out snapping pics a gust of wind blew in and the snow began to fall.
Look what I found blooming beneath my deck?
That’s right – call me Vinca.
