Observing early spring days and finding colour

The early days of April are an interesting time for observing the land that makes up the garden, with some days more wintry than spring-like.

April offers a prelude to what will come, excitement and anticipation growing for what may soon be. It’s that time of year that feels like we are on the cusp of realizing something momentous will soon occur, even though it still feels like a long way off. And while we look forward to spring arriving every year, and the marvel that is a brand-new growing season, it never seems repetitive or boring, but instead a new adventure each time, as if a first-time occurrence.

While I don’t like to ever call the garden landscape ugly in its appearance, it is frankly an ugly time in the garden which I try to pretend isn’t as ugly as it really is. I also know that soon enough, the grey and beige (or “nothing colour” as I tend to call it) dominating the landscape will soon transform, bringing shades of green, a little more colour and vibrant new growth making a garden all that it should become. We aren’t there yet, but it’s getting closer.

With a recent spring ice storm, unseasonably cool temperatures (still) along with a cold wind some days, some snow in the air too, spring gardening remains elusive and impatient after a long, snowy winter.

What the garden has revealed this past week is activity and those first signs it is coming back to life. And while upon initial glance nothing appears to be happening, closer inspection and observation reveals the garden is most certainly emerging from its winter hibernation, slowly and progressively, showing signs of activity, awakening from its winter sleep.

Tamarack tree budding

Most obvious is the emergence and swelling of many tree and shrub leaf buds (lilacs among them): prominent and plump, and getting plumper by the day, deepening in colour where you can almost feel them wanting to burst open at any minute. But I am getting a little ahead of myself because I realize it will be many more weeks yet before that happens. They are smart trees and they know stuff we don’t, so I remind myself they will only do their thing when the timing and the temperature is just right.

On the determined hunt for any emerging spring-flowering bulbs, I attempt to remember where they are planted, not always an easy task, with the early young foliage much darker in colour than expected in its almost dark red state.

At first, I wonder if my curiosity is premature because they may just be slow to emerge after a chilly winter. Either that or some creature found a meal. As I hope for the former and not the latter, I do eventually find some bulbs, and not only do I find foliage, but I find a few blooms too where I am careful not to disturb the delicate growth poking through the grass, nor crush it with a hefty Wellington boot.

Crocus

A surprise patch of yellow crocus almost buried in a blanket of leaves emerge, the tiny delicate plants without blooms just a few days ago are now blooming their sweet little yellow hearts out. And while they look a little battered, this is where I am grateful for the small things the garden brings, for all things cheerfully yellow. The sight of blooming crocus in early April means the garden has began its season of growing joy. This is where it all begins.

Tulip foliage

Tulip foliage was also located poking about an inch above the ground, and within just a few days all the tulips were up with foliage growing taller by the day. Of course, other tulips, different tulip species, in different locations, are considerably larger already, but closer to the house within a raised block wall garden (and safe from boots), the warmer spot means faster growth (and maybe faster flowers too) sooner in the season.

A hunt for evidence of daffodils just a few days earlier resulted in nothing found, even though I’m convinced they usually come up long before the tulips do, so either I am mixed up, or the garden here has its own schedule. The same goes for the crocus as the established yellow crocus are up and blooming already, but the purple crocus bulbs located in a different spot have yet to emerge, or are only just emerging. Yet having said that, what a difference a day makes at this time of year, because now there are purple flower buds.

Daffodil foliage

For now, the garden should be left alone to wake-up in its own time, where I must resist trampling all over it in said Wellington boots because compacting the soil and the lawn while things are still wet doesn’t do it much good. Not good at taking my own advice sometimes, my desire to explore all things garden in April is often difficult to resist.

While I desperately have the urge to rake up all the remaining autumn leaves, put there naturally and placed there by me to protect and insulate, I reluctantly decide to wait a few more weeks to do the tidying. That way, the overwintering insects get to wake up when it’s a bit warmer, adjust to the season, and move on when they choose to, rather than being forcefully evicted and potentially harmed (or worse) before they are fully ready. The “leave the leaves” idea not only applies in the fall, but also, somewhat more importantly, in early spring too.

The greige backdrop that is the garden, scruffy, unkempt, bare, accumulated detritus, the lack of anything green (aside from a few blades of grass resembling something green), yet in my mind’s eye I see beauty and potential for what’s to come knowing winter has thawed, tree sap is flowing, buds are swelling and there is the promise of an entire growing season just within reach.

And it all begins with flowering crocuses (or croci), yellow and cheerful on a chilly April day.

– A gardener all her adult life, and much of her childhood, Sharon Harrison blames her parents for this predicament, both of whom are life-long gardeners and growers of good things, nonetheless grateful for the gardening genes, and the growing passion.

While she has written on countless topics over many years for numerous publications and media, her heart remains rooted in her Prince Edward County garden as a grower of beautiful, strange and sometimes ordinary things, inspired and influenced by nature, wildlife and the fragility of environment.