Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day - March 2020; Poetry Sunday: In Perpetual Spring by Amy Gerstler

March brings a plethora of blooms to my garden here in zone 9a near Houston.

March, of course, means azaleas. The blooms of mine are fading now, but just a week ago it was in full bloom.

 Likewise, the Carolina jessamine only a few days ago was a wall of blooms.

 It has dropped most of its blossoms by now but still hangs on to a few.

 The 'Peggy Martin' rose continues in full bloom.

 The pot of pansies on the patio table bloom on.

 As do their cousins, the violas.

 Snapdragons are still in bloom.

 The loropetalum is at its most floriferous now.

 The camellia has been the star of the show for a while.

 The redbud is full of blooms and full of bees enjoying them.

 Purple oxalis.

 Indian hawthorn.

 A single delicate blossom of the Tradescantia 'Purple Queen'.

The blue plumbago has continued to send out a few blossoms all winter long. It never got cold enough to cause it to die back.

 Dianthus.

 And more dianthus.

Coral honeysuckle, a favorite of the Rufous Hummingbird that has spent the winter with us.

 Meyer lemon.

 Mandarin orange.

 Satsuma orange.

 The pomegranate tree is sporting buds.

 The yarrow is almost there.

 And so is the oleander.

 Hibiscus.

 Shrimp plant.

The delicate flowers of the purple ground orchid.

It has been a dry March so far. My garden could really use some rain. But I won't complain too much. Yet.

I hope your garden is getting just the right amount of sunshine and rain. Happy Bloom Day and thank you, Carol of May Dreams Gardens, for hosting our monthly visits.

~~~

I think Amy Gerstler must be a gardener. She seems to understand gardens very well.

In Perpetual Spring

by Amy Gerstler


Gardens are also good places
to sulk. You pass beds of
spiky voodoo lilies
and trip over the roots 
of a sweet gum tree,  
in search of medieval 
plants whose leaves, 
when they drop off 
turn into birds
if they fall on land,
and colored carp if they 
plop into water.

Suddenly the archetypal   

human desire for peace   

with every other species   

wells up in you. The lion   

and the lamb cuddling up.

The snake and the snail, kissing.

Even the prick of the thistle,   

queen of the weeds, revives   

your secret belief

in perpetual spring,

your faith that for every hurt   

there is a leaf to cure it.