I am so distracted these days, and spring is to blame. There’s the smell of freshness on the breeze, the chirps and calls of birds in the morning, and the daily display of fifty shades of green. All I want to do is work in the yard: clean the beds, rake the lawn, bring out the terracotta pottery, inhale deeply — but I do have a day job that demands much of my time and a post to write.
Writing, though, is near impossible. Spring stimulates all of my senses, and each time I step outside, I am overwhelmed with words, feelings, and adjectives. Rather than write them down, they swirl inside my head as I become lost in the intoxicating world that is spring.
And so, I surrender to those who have already placed their words on paper, words that illustrate the beauty of the gardener’s most magical season.
The other day when I pulled into the driveway and stepped from my car, I was overcome by the sweet perfume scent of Hyacinths. It’s a smell that I call intoxicating. In fact, I’ve referred to this scent as intoxicating so often and for so many years that it has become a sort of running joke between myself and Joe.
“Can you smell that?” I begin. “It’s . . . “
“I know, I know,” answers Joe. “It’s intoxicating.”
Now I’m thinking of breaking out of predictability with a new description for Hyacinth — and I’m going with Bulbalicious. I figure if the vernacular can work for Beyonce, why not Hyacinth?
While Hyacinth may be the headliner on the Spring stage, we mustn’t overlook the supporting bloomers. Afterall, we all know what happened to Diana Ross & the Supremes. Besides, these back-up harmonizers are all Bulbalicious in their own right.
Tulip — a little shy now, but emerging slowly.
What’s her name again? I’m not sure what to call this dainty flower, but she’s reliable.
Watch out for Muscari. With a name like that, she’s the vixen of the bunch, and she just might push Hyacinth out of the spotlight. In fact, I believe she’s exploring a film role as a tree in a Dr. Seuss movie.
At this time of year, I have all the drama and diva attitudes I can handle right in the garden. What’s that I hear? “And I am telling you, I’m not going. . . You’re gonna love me . . .”
Bulbalicious all the way.
One day, you’re on vacation in South Florida, gazing at the pattern of a banana leaf sunlit from behind (above) — and the next, you’re bundled up against the wind chill of Long Island. After arriving home, I went through some random Florida photos and then walked around the yard on Long Island to make a comparison. Can you guess which photos came from which zone?