Yes, Spring Will Come, But First…

Monday was a beautiful spring day (not that it won’t turn cold and rainy again and maybe even snow), and I went out for a walk around the premises, looking for new life. But paradoxically, I fell in love with the winter garden all over again, and decided to take you on one last tour. It’s all being cut down tomorrow.

I came to the front flower beds just as the glorious rays of the sun were slanting their golden evening light over everything.

This hollyhock came back years after Jason pulled all the plants out because they had become diseased. Surprise! I had to wait a couple months to see what color it would be (white). I’m not sure hollyhocks go with the current garden plan, but I do like a surprise, and I’m hoping it will bring a few friends along this year.

These yellow coneflowers are maybe not as tall as they appear in this shot, but I love how they are shooting for the sky, even after a long winter. Myself, I was desperate for Daylight Saving Time to begin.

This is Baptisia, False Indigo. Alas, I could not make my cell phone focus on the seed pods, no matter how I tried. I’ve been wondering if I should switch entirely to a cell phone camera, and this may be the answer. I did go in to get my tiny Panasonic Lumix, but both batteries had died in the six months since I last touched it. More about camera issues in another post!

This reminds me of wandering through Lurie Garden in the winter. So many textures, so many shades of brown and gray. I’m not downtown much these days, and I miss it.

Milkweed has so many good qualities to recommend it. Friend to monarchs in the summer, provider of a spectacular show through the winter. I think I’ll save this seed pod and let Addie float it into the wind when she’s here next.

I do love grasses. I added a couple to the garden in the fall (including some prairie dropseed!) and am hoping to add a few more this year. But I may need to make flash cards to help me remember their names.

This is what remains of Northern Sea Oats after a long winter. They have to be cut back or they will drop a million seeds and take over everywhere. But aren’t they irresistible!

I believe this is the empty seed head of a monarda. We were a little overzealous in trying to restrain them this past summer. They have never been my favorites (I’m just not fond of their colors, for one thing; personal taste, not their fault). But I missed their quirky presence when they were diminished, and so did the bees.

Alliums! Stars of the garden in May and June, and then all winter. And I always cut some in the late fall to have inside in a vase. My earliest awareness of them was as those silly pom-poms that look like they belong in a Dr. Seuss book, but over the past two decades or so, they have taken more natural shapes and proliferated energetically in gardens everywhere. Last summer, they transplanted themselves into several garden beds where we had not planted them. My first thoughts were, what thugs! Et tu, Allium! But then I noticed that they had put themselves in all the right places, filling a number of gaps, and I happily left them. There are only a handful of beds they haven’t hopped into (yet).

There are so many shapes and shades in the winter garden.

And then, while this post was in progress, yep, it snowed. This view was captured by my son, Daniel, as he and Addie arrived to spend the day with me on Thursday.

By the afternoon, we were able to take Addie outside for a bubble fest.

How is spring progressing where you are? I have snowdrops, a couple of the earliest daffodils, a few crocuses, and hellebores beginning to fill out, and I’m checking impatiently every day hoping for more.