This isn’t exactly a garden post: this is a “I yearn to be outside all day again” post. This is about the latest inhabitant of my little oasis. No, not that one. This one:
Beautiful, isn’t she? She’s been hanging out around the back yard all winter. Maybe she’s been waiting for the fish to come back or maybe Akira has made the moles easy picking for her. Or maybe she just likes the view. But just when I think she’s found a better hunting ground, there she is, sitting on a fencepost or swooping past the nursery window to perch on the porch eaves.
Some days when the sun is just right, she really glows. Her tail takes on a warm rust color and her cream belly seems to reflect the sun. And she always seems to patient and content, as if there were nowhere in the world she’d rather be than just where she is.
This morning was the first time I really had a chance to capture her. Usually just as I’ve attached the zoom lens, she’s disappeared into the sky. But today my hawk spent hours at the top of this tree, quietly watching the world wake up.
I suppose I’m a little jealous of her. Last year the cold didn’t slow me down, but this year getting outside is a little more of an endeavor. Akira, the little Rosebud and I are spending a lot of time looking out the windows and talking about spring. Which isn’t such a bad thing – it’s good to have a plan when it comes to gardening. But this year, I don’t think spring can come too soon. I’m ready to set out and explore too.
I know, I haven’t posted in quite a while. Well, I haven’t gardened in quite a while either. Perhaps you remember my pitifully short garden to do list from last year? I do. It haunts me. Daily. And in my mind it has grown exponentially.
But I’ve been a tad bit busy. Since my little Rose (what else?) was born in July, I have managed to get into the garden roughly four times. You see, there are many (surprisingly many) things one can do with an infant tied strategically to one’s chest but if gardening is one of those things, well I haven’t figured out how. But the little Rose did sit in her bouncy chair in September for a few minutes while I pulled weeds (until I realized I was pulling with a tad too much enthusiasm and the little one had a head full of dirt). Then in October I spent half an hour doing my winter pruning in a mad effort to take down the roses; in November I finally moved the daisies; and in December I emptied three of the five bags of mulch sitting in my driveway. Ta-da.
By New Year’s Eve I had drawn multiple plans for next year’s garden and had a head full of dreams.
Some of those dreams involve a tiny trowel and pail for my little helper. Others involve the daisies.
I was very excited for this particular transplant.
The daisies had been growing radically taller than the juniper and Japanese maple bordering them, embarrassing my little tree and shrubs in their white-petaled exuberance. Finally I decided on a spot to move these hardy flowers: just outside the tidy borders of the mulch that surrounds the pond. Right now the remains of the daisies look like little renegades, just toeing the line of mulch. But to my way of thinking, this was the first step to what will be a glorious cut-flower bed later this summer. I’m mentally picking out mass plantings in such a way that I’m hoping to ultimately have blooms from the first yellow daffodils and tulips in March and April to the last pansies of December. Lantana. Coreopsis. Black-eyed Susans. Thick lamb’s ear around the feet of a little white bench… ahhh. Just saying the names is a mantra more relaxing than any yoga class (as if I had time for that either).
Will it work out? Who knows. But on days when the clouds are hanging so low that even the dog will only hang half her body outside her little door, this girl’s gotta dream about the garden.