Signs of Spring

Up come the flowers, out comes the camera. Welcome crocus. I'm just warming up.

Spring Squall and Rushing Away Unfavorable Weather

We headed into the garden for some spring cleanup and very early planting this past weekend. I haven't hauled out the good camera yet...but here are some snapshots of events.

We cleaned up the twigs and branches from the ice storm back in the early winter. Some of the larger branches remain under the snow. We began clearing straw from the gardens. In the first picture you can see the tender bulbs poking through. Some of the bulbs were coming up white, choked from sunlight and chlorophyll production by the ground covering. Chomping at the bit in the 50 degree weather, I ran to the local garden center and purchased some very early to plant seeds. the packages say they can be put in as soon as the ground could be worked. Swiss chard, forget-me-nots, Bachelor Buttons, and sweet pea went into the ground as the weather turned. Wind howled and an unexpected snow squall scared us back into the house. Oh well, I know spring weather is really just around the corner now.

My seeds from Territorial came in the mail today. It's still another couple of months before I can get those in the ground, but I'm prepared.

I'm also eager to write about gardening again. This summer, I will be teaching a class on photographing and writing about nature at the Peabody Mill Environmental Center in Amherst, NH.

Today I'm back indoors with temps hovering around 30 degrees fahrenheit. This is a good day for prepping photos to hang at Uncanoonuc Mt. Perennials. Every year I am lucky enough to get space in the garden centers cabin to hang my work. I'm raring to get into their display gardens again for more camera work.

Every year around this time, my daughter and I chant "Melt Snow Melt!" Won't you please join us? It is very cathartic.

Spring!

I hit the garden today...just a little spring cleanup. The snow has melted from the majority of my beds. I don't think I've ever been out this early in the season before. But I've got big plans this year. My decade of gardening, interviews with fellow gardeners and last fall's publication of my book have inspired me. I feel like I have hit a pinnacle as a gardener. I'm ready to really trust my instincts and to run with my ideas.

I've got two pathways that need a lot of work and this is where I'll start. I've mustered the courage to try the mint in these areas, despite their invasive tendencies. I want pathways that my daughter will smell when she walks on them. I want the scents to trigger her memory all her life. Whenever she smells mint, she will think of gardening with mom.

We returned the fairy objects to the fairy garden today. My daughter has big plans for this garden. Mainly, she plans for the fairies to return. Last year they brought her a shiny pink marble that resembles a star sapphire. They also brought a necklace of tiny sea green glass. She wants the fairies to come back early this year. She worked hard for two hours laying out marble pathways to the two fairy houses that remained standing despite the ravages of winter snows and wind. I'm sure those fairies will return.

And this year, last year's vegetable garden will become a pumpkin patch. This is my third year vegetable gardening. The vegetables will return to the bed they originally occupied two years ago and will also be spread among perennial plantings. A gardener friend of mine lets her vegetables run wild -- tomatoes especially spread to unlikely wildflower beds and beyond. I like the idea of walking among the flowers and finding a surprise edible along the way. We'll see how well planning out "random" vegetable plantings goes.

Growing season spreads before me with grand opportunities. I hope that the snow melts faster!

Displaced Creativity

Groundhog's Day makes me feel like spring is around the corner - even when the groundhog sees his shadow (as he did this year).. and even when it's really not just around the corner (I do live in NH after all and we don't see spring until summertime...)

I didn't get the greenhouse I desired this winter, but I have kept myself busy. I am a home decorator at heart. I try to bring my garden indoors in my design. I hang my garden images, but I also try to use nature inspired color and themes. This winter, I have been redoing my stairwell. Unfortunately, I didn't think to get a "before" image, but here is the after...I hope that it stirs your creativity.

Don't despair those in the northern hemisphere! We'll be in the garden soon!

Flowers and Tradition

I have written in the past about flowers and tradition. It amazes me how interwoven flowers are with many of our celebrations. Yet, I think that most of us do not give much thought to this. With Valentine's Day approaching, I think it is appropriate to explore this phenomenon in more depth and in upcoming weeks, I hope to come back to it a few times. But today...I am going to focus on how special flowers can make an occasion for a child.

This past weekend, my five-year-old daughter performed in her first play. "Don't forget to get her flowers," another stage-mom reminded me. "The kids love flowers. They get very excited." And it's true. Don't we all love to get flowers? But why does this little tradition excite even a five-year-old? Wouldn't just taking her out for an ice cream (as my parents did) or hot chocolate (as we do here in New England because it is so darn cold right now) be enough?

Here are my thoughts... #1 getting flowers seems so very grownup. #2 the bright colored flowers are special in themselves and remind the little ones of the "specialness" of an occasion. #3 having something tangible to remind us of a special occasion for a few weeks keeps the excitement going just a bit longer.

I wonder, are flowers just appropriate to give to a little girl - especially a little princess-type girl who has just performed in Cinderella? Would a little boy like to get flowers too? (I'll leave this to mothers of boys to answer for me.)

In the past, I have given my daughter flowers for Easter, for trips to the Farmer's Market as "just because" the flowers were fresh and beautiful gifts, and for ballet recitals. Flowers are interwoven into our lives mainly because of my deep love for gardening. My little one understands that it is important to hold nature in high regard and to cherish the bright living jewels it gives us in the form of flowers. But I think this appreciation has also come outside the garden -- from the traditions we are slowly establishing that weave plants into her life. I hope that she will always see a bouquet of flowers as something special, to include in special occasions, to show pride and love.

