It's been a wonderful spring here, fecund and fruitful. Jamieson's Folly commences, slowly but surely. Preschool is done; I now have a mini-me to help dig in the garden. Our little corner of the world blooms with late spring splendor. The rhubarb begs to be picked. Seedlings have emerged from the sleeping soil in Andy's vegetable garden. Our raspberry bushes are crusted with tiny green berries.
Even the flower beds look particularly lush. Thanks to a gentle winter, all my perennials have returned. This is my purple and yellow season in the beds. It's been a long haul, getting these beds to this point. We started eight years ago with no real clue what we were doing. We've killed a lot of innocent plants on the way. But things have settled in and sent out roots and showers of seeds. Even my woodland bed looks happy for the very first time.
The process encourages me. What started out tentative has become something wonderful, a place to reflect, to be quiet, to be together. Our daughter has come to love gardening. Our happiest weekends are spent digging in our gardens, ferreting out weeds, pruning back shrubs, removing spent flowers. I'm hopeful the results here will be mirrored in my results with Jamieson's Folly, that what is worthwhile will thrive, that I'll know what to plant where and what to snip off.