Growth Spurts

Growing up in California, the seasons were pretty much sunny and warm, and rainy and not quite as warm. Things were at their greenest during the winter months when it might, but not necessarily rain for a few days here and there. Things went brown in about June, and become tinder and crispy in July and August.

For the past 10 plus years I've lived places where outdoor life goes dormant for a season, then comes vibrantly back for the spring and early summer. I've never seen sky as blue as it is here in May and June. Against that clarity the newly leaved trees look incredibly green. I remember the first year I lived here I would hold leaves in my hand and marvel at the depth of color. Of course that was the year of marvels -- my first year as a mom. What wasn't amazing at that time? When the days start shortening, the vibrancy fades a bit, but the colors are still bright.

This winter I've spent a lot of time sitting tapping the keys of my computer at a counter-desk that looks out into our little backyard. Last summer we had it landscaped with trees, bushes, and mulch, plus my little vegetable garden. I've looked at the brown, dead-looking bushes concerned that they had seen the last of being green; that they wouldn't come back and our lives would remain dreary and faded.

The first signs of life were of course my bulbs poking through the dirt. The pansies I planted in the fall were grateful for their company and seemed to stand just a little taller in their presence. And in spite of 2 predicted blizzards and potentially flower smashing snows, they've been spared most of it. This past 24 hours of precipitation have been a blessing for my flower children (so far...I have my fingers crossed for tonight which could end up being cold enough for lasting snowfall).

My bulbs weren't my concern. Being underground kept them out of my sight, not a constant reminder of dormancy, of what could be, but isn't, even though they were just beneath the surface. What I saw all winter was the brownness of our bushes, the leaflessness of our trees. What I felt was the uncertainty that it would be okay come spring.

In the past couple of weeks or so there have been signs of reassurance. Greenness is spreading through our backyard. In a month or so there will be more colors, because I see the lilacs are starting to bud, the lavender is starting to unfurl. Soon I'll be planting my herb garden and the deck will be scented with rosemary and mint. There will be marigolds to protect my tomatoes and zinnias to just add a dash of color around the cucumber plants which will probably attempt a garden takeover again this year. Life will be weaving it's way all over out there.

No wonder Spring is such a relief!