It is the first day of Spring and it is exactly like you’d like the first day of spring to be, here in Nashville. The sun is shining, but it’s cool out and the breeze still has a bite of winter. Thanks to the arrival of the new lilac bush, I was able to look at it and look at another bush in my yard and say “Oh, hey, I have a lilac right here, too.” I guess that should not surprise me. It looks like, at one point, they tried to have as many flowering things in the yard as they could. And I think two in the yard will be lovely.
The peonies they left are starting to sprout. I don’t see any signs of the ones I planted last fall yet, though.
My hope for this weekend is to get that bed cleaned up and planted, all except for the echinacea to come. And I want to get the garden tilled, but that means getting beds measured out and marked off. Walking around the yard is such a treat. The roses that I trimmed this winter look great and have all put out new leaves. The rose my dad had to cut back to one lone green stick seemed to have survived as well and now it’s one green prickly stick coming out of the ground with three leaves. The pear tree just breaks my heart. It is obviously half dead and way larger than a pear tree needs to be, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t covered in flowers. I’ve come to think of it as the crusty old man of the yard. I imagine him spending long days grouching to the pine by the well, who is also enormous, but seems more cheerful, as if having the pump house near him is happy company. Like a little pet or something.
Even the old daffodils have started to bloom. I’m excited to see what the blooms look like, but I have a feeling that they’re going to be small, which will crack me up, considering how large the daffodils are. At least it explains why they didn’t bloom the same time as the neighbors’. They’re not the same type as the neighbors’.
It’s hard not to feel glad when spring is in the air and flowers are in bloom.
Some folks call today ‘Lady Day,” which of course got me thinking of Lady Day, herself. And another season.
Though I like Ella Fitzgerald’s version so much better.
But this is the version that always, always makes me think of summer.