As I do most mornings, I took a walk about the garden, stopping first in Penny’s Arbor House (aka Papa’s Tree House, according to grandson Ezra). A wren was searching about for her for breakfast, As my eyes took in the lush, green if weedy expanse of lawn, I could see the havoc the resident herd wreaked upon several plants.
I heard an oriole high in the canopy. I saw him yesterday, wearing his bright orange cloak. He was perched, quite regally on a pole just a few feet from the Wildlife Habitat sign – a Kodak moment if ever there was. I no sooner turned on my camera when he flitted away, resuming his melodic sonnet upon a branch on the edges of the canopy. If you look closely, you can see his silhouette.
As I looked down on the arbor plot I saw that, for the first time here, the trillium have bloomed. It was a strategic purchase at a past garden club member’s plant sale two year’s ago. They are under their own miniature canopy of Mayapples and Ladies Mantle. No “apples”, yet, but a widening spread of green umbrellas just waiting to cover any May blooms that might come.
The first of the tree peonies are in bloom. The sweetly dressed girls in magenta gowns arrived first to the garden party with the soft pink skirted lasses in the wings, waiting their turn to shine, while Laddie has just about finished his turn on the dance floor. Don’t you just love the excitement of prom season in the garden?
I wandered about, like Wee Willie Winkie, upstairs and downstairs in my nightgown (only I was still in my pajamas with a yellow rain slicker on – a fashion trendsetter if ever there was one).
A gaggle of geese, who take room and board at the neighbor’s stream, flew overhead; morning rush hour traffic on the Cutoff. Either that or they were admiring my yellow rain slicker. I fear a pair of geese have muscled their way into Mr. and Mrs. Mallard’s territory. I haven’t seen the ducks in several weeks, but, have seen a pair of geese in among the cattails and murky water. I’ve also seen a muskrat taking a bath and immediately thought of Wind in the Willows.
The bleeding hearts are beginning to fade. I made a mental note (never a wise idea) that I need to cut the faded stems in hope of another strand or two of hearts for the blossoming girls to wear to the prom. I’ll do that tomorrow, I thought to myself, only my neighbor may have heard me say it out loud, for just then I caught an intoxicating fragrance behind me, in front of me, and to the far side of the house, where the lily of the valley are at long last in bloom.
So, dear friend, you might have guessed that I took out my thumb and fingers and began to snip, snip away, fashioning a most welcome spring bouquet. This one’s for you, Sallie,
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