As I look out the window part of me wonders and worries a little. I am thinking about how the garden might look like in 24 hours. Strong winds are predicted and while we are not sitting in the brunt of it (thoughts to peeps in those areas) one still feels nervous. Rain is falling and a wind is stirring. There is the talk of 24 degrees and 50 km winds. It feels like a confusing mess, an extreme version of 4 seasons in one day. It adds a unique undercurrent of nervousness to the day.
The garden as I look out my rain splattered window is cracking along regardless. The lush green of spring is on full display and I admire pops of colour that are emerging as flowers bloom. Each season there is always something different that captures my heart and this year it seems to be the colour orange. I know weird right? I think it is about contrast. The contrast of the green background of the garden against the lushness of orange. It sings in a way that I think would only work in spring. I find it especially heartening on a grey day like today and as I look out the window my eye is automatically drawn to the vibrant ranunculus that are currently flowering. For some reason I have been incredibly precious about my ranunculus Potting them up in pots and then saving the corns (when I remember) to re plant in the year to come. I realised this year I need to let go of this, as I noticed that my potted ranunculus are nowhere near as strong as those that remained in the garden. So one of jobs this weekend, if weather permits, is to plant them all out into various garden beds, I just need to decide which ones.
From the window I can also see some seedlings, nervously shivering, no doubt just as confused as I am about the weather as it swings from full sun to rain in the space of 24 hours. I suspect I am being optimistic about the survival of some. I started off well with my seedlings to the point that I left confident. Measured amounts were potted up and watched and then I got carried away with too many trays and seeds and the seedlings I started off last are suffering. The burst of sunflowers that emerged a week or two are go are shadows of their former selves and the abundance of cosmos seedlings too have faded away. I was relieved when I spotted someone else on socials bemoaning the decline of their beloved cosmos. I’ve decided it is time for a new approach and so more seeds will be ordered and I think I will direct so in the garden. I am curious to see how successful this will be and I’ve made notes to self for next year to pace myself when it comes to growing my seedlings.
Added to the scene at bottom of the garden I can see waving away in the wind the mop top form of white lilac. I’ve been delighting in the return of scent to the garden just as much as I have been the colour green and of course the sound of an errant bumble bee. Lilac flowers for such a short season and I gleefully snips branches of it to bring inside. I added a delicate pink variety to the garden last year and look forward to seeing her bloom once the white has finished. The jasmine too is rioting along, fighting against enforced containment as I try to keep it in one space, its creepers strongly disagree with my plans. On the few nights that hint of summer and windows are open I love the casual drift of it’s scent in the through the window. I was also very pleased to see my first rose flowering Freesia, she looks and smells fabulous. I am especially pleased to see her leaves are lush and health looking telling me that my worm farm compost mix has worked a charm. That is all the encouragement I need to keep up the adding of compost and pea straw in the no dig method to the garden.
The sky seems to be a determined grey and the rain is heavy drops that provide no comfort and only suggest being chilled to the bone. There is not hint of the predict warmth, maybe it is to come with the wind. Either way I shall watch the storm unfold from the comfort of my home and hope that it passes quickly and that people and creatures are kept safe.