April tries my patience. After months of grey, dreary and often frigid weather, April teases me. It entices me with warm breezes. It pulls me outside with the first aromas of thawing earth. It washes me in the golden light of mornings and the pink skies of sunset. Then it slams me back into reality with endless days of cold and rain. Sigh.
I have to forgive April its somewhat split personality. The by-product of the push and pull between a stubborn winter and an emerging spring is an abundant supply of hope and anticipation. I feel like my three-year-old daughter before a birthday party. She wonders if there will be cake and presents and balloons. I wonder what surprises the garden will hold.
Will the tulips survive an onslaught of squirrels? How much lemon balm will I have to pull out of the ground? If I start early enough, can I get rid of the rhubarb I dislike so much? Did the foxtail lilies multiply? I planted something right there, but what? I'll just have to wait and see. The anticipation is too much.
There's already a lot to suggest success lies ahead. Several new patches of daffodils and chionodoxa are in bloom. The grape hyacinths, a personal favourite, are poking through the earth to display perfection in miniature. The cranesbill, veronica, and liatris are all reaching for the sun. In typical fashion, the purple coneflowers (which never disappoint) are coming on strong. And it appears my inaugural session of lilac pruning last summer was a success. The buds appear ready to burst.
Now, to exercise some patience. Let the rain and sunshine and earth do their work. April, you tease.
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