09 June 2011

early june

This is that time of year when you're likely to find me in a reverie of one sort or another in spite of all that needs to be done in the garden. I am transported by the warmth, the smell of the air, the light. I think to myself, Oh, I need the spade, I really have to divide the asters, and on my way to the garage, I get a little sidetracked by the way the hayfield across the road looks so soft in the evening light, and I stop to take it in.

Five minutes later, I'm standing in the same position, my eyes fixed on the same point in space. The spade is still in the garage, and I don't remember that I wanted to use it for anything.

A friend who was visiting last week watched me wander back and forth across the lawn with a morning glory plant in my hand for a full half hour. I didn't actually get it planted then, but I was plenty busy.

The three 'Blue Angel' hostas I bought several years ago and moved from a sunny spot where they were getting burned out to full shade are more and more glorious each year. Every spring I worry that maybe they haven't made it through the winter, because they leaf out later than other hostas we have, and each year they come back bigger and bigger.

The Chionanthus virginicus that B and I bought two or three years ago after we saw one in bloom over at North Hill also seems to be settling in to its spot. The fringey blossoms have a sweet, very subtle fragrance. I catch whiffs of it as I'm weeding the slope.

All spring the name of the delicate-looking plants I bought in a six-pack last year has been on the edge of my brain. It begins with a "T":  Tradescantia? Tricytris? No . . . Thalictrum! All are about as tall as I am, with straight, sturdy stems that have a dusky bloom on them and more and more leaves unfurling. I have a feeling that when they bloom it will be an Event.

No comments:

Post a Comment