Some people are bird watchers. I am a flower watcher. Well, a plant watcher really. I love birds, really, but I’m always so busy looking down around my feet for new plant life that I rarely spot the birds unless someone points them out to me. I walk around our little acre often, seeing what the plants are doing, chanting their names to myself like a charm, or some kind of dreamy roll-call.
Today was an exciting day in plant watching. Not only have more blossoms opened on the Camellia–and she is LOADED with buds this year, more so than any year since I came to live here–but today I found many new blossoms. Another Dandelion blossom, for one thing. I also noticed that even since yesterday the dandelions have grown noticeably, and the leaves are all standing tall, reaching for the spring sunlight, shouting greenly for joy. Also, the forsythia bush has opened her first bloom, a fragile little yellow thing. I love the forsythia bushes, the way the blossoms burst forth from what looks like dead branches before the bushes even think of putting forth a leaf. Then I noticed a fat daffodil bud, not cracking any yellow yet, but swollen with life. Soon, soon. The tulips have pushed up leaves, only just. And I discovered this morning two wee rose bushes, volunteers, growing amongst the foliage of columbine and remainders of cabbage plants gone wild on the north side of my front porch. They won’t thrive there–not enough sunlight–so I think I will pot them up and share them with friends. I love roses, but we are running out of places to put them. Roses love us too, apparently, because more move in every year, planted by birds I guess?
Todays tour of herb and flower beds showed yarrow sprouting the teeniest little feathery leaves, sage putting on new grey-green leaflets, and my valerian reappeared today with a vengeance. Yesterday, nothing there, today a cluster of elegant leaves. The arnica I planted is coming back as well. The comfrey has spread a bit next to the lavender, and I think I’ll offer some root bits to my neighbor, with a warning about how comfrey is for life.
Every day since it started getting warmer I have walked around and stared at the plants, sometimes crouching down beside brown sticks, getting my knees damp in the wet soil, to get close enough to spot the first tiny nubs of green on old friends. And I tell people, today I saw a dandelion flower, and a forsythia blossom, and camellias, and sage leaves, and buds on the elder bush, and teeny leaves on my roses, and … wonder how much I’m boring them. To me it’s the most exciting thing ever. I’m baffled when others don’t share my enthusiasm. I assume that everyone in the world would live out in the country if they had the choice, and garden if they could, and that everyone wants chickens! I have to be reminded every year. Silly me–I guess I’m a slow learner.
That’s okay though. The plants understand.