A Long Wait Rewarded
When we lived in North Carolina much of the garden stayed green all year. If dormant plants weren’t poking through the tangle by February I was mourning their loss. Birds were already rehearsing meandery melodies sotto voce, practicing for full concert later in the season. Daffodils bloomed reliably, taking exit bows if too much heat drifted in during March.
Daffodil ‘Ice Follies’ around a small pool with a statue of Ariadne. Their trumpets fade to white as they age. Scouring rush shares the pond, crepe myrtle trunks in the background backed by a native yaupon holly hedge
It was easy to remember what plants were where because they were up and growing and demanding that you take note of their whereabouts. Springtime was a long desultory affair, each performer taking bows in turn. We reveled in the gifts of color as the season drifted by, renewing us. Every year we said this was the best spring ever.
Here is our southern spring parade.
Common flowering quince (Chaenomeles speciosa) begins blooming in January, joined by daffodils along the path, and hangs around till March. It’s full of angles and barbs, and it sulks if summer is too dry, but we loved the spark of color in the new year
Hellebore, or Lenten Rose, buds and leaves, poke from the ground in January and continue through spring
Magnolia ‘Leonard Messel’ is among the first magnolias to bloom
Meanwhile Bridal Wreath Spirea is turning the landscape to lace
Camellias begin in February, battling nighttime frosts that might damage flowers, but there always seems to be another bud ready to bloom
Forsythia blooms with camellias and spirea, while Malus ‘Prairiefire’ comes into bloom. Unfortunately. as the tree was maturing nicely, in 2011 Hurricane Irene twisted it into the ground
Magnolia ‘Jane’ was a reliable April bloomer
Early April an old and popular kurume azalea from Japan, ‘Coral Bells’ is backed by bridal wreath spirea and guarded by a mischievous imp we found in England and “tucked” into carry-on luggage for the ride home. We call him Puck in honor of the mischief-maker in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He is sitting atop a concrete milking churn
April brings azalea blooms for a solid month, here ‘George Lindley Tabor,’ an example of a southern Indian azalea that thrives in the South
A path in the woods planted with young azaleas after Hurricane Isabel in 2003 blew down our woods. Signpost says Windy Wicket in honor of the storm
And by May, people were fishing in our boat slip
Gardening in New Hampshire
Gardening in New Hampshire is different. February is Snow Plow Month. March is Snow Piles Leftover from February. April is March with a Tease. I now suspect that the origin of April Fools’ Day came from April in New Hampshire.
I was beginning to wonder what had happened to all those plants I had lovingly tended last year. Did nothing survive? All I could find was brown: sticks and tufts and ruts and holes.
The bed at the side of te house, sticks and the beginnings of brave flower bulbs
The bed in back, bare except for a lonely boxwood
The bed next to the patio.. . .you get the point. Note the rusty stork with an attitude looking over it
Piles of snow were stuck in place, the sky was mostly a smudge of gray, with an occasional wink of blue. The world had been black and white for so long I had forgotten what I’d planted the summer before. Did I still have a garden?
Gray skies upstage te flowering pear, an April stalwart
However, I now had another excuse for procrastinating: Gosh, I was anxious to get going in the garden, but I just couldn’t find anything to do.
Nothing for us to do, so we brought in the tree guys to cut dead limbs and grind them into mulch
When is something going to happen, I asked? Patience, advised daughter Susan, who has been gardening up here for twenty-odd years. The month of May will come soon and then you’ll see.
May? May? You mean I have to wait till May?
The only bright spot in the garden was a healthy, blooming lesser celandine that had tagged along with a shrub I’d brought up that, incidentally still looked like chipper fodder
The Month of May Blooms
And then May was here. In glorious prisms of color. Clouds backed off and snow piles disappeared. The garden unfolded like a bouquet from a magician’s sleeve. Each day was a new discovery: tulips, magnolia, azalea, crabapple, even little Johnny jump ups. What had been brown tufts were suddenly green and glowing, and, yes, blooming.
