Pink echinacea
She sits on a pink echinacea flower. Her fur clings to her small frame, wet from the brief shower that has just come through. The rain is a preamble to what is to come if the weather forecast is to be believed. It talks of snow. The sky, a flat grey suggests it. The air temperature is in single figures, dancing towards the negatives. If last weekend was a weekend of first, of hints of spring, then this weekend is a retreat back to the winter. I am reminded that spring is a season of patience. That patience is what is required most from a gardener at this time of year.
The creature resting on the pink echinacea is a bumble bee. I am pretty sure she is queen who has left her nest to forage when it felt warm enough to do so and she has got caught with the change in weather. Her nest might be in the mass of undergrowth that sits along one of the fence lines, or maybe she emerged from one of the perfect circles in the soil I found when I gardened earlier in the week. I always wonder what I would find if I was small enough to crawl down such a hole. Maybe a warm nest slowly filling with the next generation of bees. I read Dave Goulson “A sting in the tail” over the winter and from it I learn that my queen who is out foraging will be the first bumblebee of her season. As she is the first, she will do all the work that is involved in maintaining the nest until she has enough bees to help her. The next generation will be small, emerging fast so that the workload can be shared. The Queen then focuses on laying until she tires. At some point, later when spring is now summer and autumn is a hint in the air, a new heir to the throne will be announced. This new Queen will take over perhaps this nest or she will start her own elsewhere. A mating will occur. Summer turns to autumn, the new Queen hibernates and then we all winter. The cycle begins again.
I had gardened last week. Cleaned up a few beds. Made mental notes that I should really write down, of who should be moved where and what I can plant in gaps. I am always too confident in my abilities to remember my plans. I do often forget my intentions, which often sees me just shove something in, mostly due to time constraints or a plant becoming to big for its pot. I am endeavoring to correct this by taking things slower this season. I have not started my seedlings this year as I always start them too soon. They are then placed outside too soon because I have too many and then a frost nips them. I aim to plant on days that, Maramataka the Maori Lunar, calendar suggests are good for planting. Today, Sunday, was my planting day. Despite the lunar guidance, the weather says other things and I refrain. I congratulate myself on my restraint. Everything will get done in time. Maybe I am becoming a patient gardener.
So my weekend of gardening doesn’t come to be. Instead I spend Saturday catching up with friends, where we walk in the botanical gardens between rain showers. There is a quick show and tell of my garden with another friend, followed by the gossip of gardeners. We talk of plants that have been purchased and things we wish to do in our garden. We discuss how fatal online plant shopping is and how you need to make the most of postage so add in a couple of extra plants into your trolley. Sunday I take off the best way I know how. I escape into a book. A book not related to gardening but a story about observation, quiet, solace, all things that I find weirdly relatable to gardening. I start on the first page at 8am and just nibble away until bed time. It feels like such a treat. The weekend passes and patience pays off, later in the week it is warm again and I delve into the garden refreshed and revived.