You know how you felt, as a kid, when you grew your very first bean-in-a-cup? Or the first time you saw newborn kittens and/or puppies? That moment of squee married to fascination? I get that feeling every spring.
Every. Single. Spring.
This spring is extra special since it's the first one I haven't come out of winter all sad and grumpy. Instead I'm perky and raring to go.
This doesn't mean I've planted a single seed, though. I've been distracted by all of those other projects I'm still working on like finishing Caitlin's wall unit, baking bread and making yogurt and dabbling in making personal care products. (I made deodorant and it works like a charm! I'm steeping vanilla beans in jojoba oil and lavender in witch hazel! Lotion, moisturizer, toner and lip balm aren't far behind.)
So after I finished putting a few coats of lacquer on Caitlin's wall cubes, I went wandering around in the back yard. Eric thought I was crazy for hanging around in the blustery cold, peering at plants, but when I reminded him that I'm a druid at heart, he concurred and returned indoors. I kept poking about, checking for signs of new life and found them all over the place!
And nothing compares to the thrill of seeing plants I've ripped out of the ground and relocated putting out new growth.
"Yay! I haven't killed it!"
"Woo! You survived!"
"Well hello there, peonies!"
Yes. I talk to my plants. And cheer for them. And threaten to rip them out of the ground if they don't shape up.
I'm a benevolent dictator, for the most part.
From the looks of it, it should shape up to be a fabulous spring...if all of those newly relocated plants bloom this year, that is! Columbine are popping up all over (as are weeds, of course) along with a host of other plants. The lavenders I relocated are alive as are the peonies, catmint, smoke plants, sedum, autumn sage, agastache, prairie winecups, bleeding hearts, etc., etc., etc. I am pleased with all of the work I put in last fall and am looking forward to seeing the results of that work!
You know you're a real gardener when you can walk into almost any garden center, look at the thousands of plants on display and mentally tick off your list:
"Yup, killed that one. And that. And those. Oh! I remember that one! It was so pretty!"
The flip side is that you're always willing to try again. Maybe this time it will be happier over there?
As always, no matter how many I have, there's always room for one more. Or fifteen more.
Those bags of daylilies and dahlias begged to come home with me. Seriously.