"Never yet was a springtime, 

when the buds forgot to bloom. 

-Margaret Elizabeth Sangster 

Amazing April

The month of discoveries, with surprises around every corner, every single day! 

Especially outside -  in the garden.

My first flower haul from the nursery.  I love it when the primula, the violas, small potted daffodils and hyacinths appear in the stores.  It's such fun to play with all the plants, all the bright colors, plopping them into pretty containers and scattering them around the house inside 

for my Easter celebration.  

Then, out they go to find a new home in my garden.

 If I'm lucky, they will come back to visit me again next spring 

Surprise!

Discovered in the garden, some of these primulas do come back. 

The hyacinths are not nearly so agreeable,

 but it's always worth a try

The daffodils are the first bright spots of April. 

  I can't resist bringing a few of these golden beauties inside. 

A bunch or a single boom, they are enchanting.

The species tulips are a real treat,

 I love how they self-sow and multiply.  

I

I'm going to add more of these in the fall for sure. 

Talk about a surprise, this color extravaganza 

was hiding under the rhubarb forcer.

I know it will turn deep green very quickly. 

Good thing I checked!

I can't wait for this double-bloodroot 

to unfold in the shade garden.

 It's here and gone in a day or two.

. . .  that's Spring for you,  

don't miss a single bloom of it!

From Fantasy to Reality

 A Tropical Escape is a bit of a fantasy

If you see the wonder of a fairy tale, you can take the future, even if you fail - Abba

Springtime in South Florida is a bit like A FAIRY TALE, 

a temporary yet complete immersion in color. 

Green of course, yellow, orange, purple,

and more than a little pink. 

From Palm Trees to Orchids, 

and from Hibiscus to Bouganvilla, 

it's impossible to resist the magic spell 

these plants cast.

The orchids are quite happy 

just hanging out in the trees, so effortless!

If you hunger for color, it will fill you up.

Fragrance is everywhere, floating in the air.

Look up, look down, look all around.

I can't resist the temptation to capture the mood 

with my paints, who could?

Inspiration goes beyond the flowers and appears everywhere you look. 

. . .  the buildings, the interiors, the clothes.

A favorite example, Inside and Out, is this place, 

we call it The Pink Palace.

The perfect spot for a girls' getaway and lunch by the pool.

But the time does come to pick up your feet, spread your wings, and return to reality, and for me, reality is a Midwest Spring. The one that I have waited for, anticipated, the Spring that means mud, chilly days, tiny green buds, birdsong, and so much promise. The Spring that resides deep in my heart. 

That first golden daffodil is waiting for me there.

Snowdrops and Hope

I brought you an acorn today,

and some snowdrop bulbs.

I carried them from the place where I live 

to this place, a place I've never been before.

Just for you.

. . . from "Pieces of Us"

Snowdrop 

Galanthus

I have always thought the snowdrop was named for its ability to push through the snowy earth in early spring with its pure white "drop" of a blossom. It makes perfect sense, right? Not so!

I have also believed there was one variety of snowdrop, and I now know there are many. 

The word "Snowdrop" may be derived from the German Schneetropfen (snow-drop), the teardrop-shaped pearl earrings popular in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

ON BECOMING A GALANTHOPHILE

There is a place in the woods of Germany where a plane crashed many years ago. I've been told snowdrops bloom there in March, and I have to wonder who would have planted them in such a remote spot. So when I visited in the autumn three years ago, I took a handful of snowdrop bulbs and planted them under the carpet of leaf mold there. I have not been back, but I wonder every spring since if they grew?

When I returned from that trip, I wanted to commemorate it somehow, in a way that was meaningful to me alone. I decided to have a very small snowdrop tattooed on my wrist. 

Something about this tiny flower has always held a special fascination for me, and when I discovered the connection with my father's story, a WWII Pilot who was shot down over Germany, the symbolism and magic only heightened. I knew I had to paint snowdrops as one of the illustrations for my book.  

Full disclosure . . . 

I have succumbed to the

temptation of Faux snowdrops, 

just to tide me over until the real thing appears in the garden. No apologies for that!

The arrival of a single, first-edition bloom in early February was an event of epic proportions for me last week. With a bit of maternal protective instinct springing to life, something every gardener will understand, I rushed to find a small cloche for protection, offering this one its very own personal conservatory.

I might also be an Anglophile, thanks to my obsession with English gardens. I will forever dream of strolling through a carpet of snowdrops covering a woodland floor, and of traveling to the gardens and nurseries there in February to shop from all the many varieties for my garden. They even have "Open Garden Days" devoted solely to the arrival of snowdrops! Can you just imagine being there and driving from garden to garden, stopping for tea in between and along the way?  But these are only the dreams of a Midwest gardener who doesn't live in England. So I must be satisfied and grateful for the timing and the offerings of my own garden.

Speaking of Magic, I can have any flower, 

even snowdrops, whenever I want with paper and paint.

That's the kind of magic anyone can conjure. Try it!

In the language of flowers, snowdrops have several meanings and are said to symbolize hope, consolation, and new beginnings. They are among the first flowers to bloom in the spring following a long, cold winter. Their ability to push through the snow and bloom despite the harsh conditions is seen as a symbol of resilience and perseverance.

Snowdrops and Hope seem meant for each other.

Brushing Away The Cobwebs

Can a Blog develop cobwebs? No, but if this one could, it surely would have by now. 

It's been a while, a long while, but it's January and there's no better time to start than at the beginning.

I was browsing around the art store this weekend and stopped in front of the pencil display, wondering what colors I might need to add to my collection. I returned home and checked out my store of pencils, and I realized they had been ignored for quite a while. They were in sad disrepair, broken, stubby. 

I decided to sharpen them all and there's nothing better for that job than the old pencil sharpener mounted on the wall in my barn. I wasn't surprised to see the device had cobwebs on it. That was easy to fix.

It does the job far better than the sleek little battery-operated piece on my desk in the house. And it sings a pleasant chewing song as the handle turns, so satisfying. It never runs out of batteries.

I was transported back to my days in primary school, with the big blackboards, the chalk erasers, and the smell of pencil lead. Then I thought of my blog, long neglected like my pencils. Funny how one thing can lead you right down a crooked path to another completely unrelated thing! 

Looking up some illustrated journals from my past, I noticed I had recorded one year of my garden using colored pencils, and some of my trips to Maine as well. Hmm . . . maybe I should try those pencils again.

I lined all the pencils up, looking sharp and ready for duty, and I made some notes on possible additions to the cast of colors. Any excuse to go back to the art supply store. If someone asks me my favorite colors or the colors I use the most, I only need to look at the length of my pencils. The evidence is there.

When the big things start to get you down, turn around and look for the little things. Like colors, sharp pencils, and maybe cobwebs. Then marvel at the way one thing can lead to another, in a good way.