For me, the mystery is what-the-heck did I plant there? Did we move that? Will those bulbs survive the harsh winter with little protective snow cover?
I’ve stayed away from the blogging because of some chronic shoulder pain. I had a huge writing project at work and tried to avoid computer use when away from the office. I could knit, thank heaven, but mostly on things that are, for the moment, under the cone of silence. So boring.
But SPRING!! All you UK types have had lovely flowers for months. Not here in the upper midwest. But now – the mysteries of spring commence. Mr. Guy planted all 100 squill bulbs that I brought home last fall and ta-dah!
Two years ago, all my daffodils died over the winter, for no good reason. Daffodils are survivors – I never worry about them. I couldn’t believe that all of mine died. I ordered more bulbs and waited. And worried. But the March of the Daffodils returned! The early bloomers – next year, with luck, this bed will be packed with them.
Early spring flowers are subtle, for the most part. The Bloodroot makes slow and lovely progress. The leaf wrap itself around the flower bud, protecting it from our spring cold. Each day, it slowly opens to give the flower sunlight and warmth. I wish I were a better flower photographer.
Bloodroot is used in traditional Cherokee basket-making. I am fortunate enough to have a friend who is a Cherokee who makes baskets. (I hesitate to describe him as traditional….) This one is sitting on my kitchen table as I write. The color is from bloodroot.
We gave him a bunch of bloodroot for his garden – I hope it is thriving.
Wild ginger is another treat to watch in the early spring. Each stalk has a solitary reddish-brown flower that is hidden once the leaves open fully.
Species tulips are also tiny and sweet.
I do have the world’s ugliest full-size tulips. In general, tulips fizzle out after a few years, but the previous owners left these behind, and I cannot seem to kill them. This is the only phase in which I enjoy them. The flowers are red and yellow striped, a color combo that hurts my eyes. No doubt it was listed in a catalogue as a ‘prolific perennial.’
I hope your gardens are growing as well as your knitting.