My Bit of Winter Sunshine

I am one of those people affected by Seasonal Affective Disorder. When winter comes to New England, I just want to sleep through the season. I drag myself out of bed and follow some steps to shake off the winter blues. In addition to regular exercise (I find yoga most helpful,) I take vitamin D supplements and use a sunlamp.

My sunlamp is one of my most prized possessions. It is about ten years old now. It's a large box, about the size of a small suitcase. When I turn it on, the room takes on a surreal glow that is a bit eerie. I sit about 3 yards from the lamp while I do my computer work and slowly feel myself begin to perk. It's not exactly like gardening in the sunshine, but it is a close enough facsimile of sunshine that I can close my eyes and pretend I'm really at the beach if I want. Behind my eyelids I see that telltale glow that one gets when sunbathing.

During warmer months, I sit out in a sunroom that look out at my gardens. This time of year, I move to an interior room where I won't see the snow. The room is painted a warm sunshine yellow and my sunlamp warms the color further. The color reminds me of sunflowers.

My sunlamp is also useful for still life picture taking and unusual portrait taking. It rakes subjects with a warm light and help create unique shadows.

I hope that I"ll never have to go back to my life without my little box. This morning, as ice once again pelts my house, I sit here with a cup of coffee, listening to my five-year-old giggling as she plays a computer game. I let the sunshine absorb me and transport me to my garden sunshine happy place.

A Winter Test

My "green thumb" was tested last week during the New England ice storm. I am primarily an outdoor gardener, but I have a few prized houseplants that I have nursed to healthy heights. In the past, I have purchased houseplants to get me through the winter - to add a little greenery to the white and gray that surrounds us in New Hampshire this time of year. Every year, after a month or so of care, I slowly forget my houseplants. I stop watering them. I stop feeding them. I stop talking to them, stroking their leaves, and moving them around the house to cheer them up. But one plant in particular has not cared how I treat it. My peace lily is about four feet across. It was given to me by my friend Sara when I moved to this house four years ago. It is a symbol of our friendship. It is also a symbol of nature's strength because no matter how it is treated it thrives, giving up beautiful white flowers in my most tiresome winter moments.

Last year, I made a concerted effort to change my houseplant habits. After reading a book called "Growing Me" by Judith Handelsman, I had a new-found respect for my potted greenery. My houseplants have grown immensely in a year. Plants that languished without care for years, took on new life, blooming and slowly creeping out of pots. Last winter, my peace lily flowered multiple times instead of just once like it has in the past.

Last week, we lost power for four days. As my house grew colder than the outdoors, I watched my peace lily whither. While we stayed warm in a family member's apartment, I left my houseplants behind. On day three of the cold, we gathered the cats from the house and brought them with us. The houseplants were still left behind. On day four (before the power returned) my husband and I came to the house to check the temperatures of the pipes and otherwise make sure the house was safe. I walked past the peace lily. It looked awful and cried out to me "Goodbye, Melissa." I responded, "I'm sorry, I can't help you! Please try to hold on!" It was heartbreaking.

A very good friend of mine lost all of his tropical fish when we all lost power. Last year, we watched his tanks getting built into the basement walls when he had the room finished. With pride, my friend added coral and brightly colored beauties to the aquariums. Last week, we went to their house for dinner the night the power went out. They have a gas stove and we don't, so a simple meal was prepared in a darkened kitchen. Our kids played "watch the monster!" They ran into the basement with flashlights and asked me to join them, making shadows on the walls for entertainment. I turned my light to the fish. A clown fish bobbbed up and down. "Help me!" He cried. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you," I replied. He was gone the next morning.

When the power returned to my house. Most of my plants, with the exception of the ferns (surprisingly) appeared despondent. "I am so sorry!" I thought as I looked around the room while the heat slowly rose. I stuck a finger in the soil of each pot. They were still slightly damp, but very cold. I walked around the house a couple of times that day, feeling the life of my houseplants, but unsure which way they would turn. The next morning, the peace lily had two leaves perked up. "I'm going to give you just a little water buddy." Over the course of the day, slowly, each plant perked up. "I thought you were goners guys. Thanks for coming back!" I felt the life in the house again.

Living without power for a few days brings a heavy heart. Sure, we had a place to go, but we obviously missed the conveniences of modern living in our own space. But among the worst of all, trudging through our empty, lifeless house was terrible. There were no sounds , no refrigerator humming or heater pumping. Beyond that, there was also no pulse - by that I mean there was no feeling of this shell being our home. Large tree limbs had fallen around us. The rooms were dark and we were unsure when that would change. The houseplants stood as a symbol of mother nature's test and of a slowing pulse of life.

Over this past weekend we received about two feet of snow. While I was shoveling walkways this morning, I thought about the plants under the snow. I could feel their pulse. They are resting up for their spring duties. The snow serves as a blanket, unlike the deadly ice before it that despite its twinkling brilliance served only as a threat of nature's threatening powers. It is my goal this winter to keep feeling the pulse of nature. I want to feel that cosmic thread with my plants, wherever they are and in whatever stage of life they are maintaining this time of year. As I do every year, I will get through this test. Maybe if I am more clever, I can learn to enjoy this season.