I Planted Winter Roses

The flowers that bloom at this time of year have to be tough. The calendar says April, which brings to mind the sunshine and warmth of spring. The reality, however, is much different. This week alone has brought snow, sleet, rain, gusting winds, and sub-zero temperatures. Through it all, the Hellebores bloom.

Hellebores in bloom

There's a duality to Hellebores. On the one hand, they symbolize peace, tranquility, and new beginnings. On the other hand, there is a negative view of this plant fuelled by both history and legend. Hellebores have been associated with stress, anxiety and scandal. The Victorians associated Hellebores with delirium. In Greek mythology, the plant was used to treat madness. 

Hellebore backlit by sunshine

These negative associations brought up some negative associations of my own. My childhood and early adult years were difficult. One individual was responsible, and I cut that person out of my life as much as realistically possible a long time ago. Life, as a result, is so much better. It's harder to cut out the memories and the lingering emotions, though. They spring up whenever they feel like it. This week, while admiring the Hellebores, I was reminded that the individual who made my life hell once uprooted a holly shrub I had planted and broke every branch with glee. The holly was beyond saving and I was devastated. It was another hurt in a long list of hurts. I tried to capture that tough time in my life in a poem.

I Planted Winter Roses

I shrank away
from your choleric temperament

when the yellow bile rose

and the irrational anger seared

I recoiled from unkind words

spewed with spittle

flinched at the knife cutting

through supper with spite

suffocated in the river of resentment

flowing from the icy headwaters

of your black heart

My flesh stinging

my ears ringing

at the fury of your fist

meeting the steady pulse

of my temple

pounding loose delusions

that the cruelty would end

I withdrew

I hid behind a locked door

I let my wounds weep

The melancholy swelled

and when my soul

could take no more

I stepped outside

Ignoring you

I planted winter roses

Hellebores are also known as winter roses

Hellebores are also known as winter roses, Lenten roses, or Christmas roses. They have no connection to the roses, however. They are part of the buttercup family. Despite the negative associations that come with these early springtime bloomers, the act of planting (regardless of the plant's reputation, earned or unearned) is an act of hope, and sometimes, that is all you need to keep going.

Happy Gardening!

Green Fortune

 

Pak choi sprouts grow under
grow lights in my kitchen

Did some pak choi sprouts and a seed packet inspire a new poem this week? Why, yes! Yes they did. Head over to my new blog site to read Green Fortune!

Happy Gardening!

Scatter Me

March 2025 has been a miserable month. Cold, grey, and rainy. Today, much of the southern part of the province is recovering from a significant ice storm. After the winter we just had, March has been especially cruel. I count only one really nice day this month, and that is, quite frankly, depressing. March is supposed to offer hope amid the gloom. It has failed to make any effort whatsoever in that regard. Boo!

A half-hearted showing from the crocus.
They tried, but frigid and wet conditions (plus hungry
squirrels) kept blooms to a modest display. 

A few crocus have appeared, and my heart leaped with joy to see them. The flowers, however didn't stick around for long. They barely opened, and when they did, they were quickly devoured by hungry squirrels. I guess the squirrels had a rough winter, too. All this disappointment reminded me of a poem I wrote last year that features my beloved little crocus but whose subject matter is a tad sombre.

A hint of sunshine, but not enough to
coax the blooms to open.

Scatter Me

Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m dead and gone
Let me sleep among the flowers
singing springtime’s earliest song
Leave me be where I was happy
in the woodlands and the valleys

Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m gone

Let me sleep among the daisies
when my time is done
Rest in fields that stretch forever
gaze on skies that go on and on
Leave me be where life was easy
where I felt free and light and breezy
Let me sleep among the daisies 
when I’m gone

Leave me be among the clover
when I’ve seen my final dawn

Lay me down upon the green Earth
that gave so much so long
I have one last chance to nurture
to feed a lasting future
Leave me be among the clover
when I’m gone

Scatter me among the crocus 
when I’m dead and gone
Let me sleep among the flowers
singing springtime’s hopeful song
Leave me be where I was happy
in the soil on dirty hands and knees
Scatter me among the crocus
when I’m gone

A modest display

I hope that wasn't too dark. Perhaps lightening up the mood a bit is in order, so allow me to share this story. I don't remember what inspired this poem. I do remember humming a tune as I put words to paper. It was only after the poem was finished, typed up, and the "save" button selected, that I recognized a familiar cadence and phrasing. I'm pretty sure I wrote a poem set at least partly to the tune of "Oh, Susanna." I guess stranger things have happened.

More crocus will come. The best is still ahead of us.

Happy Gardening (once we eventually get there)!

For Catherine

A colleague of mine called it a career this week and, as these things often go, I found the occasion to be bittersweet. I wanted to mark the milestone in a special way, and so a poem emerged about the garden that we cared for. The poem is called For Catherine. Check it out at my new blog My Roots Run Deeper.

Hollyhocks in the garden at Colborne Lodge

Birdsong Cabaret

I've really gotten into birds lately, and I'm very lucky that life allows me to attend places where I can see them in large numbers. Even before I took a particular interest in them, I always knew it was spring when the birds would wake me up with their songs early in the morning, before the sun came out and cast light on the day. That happened today for the first time this year, so it must truly be spring.  The experience inspired a Haiku.

Birdsong Cabaret

Four a.m. birdsong
Awakens in darkest day

Earth's bright cabaret

A haiku that happens to rhyme. Is that allowed? Lol. Here are some of the birds I have seen recently.

Red-winged Blackbird in High Park.
Listen for their unmistakable trill.
Watch out when they are
protecting their nests. 
They will dive bomb you!

American Robin in Toronto.
A true harbinger of spring.

A Song Sparrow in Tiny Marsh.
Not especially trusting of humans, but
happy to share its song.

Happy Birdwatching! Happy Gardening!

The Blue Flower of Bhutan

Be sure to check out my short story The Blue Flower of Bhutan and other garden-related posts on my blog My Roots Run Deep II.  In the meantime, enjoy these pictures of blue poppies taken in 2019 at Memorial University Botanical Garden in Newfoundland.

Happy Gardening!

Bittersweet Daylilies

As always, the summer is too short.  The appearance of the final daylilies is always bittersweet.

Exceptional colour from these daylilies

Hope you are all having a great summer!

Enjoy every fleeting moment.

Happy Gardening!