A Different Kind of Tired and Achey This Spring

I'm not saying that it was a bad idea to work part-time at a local garden center this spring. After all, I really need to save up money to put in a fence this year. And I get a discount. And I am allowed to set aside plants and anything else I want in a "holds" area so I can buy them next time I work.

As a bonus, I get to talk to other gardeners and pick their brains. Yesterday I spoke with a lovely young man in his 70's (yes, that's what I meant to say--he had a very youthful spirit) for almost half an hour on designing with hostas. Today I met a guy who grew squash vines across his lawn just for the foliage. (He picked up the squash and moved it every time he mowed.) How fun is that?

But on gorgeous weekends like these, I miss spending time in my own garden. I hurried home today to get some pictures of the goings-on that are going on without me. The 'White Emporer' tulips are blooming. Cherry, pear and apple trees all have flower buds, and perennials like ligularia are popping up out of the ground.

All is not clean and beautiful spring in my yard, however. Beds need to be mulched, the purple ninebark and the 'Northstar' dwarf cherry need to switch positions. Several dozen other undone chores also greet my eyes when I pull into the driveway with my legs aching and my face dusty. It makes my heart sink, at least momentarily.

And then I happen upon the 'Jack Frost' brunnera, blooming its heart out in the slanting rays of the setting sun. And I finally figure out that the little spears of green coming up in two different places must be the red Asiatic lilies that I rescued from work. I had moved them once after the intial planting because I was afraid that they were struggling in too much sun, and they promptly died back entirely. Now, they are coming up in both places.

Best of all, I was pulling a few weeds yesterday when a bright spear of yellow foliage caught my eye. "No way," I thought, even as I dug steadily and carefully around it. Sure enough, I unearthed a piece of iris rhizome from about 5 inches down. I carefully replanted it at a more appropriate depth and then went inside to put up my tired feet, happy that I will not have to beg more variegated iris from my grandmother this year.

It's a lot easier to ignore the ugly when your garden gives you beautiful little gifts like these.