Spring drew on … and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested
the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.
― Charlotte Brontë, “Jane Eyre”
It is amazing that, despite the fact that I’ve gardened for nearly half a century, I still experience the anticipation of spring as passionately as I did all those years ago. It is as though I am a child again in front of the candy case, Nature the shop-keeper, waiting to see what new sweet thing she will display next to my wondering eyes. To this day, I am still thrilled beyond words to see the first signs of life re-emerging from the soil in the form of bright green tops and tiny wispy leaves.
The only thing that tops that is spotting the first sign of growth from something I planted last fall and that will hopefully add new color and interest to the garden for years to come.
None of this is foreign to anyone who gardens. As the flower beds drift slowly into sleep in the fall, we are already thinking of next year and planning what new members of the vast botanical clan we will adopt and add to our own growing families. Sometimes, this involves removing something old in order to replace it with something new. But the cycle of life continues unabated anywhere there is something green pushing up through the soil.
Last year, I introduced some Iris reticulata to one flower bed here. If I’ve learned anything from gardening it is that one must be eternally patient and let Nature proceed at her own pace. Nothing in a garden can be rushed, and it is all a study in “wait and see.” More often than not, the reward for that patience is wonderful, as it was in the case of these tiny irises whose flashy yellow-throated deep blue petals greeted me for the first time last week.
A few days ago, I was shopping at a local discount store where I came across packages of perennials. I picked up a box containing a peony tuber and there on the side was printed the caveat to “be patient … it may take two to three years before you see flowers.” In all my years of gardening, I’ve never seen that stated so directly on a plant’s packaging. Not exactly the best way to “influence gardeners,” as this could discourage anyone new to the process from buying that peony or any other bulb or tuber that bears that disclaimer. But yes, gardening is an exercise in patience. And if you don’t approach it patiently, you will be disappointed, as Nature has never been in a hurry to impress us. But when she does, you know it and you realize that it was worth the wait.
Not far away from the mini-irises that are only now proving their worth, where there had been nothing to speak of just a few days before, the tops of daylily leaves were now visible, their new green fresh and vibrant against the still-cold brown soil. Other unnameable things are waking up, too, giving the recently barren garden landscape a new sheen, a dusting, if you will, of green in all its wondrous permutations. As the sun casts her net wider and lingers longer now since we’ve “sprung ahead” again, the earth is soaking in the heat and will soon also take in the moisture the clouds will share. Yes, it might very well be snow again, the “poor man’s fertilizer.” But to the soil and to the things that grow in it, moisture is moisture, and they don’t discriminate.
As we age, the early signs of spring bring us joy for other reasons. Winters have grown more difficult to deal with, which is why so many folks my age migrate south with the birds each fall, with some even making permanent homes there. For those of us who stay, those first green shoots signal the end of a season that, while beautiful in its own right, might provide us with more challenges than we are now able to deal with. Thus it is also with great relief that we see the sure signs that winter is losing its grip and spring will soon take precedence, meaning that the shovels and scrapers will soon go back into hiding and the hoes and pruners will take their place on the shed wall or in the utility closet.
A neighbor who has been undergoing therapy for awhile now hopes to be able to get back out to her flower bed this year, too. So it’s not unreasonable to say that spring is especially precious to those of us who aren’t as nimble as we once were, serving as a goal to be achieved, and one well worth striving for. Spring delights the child in us, pulls us forward inexorably, much as it does the first shoots out of the soil or the first buds on the trees. It makes us momentarily forget our limitations and invites us along with everyone else to celebrate the renewal of life. And where better to do that than in a garden?
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