Spring is NOT like Christmas. Both of them seem like they will never come but Christmas eventually does - and when it's time, it's time. With gardening it starts to look like it's time about a hundred times each late winter and spring - and then nature either snows on our parade or at least sends the temperatures plummeting. My spirits usually follow suit.
When the temperatures plummet we have to start worrying about our little charges which so bravely poked their noses out to see if it was safe to come out. It wasn't. We also start to fret. Is it too early for those poor things? Will they freeze to death? Should I take a blanket and go cover them up? Despite years of previous springs, which have shown me that the little bulb will be just fine, I worry - every single spring.
And then there are the roses. I don't want to prune them too soon. The poor things will take that as a signal to grow - and that's exactly when Jack Frost at his most vindictive decides to stage an appearance - and there goes not only the new growth but much of the bush that I had spared during my pruning sessions. It may seem like a silly thing to worry about - as the snow flies past my office window and my husband hauls out his long johns once again. But only a day or so ago I was out with only a sweater on thinking how nice the weather was, and how certain it was that spring would soon be here.
Then I worry about my plant orders. If I send them in now, will the plants arrive too soon - before I can get a trowel through the frozen earth? After all, with last autumn's early freeze I got plant orders too late to be able to do anything about them.. I am afraid to look to see how those babies are faring. I suspect it's time to play a round of Taps and bury them in compost.
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