5/3/15
(written 4/2/18 via transcontinental air travel)
Today, I’m busy dreaming (and I dream in living color – none of that black and white stuff for me) of bouquets of seasons past and of getting back to my own yard to plant, putter and sow………….. But, first I have to deal with what’s on the ground……….
I decided today that Mother Nature’s first name has just got to be Mary – for all of you that follow my occasionally offbeat logic, you’ll know why……. because Mary, yes, Mary is being QUITE contrary and not letting my garden (or yours) grow – and forget all those silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row cause they are not gonna be there bursting forth as I had so happily conceived would happen when I get off this plane and drive home………………….
I’m presently stuck on an airplane, one of my very least favorite things to do (unless of course, I’m on my way to France or Italy). Before I left, I combed the LAX terminal for something interesting to page through on the way and settled on the Spring issue of Garden Design. Even though I have been in California for the last 10 days and have enjoyed seeing all my favorite and resuscitating signs of life, so acutely needed for me at this time of any year but especially this year after successive weeks of snow covers in March and now April, I’ve been living like nobody’s business and completely contrary to my environs on the east coast but mostly with the idea that I’d soon be getting back to my own garden for fun and games of my very own.
Yes, we are indeed, according to the calendar anyway, heading right into my favorite time of the year in and around where I reside – those 7 months of extreme joy and vigor, lucidity and elatedness and morning after morning when I open my door before 6 am and wander around in my yard looking at all the magical changes that occurred overnight and what new blossoms I can expect to welcome in the new day.
And, while a few late Winters ago I was indeed able to plant ranunculus in my porch-covered window boxes in early March, a year which created a false-marker for me to in all subsequent years to run out and search desperately for them during the first week of March each year afterward as all of you who follow my pictures well know, this year Mother Nature is NOT cooperating and apparently being quite contrary. And there, in that last line is the essence of the name of this post. And hence, I’m here to posit today that Mother Nature’s first name must be Mary and that she is in all of her obstinace being quite contrary and not letting all of us desperados, those of us who are dying for the fresh breezes, light fragrant air and warming soils of early Spring to shake out all of the cobwebs, pull us out of doors each and every morning sans coats, boots, hats and gloves and bad attitudes (I’m talking about myself here of course) and to grab a trowel, some chartreuse gloves that breathe and get going.
I had a day or two the week of that very first snowstorm on March 7 where Harley and I puttered around in the back yard, I hit her tennis balls without a jacket on, and I cleaned up a bunch of old broken pots and mess that was leftover from last Fall. I cut back my roses and went around snooping for several days in a row at the emerging daffodils. I was heartened. And then, just as the clutch went in and I was ready to shift gears with a giddy sneer at Old Man Winter, and perhaps mutter a couple of off-color remarks about his general impact upon me, wham, we got it.
The next day I eyed my broken lilac bushes which were covered with emerging buds with a sad sigh. It was just a couple of years ago that I had had a really lovely flush of lilacs as shown above and ran around avec clippers and filled one of my florist pails with a most full, lush, huge and fragrant bouquet. I was really happy.
Well, you all know what has happened in the last 4 weeks so I won’t go into it. Let’s just say that the snow shovel is still out on the side porch and even though the calendar page has been turned over to April – and we are more than 10 days past the equinox, we are not out of the woods yet. Lucky for me, we had this trip planned to California in order to spend Easter with our kids, who have most happily (and smartly?) abandoned the east coast for more pleasant and temperate climes. I did want to go for Easter but just as importantly, at this time of year I need to go somewhere where I can reassure myself that life is in fact still living in the outdoor spaces.
So, I did indeed spend the last 10 days wandering around in the land of growing, flowering and fruiting plants and ogle in wonder and deep appreciation for all that has been gifted on that magical coastline where mountains and oceans mingle and everything grows so effortlessly that is called California. Honestly, it is miraculous to drive around and see people’s front yards filled with trees that are heavily laden with oranges, lemons limes and pomelos (yes, Ryan) and to wander idly by and be enchanted with the fragrance of citrus blossoms. Honestly, (I said that twice) it’s better than any alternative hallucinogen you can find – not that I’ve ever tried any. And, you should see the rose foliage there – no spraying and the absolute most glossiest, happiest green and abundant leaves you’ve ever seen! It doesn’t take much to get me going, does it?
Anyway, I saw what I went to see, including my two now-western, NY-abandoning kiddos and all my favorite sights – the Santa Barbara Mission Rose Garden, oodles of hummingbirds, all those citrus trees, the 37 acre planted paradise that is Lotusland, iris, magnolias, bougainvillea impertinently adorning even the shoddiest spots in and around LAX, broad swaths of wisteria and, well, I could go on. Suffice it to say that I filled my coffers up – with all the images that feed me and also with the idea that I was going back home and that that dastardly scene I had left on March 24 would have instantly vanished and converted itself into a pleasing welcome of real Spring. Trouble is, my coffers (as in vitamin D) don’t stay filled, they drain quickly and need to be replenished near daily.
Well, we all know that it snowed about 6 inches in my surrounds overnight last night. And so, while I didn’t think I’d need to, I found myself instinctively directed right into Hudson News and that copy of Garden Design just instantly jumped off the shelf and into my hands seemingly on its very own. We all do have the instincts to get what we need right within our own little psyches if we just listen……….
And so, here I am flying along (1 hour and 29 minutes left to go) and as I found myself reading the letter from the editor about how he’s planning his new garden at his new craftsman style house, I just about opened the window, jumped out of the plane and took albatross airways (who knows this reference?) back to the left coast.
Is it sad or stupid that I still feel optimistic that when I get home it’s going to turn into some magical fairyland in my backyard? That was a rhetorical question – I know the answer. I know that sooner or later that it will. I have had visions of all the projects I’d like to do this year for months now. There are stone walls to extend, beds to plant, roses to replace.
Well, I’m coming in for a landing soon – within 30 minutes I’ll be back on the ground at Newark – that place that when you approach you wonder at – on one hand if you get a glimpse of Manhattan on a good day you’re elated and all awestruck and on others you wonder why you’d call this area home. But, I’ve been a Jersey girl for 63+years now and it’s hard to pull up those tough old roots of mine.
I guess I will go home and take it as it comes. I’ll ruminate and growl as long as I have to. And then one morning, hopefully one not too far away, I’ll awake in the 5 o’clock hour and stumble down the stairs with Harley. And, before I get to the door to let her out, I’ll just know in my heart that something’s changed for good – that Winter has taken its final leave and that Mary, Mary is no longer of the mind to be quite contrary, but has changed her tune, and is ready now to let the splendors of Springtime come floating in on her magic carpet ride.
