Sunday in the Late February Garden

It feels like Spring in Knoxville, an early spring indeed.  The daffodils are blooming as are a few flowering trees including a couple of early dogwoods, although it  still feels too early.  I don't know how accurate this feeling is, or if it is just a remnant from my 30 years in NY, but there is still a possibility of killing frost, and so I remain hopeful but cautiously so. I am starting to see leaf buds on the maple outside my office window the one that is too large, not very pretty, and blocks all the light; I am reminded that it is better to deal with this tree now, before those leaves unfurl and make the tree even more ungainly.

In fact it is really hard to exercise restraint and not muck about in the garden too much, to not get carried away with dreams and plans.  I've owned this house for a year now, although I haven't lived her for a year yet, so my one-year moratorium is not quite over.  But I also know there will be construction coming, and there is no point in planting things that will just get trampled, so waiting is the better choice.  But waiting is hard.

There is, however, one small section of the yard I can work with now, and a couple of small projects here and there.   Even so I need to be careful not to get carried away.  New plantings will need water, and I must be mindful of my ability to water areas that are currently outside of the reach of my 50-foot hose, not that a 100-foot hose is hard to come by.  But I must also consider that the sprinkler system will not go in until after the other work is done, remembering to plan accordingly, and not plant things that will only be uprooted by future work, remembering that my own life, as well as the yard will be uprooted by construction, remembering to be patient with myself.

Still, I can also remember that it costs nothing to dream.  The trick is in starting slowly while dreaming big.  But that is the best way anyway.

Today I am out working in the garden.  It rained overnight, but the rain has stopped, hopefully, for the day, and I can putter about, am happy to putter about, cleaning up the beds, carrying out a little late winter pruning, even though I may have missed that late-winter part.  We don't yet know who is going to win the "is it Spring yet?" competition, the plants or Mother Nature. 

And when the rains return, or I am forced inside due to other obligations, the winter cyclamen is still going strong, and my Amaryllis is finally blooming, a reminder just to enjoy things as they come, in their own time, placing the emphasis on acceptance rather than expectation,