Each Little World

In a Vase on Monday:

We are supposed to see a boost in temperatures and perhaps get a little rain over the next few days. Both should help the garden move forward. We are advancing but very slowly as you can see by the vases I did this week. Iris reticulata have been blooming for a number of days so they went into a little purple vase in the bathroom. 

The ferns are the ones I bought at the grocery store during the winter to give me something green and growing while I waited for Spring. Not sure if the Iris is 'J.S. Dijt' or 'George.' I planted both varieties in the same border last autumn not realizing how similar they were. I can't quite see the difference myself.

My original two Hellebores sited next to the house are still the only ones actually blooming — and looking worse for all the bad weather they've been through. But I did find one bloom worth clipping. 

The tray is from Target, the lacquered scoops are a gift my sister brought me from Japan when she visited there many years ago. The table runner is also Japanese; it's Sakiori or rag weaving. And the pomegranates are Christmas leftovers that I am slowly drying. Not sure how much this counts for IVOM as the flower is the least noticeable part of this display. 

To see what other gardeners have put in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this magical Monday meme. 

Poetry month

I went to school in the days when teachers often had us memorize and recite poetry. It was an exercise I always enjoyed. I often worked on memorizing text — poems, the Gettysburg Address, JFK's Inaugural Address — while walking over to my best friend's house in high school. It was a long walk!

Years later, when I was an editorial writer, my boss sometimes began edits and opinion columns with poetry. That habit spurred me to keep an anthology of poetry at my desk. I would read it when I could not think of how I wanted to begin whatever I was writing or just need a break from my own words crowding my head. It got me used to reading and enjoying poetry as something that was part of my daily life rather than an elite and rare endeavor.

I've never gotten into using my phone or whatever to listen to music, books or podcasts while walking at the gym. Instead I use the time to learn poems. I print them out on paper which I fold up and put in my pocket. I take it out and look at a line or two and then keep reciting it as I walk. I recite out loud, though not loudly. You learn better that way and you can put some oomph into how you declaim. I figure if anybody notices me talking to myself, they may see I am holding a piece of paper and realize I am practicing something — perhaps my speech for a major award!

One day, a woman asked me what I was doing. When I told her I was memorizing poetry, we had a long talk on the subject. From then on she would check on what I was learning and we would talk poetry. Most people don't bother with poetry which made me wonder about Sandy Stark (above) and her interest in the subject. So I "googled" her and discovered she was a published poet! I immediately went looking for her books: The Toolbox Poems and Counting on Birds. Found them at Mystery To Me Bookstore on Monroe St. where I bought them, brought them home and dove in.

Given that Sandy is a Midwesterner, birder, prairie enthusiast and woman of a certain age, almost every subject she addressed in her poems resonated with me. Her work displays a keen eye and ear and an ability to engage with the world at both its most amusing and deeply poignant moments. I've kept these poems on the table next to my reading chair so I can delve into them at random. Not when I need a break from life, but as a way to engage more deeply with it. How wonderful to discover a poet in the last place where I'd have gone looking for one. 

You can order Sandy's book from your local independent bookstore as well as on Amazon.

I've memorized poems that have resonated with me in the past as well as some I've recently discovered. In the midst of struggling to learn Tennyson's "Ulysses," it occurred to me that song lyrics qualified as poetry so I took a break and memorized a couple of tunes. Here's what I've learned so far:

To His Coy Mistress, Andrew Marvell, 1681

End of Summer, Stanley Kunitz, 1953

Postscript, Seamus Heaney, 1996

Last Before America, Louis MacNiece, 1940s

Three from Shakespeare:

    O Mistress Mine (one of Feste's songs from "Twelfth Night"),

    Prologue from "Romeo and Juliet,"

    Fear No More the Heat of the Sun (a song from "Cymbeline")

You're the Top, lyrics by Cole Porter, 1934

The Parting Glass, Scottish traditional song

If you have a favorite poem that you think is worth committing to memory, do put its title and author in a comment and I will consider adding it to my repertoire.

I'm confused . . .

and so are the plants. Gallanthus 'Magnet' is still blooming strongly at the end of April.

But the long row of Hellebores that line the fence are not visible at all. 

Clumps of Trillium sessile are huge and looking quite good despite their recent snowy burial. 

Lilium martagon 'Mrs. R. O. Backhouse' does not let anything slow her down. 

