I will survive

Several weeks ago, I was cleaning the kitchen and a sports movie from the 80's came on TV. In a bar scene, one of the characters put a disco song on the jukebox. "I will Survive" is now stuck in my brain.

Every morning, I hum it when I walk the dog down the street. I sing it while I feed the fish and fill the bird feeders. I think of it often when I walk about my garden.

These roots from ironweed look formidable. This plant is never recommended for containers but I tried them in a large plastic pot for a few years. This plant is a survivor.

This penstemon planted itself beside between the concrete of the driveway and some composting leaf litter. I forgot about it this winter and swept up most of the dirt, but they hung on tenaciously. They will survive.

This winter, I covered Hosta 'albo-marginata' with a large stone, part of a mini-wall around my wildlflower bed. Today I noticed that the hosta pushed that stone out of the way. It will survive.

For many years, this woodland phlox was attacked regularly by deer. After hellebores were planted in front, the deer moved on. The phlox will survive.

These Virginia bluebells are growing through the WeedBlock that the landscaper installed under the river rock walkway. This year, they will bloom. And they will survive.

The jury is still out on Frances Williams, the hosta that my husband ran over with the van this week. Think she'll lay down and die?

Oh no not I.

I will survive.

Oh as long as I know how to love

I know I'll stay alive.

I got all my life to live

and I got all my love to give.

and I'll survive.

I will survive.

Spring begins

First day of spring. I leave work promptly at 6:30 and rush home to see what has changed in the garden.


Five days of soaking rain awakened my favorite wildflowers along the path. The flowers in this patch of bloodroot are huge this year.




I love bloodroot -- ugliest of names for the loveliest of wildflowers. I see a bee land on the bloodroot and fly away disappointed. Poor bee. Bloodroot has no nectar.

Trilliums are another favorite. Deer love to eat trilliums and these are the only ones that have escaped their midnight raids. These trilliums have the common name "Stinking Benjamin," but they don't smell bad -- really, they don't.

Golden ragwort is another misfortunately named wildflower. Their bright rayflowers cheer up the last days of winter.

Virginia bluebells along the path start out pink, then turn blue, just before they open.

Late winter/early spring is about gentle showers and native wildflowers.

Water

We were like water once. A deep pool overhung with branches of maple and birch. In the still water, we seeped into one another, silently, smoothly, easily.

Our thoughts were without thinking. Our voices spoke in chorus. We breathed one breath.

A boatsman entered our quiet pool, his motor cutting a wake into our still world. Waves lapped onto the shore. Our hearts no longer beat in rhythm. We felt a stirring in the cooler water below. We came up for air.

Now we are stones along the path, weathered in tones of ocher and slate.

Reflecting the cold light of a full moon.

Radiating the warmth of sun on a summer afternoon.

Touching, but just barely.

Snow

The garden is peaceful in the early morning after snow.


The back garden:

The front garden:

Peace be with you.