If asked where I got my love of beautiful gardens, I'd say two things in my life happened almost at once: I spent a summer in England (pregnant with the younger one and holding the little hand of my older girl) and soon after, I visited Giverny -- the place where Monet planted his garden. Either trip would have spurred me to look differently at my own garden, but the two, within years of each other pushed me over the cliff. I've been planting herbaceous (perennial) borders and beds ever since. I consider a patch with some sunlight and decent dirt to be a gift, to be used wisely. You have have the ability to turn it into something beneficial and sensual.
April gives us the thrill of first flowers here in south central Wisconsin. May -- well that's a garden in full swing. Whichever way you look, there will be something to awe you.
I'm up early. There are animals to feed. This, too, is an opportunity to take that morning walk. The colors are beautiful then!
Our friends linger for breakfast before they take off. Too cold for the porch, especially for these two (they just came from Hawaii).
But even from the inside, the eye is drawn to the garden. The lilac is coming into bloom and the crab is not yet dropping petals. This, too, is a confluence of two powerful garden beauties. Early spring anchors: apple and lilac!
I do spend time planting -- but I only have a couple of hours for it. By early afternoon it's time to pick up Snowdrop.
She had been learning about famous painters in her school art class and I thought this may be a good moment to introduce her to a book that was extremely influential for me, for my kids when they were school aged -- Linea in Monet's Garden. Kid books are supposed to open their young eyes to the intricate wonders of our planet, but the very best books are as important to us readers as they are to the intended audience. Over the decades, I learned a lot about Monet's work, but none of the new information was as eye opening to me as what I'd picked up from this young person's book.
Will Snowdrop (or Primrose or Sparrow) feel the pull toward these late nineteenth century painters? Toward the gardens that became Monet's obsession and now mine?
It's a cool day and we'll have a cool weekend too. There's even a danger of light frost, though I'm not too worried. It doesn't feel threatening. It feels crisp and lovely and hopeful.
(with the young chicks)
Much much later I consider what to make for supper. Leftovers win. It's just the two of us. Both tired, but happy to have had so many good days of productive work outside.
