Come, lift the cup, and in the Fire of Spring...
So over the 10-12th I went away for the weekend (long story, possibly to be told later), and HOLY MOLY SPRING HAPPENED WHILE I WASN'T LOOKING.
The Bartlett pears are befouling the neighborhood with their musk. The maple is all over samaras now, meaning that soon we will be inundated in helicoptering seeds. My father is calling everything with the right colored blossoms a dogwood (in fairness, there are a bunch of them round and about).
The daffodils are already gone, but the carpet phlox is doing much better than any of us expected. The Lenten roses bloomed and are starting a downward slide, but I still can't get tired of looking at them from the kitchen window. There's something about their downward-facing bells that appeals to me strangely.
We've had roaring success with our marigold seedlings, and the chrysanthemums and shasta daisies are also making slow progress. I think the nasturtiums are a bust.
I haven't really been doing a lot of work in the garden, between some sickness and some travel and some work scheduling madness. I have been taking walks, though, so I at least get to see what's growing even if I'm not actively participating in its growth.
Also, impulsively, I bought dollar-store grow kits for cilantro and sensitive plant (the cilantro claims to be "ORGANIC!" but I admit I'm not putting a lot of stock in that). I do this every so often. I don't know why. The Baudelaire marigolds lived and throve in my window-well for a long time, growing to the bizarre height of three feet (they had to be staked). The poppies might have done all right, too, except that when the sky fell on me last summer I forgot to water them for a while and that was the end of that. It's mathematically impossible for that precise combination of events to occur again this summer, so maybe I will have some window buddies.
Everything is growing, everything is moving, my allergies are going crazy. I want to be moving, too, but when I try to jump the lead weight of my sadness yanks at me unpleasantly.
Still, it's spring.
Keep moving, eh?