I spent so much time basking in rainbows, my great plans for tidying and refurbishing were put on hold with yet another rationalization: Enjoy the color now. Time enough to dig and transplant. Here I will share my enjoyment with you.
Tulips, tulips, tulips, we couldn’t keep our eyes off them
Azalea ‘Golden Lights’ gleams in the morning sun (though I notice lately it is reluctant to let go of spent blossoms)
A rosy crabapple planted years ago, a lovely surprise
Lilacs on old bushes, reaching for the sky
Our new ‘Elizabeth’ magnolia in full bloom over tulips ‘Daydream’, mugo pine, spirea ‘Glow Girl’, azaleas ‘Linda Stuart’ and daffodils in the background, with spent daffodils ‘Tete a Tete’ at left
‘Purple Sensation’ allium were truly a sensation, delectable lollipops
That empty side bed is starting to fill up
A lovely quince ‘Crimson and Gold’ that sputtered for years in North Carolina is blooming and growing here
Another view of the side bed, tiarella on steroids to the left, ‘Herman’s Pride’ lamium to the right, brunnera blooming behind the angel
Leaves of a young redbud ‘Pink Pearl’ gleam in the afternoon sun. No blooms this year
More of the Side Bed, with columbine, plants and seeds from Susan’s garden and allium. A giant bleeding heart from Lisa and Steven can just be seen in the background
Golden Alexander (zizia) takes over a patch of the patio bed
Even the privet hedge we chopped so mercilessly that neighbors questioned its chances of survival got into the swing of May. You just can’t kill a privet! It will need trimming soon
Here’s that rowdy side bed again, columbine from Susan and allium
We just couldn’t get enough of those tulips! ‘Daydream’ they’re called, and they bloom yellow first, then turn brilliant orange as they age
A closer look at ‘Daydream’ as it is going out. You know you’ve scored with a plant when the neighbors come by and tell you how cheery the place looks
But the rainbow wasn’t perfect.
A Surprise Freeze
Any gardener knows that once plants emerge and bloom, they are fair game for all that Mother Nature has to offer. In this case, it was a freeze down to 27 degrees in the middle of May.
They warned us, oh, they warned us, and I many vegetable and fruit growers spent the long night watering their crops. But my garden was sturdy shrubs and perennials that were rejoicing in balmy weather. In 35 years of North Carolina climate vicissitudes, only one native magnolia had suffered a spring blast, and rarely did our camellias disappoint.
So I felt pretty smug about ignoring the warnings.
Here are a couple of examples of what I found as the day after the freeze progressed.
‘Elizabeth’ magnolia, first to greet the morning sun in our garden after the freeze, didn’t have much of a chance
Aralia ‘Sun King’, also in full morning sun, looks dishraggy.
Azalea ‘Linda Stuart’, whose soft pink buds normally open to white blooms, bypassed full opening and went straight to droopy-crispy. Since their full-sun exposure would probably not give them an easy life through the years, I moved them to a partly shady natural area and they immediately settled in.
As I moved around the garden, I found more damaged plants, all of them growing in full sun. They are, I am happy to report, all recovering nicely. Plants growing in partial or full shade were not affected.
No doubt the great soil, a fifty-fifty mix of compost and loam, that we had delivered last spring played a part in the quick recovery of damaged plants — and for the great celebration this May.
We’ve just had another load of compost and loam delivered, so I’d best close and start shoveling, for the garden is already busting out in June.
A Last Delightful Surprise in May
Last year the lupines I tried languished and I vowed I’d never plant another lupine. Until this one popped up. It keeps getting better and better each day
A Heron's Garden 
I will never tire of seeing your NC gardens. Sorry the pretty lady in the front pond couldn’t have moved to NH. I can picture myself walking up the beautiful path to your front door. .. and then there were the many luncheons on the gazebo. Such sweet memories. Now I can be jealous of your wonderful sweet lilacs and envy your pretty tulips. 🙂