Sometimes I think I am looking for flowers in all the wrong places.
I spent some time recently cutting branches to force them to bloom indoors. This was a bit of a flop since those growing outside are now nearly as far along as the ones inside, in spite of soaking the sticks overnight in the bath tub held down by a heavy frying pan (to keep them from floating), setting them in a cool room and waiting some days' time.
Anyway, the "treated" forsythia and pussy willow and chaenomeles buds are swelling and should open any time now. That is nice, but nobody will see them.
The reason I say that is the cat has taken a liking to them, and setting a large vase of temptation within reach of an exuberant little Devon Rex is asking for trouble with a capital T. I saw what she did to her heretofore favorite foliar tidbit, the baby Bella palm, and I do NOT want to see what she can do with several large arm loads of whippy branches and a large quantity of water in a glass vase, heavy though it may be.
Back to the flowers, enough of the cat. I found snowdrops blooming in the garden. All by themselves, poking up through the old oak leaves, no help from me. That means Spring is right around the corner. You can bet on it.
Remember last week when we heard the word: "six more weeks"? Who are you gonna believe -- me or that stupid groundhog?
I thought so. How about we make it five?
HAPPY SPRING!
This article marks four years of the Cottage Garden.
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