It’s spring. Spring means the beginning of the cycle of my garden. But not really. If you think about it, you’ll understand that the garden, although mostly hidden from view half the year, is quite alive.
The fact is, anything that needs to remain active, such as the living seeds and insects, simply retreat into safety. My fish, when I had them, would drop under any icy sheet on the surface of their water. Seeds just wait it out, and worms and other burrowers, including some amphibians (which are sadly missing from my garden) and insects, take the warmth of the underworld as their lifeline. for that is the way of the cold-blooded.
But now it’s spring. We had a major renovation this year, and what we called an “island” has been razed. But not really. there are plants I’d truly forgotten about, although I planted them carefully and even divided them a couple of times to ensure their survival.
But one of them I’m truly grateful for is the Hellebore. Here is an official description:
Actually, mine are special. Gleaned from a friend’s garden right before she moved away, they have not only survived the neighboring disturbance, and my dog’s bounding about after squirrels, but have returned, waving their tattered leaves above round, fat blossoms.
It takes a trained eye to discover the spring flowers. The hellebores, being newer, are exciting to behold. So behold I do, and when I’m not down on the ground with my camera, I’m watching them unfold as the spring unfolds all around me. I really mean us, as we repair, reconstitute, and rebuild for yet another season.