Gifts of the late April garden (Part 2)

Among the best gifts that my late April garden has to offer are, of course, the flowers. After the browns and grays of the winter landscape, the colors of the spring blossoms are a tonic for the spirit, and April is the time when many of the plants, with their fresh new growth, are at their very best before they are weighed down by the heat and humidity and drought of summer, not to mention by serving as a buffet for insects. April offers us that first flush of bloom when hope is still in the air and the perfect garden of our dreams is still possible.

April is the month when the water lilies in the goldfish pond start to bloom.

And, of course, amaryllises are among the first bloomers in the garden. Some, like this one, are still blooming here at the end of the month.

St. Joseph's lilies still bloom.

And the 'Red Lion' amaryllis still roars.

This little tricycle planter was a gift from my son-in-law a few years ago, and I enjoy planting it up in the spring. This year it has lobelia, coreopsis (not in bloom yet), red kalanchoe, and a lime-colored pothos.

The yarrow is blooming.

And so is the 'Silky Gold' asclepias.

The old-fashioned petunia that reseeded itself continues to be full of fragrant blossoms.

Many of the roses, like this 'Dortmund' are in bloom now.

'Monkey Business.'

The climber 'Peggy Martin' lives on the side of my garden shed.

'Molineux,' a David Austin rose.

This is my antique polyantha 'Caldwell Pink,' just beginning its bloom.

Near a small sitting area close to the front door, a 'Double Radazz' Knockout is in full bloom.

Nearby, pots of wax begonia and gazania daisies welcome visitors.

More of the dark blue lobelia helps fill a wicker planter in the sitting area. Notice the small anole on the wall above the lobelia.

The yellow variety of the plant sometimes called the "hummingbird yucca" is beginning its bloom. It also comes in red, which is the favorite of the hummingbirds, but they will visit this one, too.

The 'Little John' dwarf bottlebrush is beginning its bloom.

And so is the old heirloom buddleia, a passalong gift from a friend whose grandmother once grew it. Butterflies love it.

The gerberas in the pots by the patio are blooming.

'Hot lips' salvia.

This is tickseed which will soon be covered in these pretty little blossoms.

The southern magnolia gives us masses of these creamy white blossoms in late April and throughout May. Their beauty almost makes up for the mess made by the dropping leaves.

We couldn't have April without daylilies. The earliest of the early varieties have begun their bloom. This one will rebloom again later in the year.

Walking in the garden in April or simply sitting and looking can make me forget all about weeds and drought and bad insects and aching backs and knees. In these halcyon days, I can only remember the pleasure of being a gardener. Whenever I have a bad day in the future, I'll remember April and know that it will come again and that its gifts are worth waiting for.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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