Paeonia Mairei is a Chinese peony and, like all species Peonies, blooms very early. Not this year. 

Helleborus orientalis 'Sympathy' is one of the few Hellebores in the garden that is visible and on the way to blooming. 

Here's what Paeonia Mairei and Helleborus 'Sympathy' looked like last Spring on April 22.

I put this bouquet together on April 23rd last year. Not one of these flowers is up this year, though leaves and buds of some of them are at least visible. The weather has been much warmer and sunny but we are still going down into the 30s overnight. So Spring is here — almost. 

Unhappy Anniversary

Ten years ago today the last print edition of The Capital Times daily newspaper rolled off the presses here in Madison. Though the paper continues today with an online presence and a weekly news tabloid, it's not the same. Though I often read much of it online, we subscribe to a paper copy of the New York Times;  I want the print product to exist as long as possible. The NYT also has the distinct advantage of looking like the print edition when you open it online and it is easy to navigate, unlike the local papers which are as difficult to figure out today as they were when they first had an online presence.

I was just a year or two away from retirement in 2008 and was the first person who walked into HR and signed up to take the buyout. When your job title is eliminated from the list of positions in the reorganization of the company, the writing on the wall is very clear. I was lucky that I had been at the paper long enough that I got a very good severance package. And my husband could continue to work at his job as long as he wanted — and he carried our health insurance, so I can't complain. My actual job did not really disappear under the restructured setup, just what they called it. It was split into two positions which I've always thought was a nice touch of poetic justice. 

I love being retired — especially at the moment when I can garden to my heart's content. But I still miss my local paper arriving at my house every afternoon. 

. . .

FYI: I'm in the blue turtleneck sweater just behind the woman in pink. This blog  is the replacement for my newspaper column that ran in City Lights Newsmagazine and The Capital Times for 25+ years. 

A new toy

We have two wheelbarrows: His and hers. For years they've both been black plastic models, just different sizes. Last year Mark replaced the front tire on his machine which gave it a new lease on life. The bed of my wheelbarrow, however, was no longer attached to the handles as the screws had rusted out. It worked if you didn't tip it up but definitely was on its last legs.

We use traditional single front-wheel models, otherwise we could not fit them on the narrow stone bridge that lets us cross the dry stream. Pedestrians can hop onto the wooden bridge but we created an alternate route for lawn mowers and such. We usually stick with neutral colors for garden equipment so it doesn't stand out like a sore thumb. But this time Mark surprised me with  a bright new tool that won't be so easy for me to misplace in our big garden. 

Primulas

Do you own any of the superb "plant lover's guides" that are published in association with the Kew Royal Botanic Gardens? I just bought my sixth title in the series: Primulas. I already own their guides to ferns, Epimediums, Geraniums, snowdrops and tulips. At $24.95 they are comparatively cheap for a book with full color images on every page. They are a comfortable size to read and hold at 8 inches x 9 inches. All of them are packed with information and written by experts on the particular plant like Robin Parer on Geraniums.

The primrose book is by Jodie Mitchell and Lynne Lawson of the famed Barnhaven Primroses nursery. Unlike many books coming from a UK publisher, almost all the primroses in the book can be grown in my Zone 5 garden, and many can take even colder weather. So it is a great addition to my garden library. 

At the moment, I am growing nine different Primula varieties: P. bulleyana, P. denticulata, P. elatior, P. japonica, P. juliana, P. kisoana, P. sieboldii, P. veris (below) and P. vulgaris.  Almost all retain their foliage throughout the growing season and some even periodically re-bloom. While there is some variety in flower and leaf shape and size, the real variety in primroses is in their flower color.

You can find almost any color you want from white and the palest pinks to deep red-oranges and blues — to stripes. If you are looking for a specific color or shade, it is best to buy plants in person when they are in flower if that is possible. One of my favorite local nurseries — The Flower Factory — carries ten different primrose varieties, including some I am not familiar with, so I have done that. Only a few of the ones I grow are named varieties. If I decide to try my hand at raising some of the more unusual primroses like P. auricula, then I will likely look for very specific varieties. 

In my garden, three varieties in particular — P. japonica (red, below), P. kisoana (above) and P. sieboldii  (white, below) — all have spread nicely. Their leaves are recognizable when they are still tiny making it easy to pull them and replant or discard. Many primroses also like fairly most soil as long as it is not waterlogged in winter, which I am actually able to provide in a number locations .

In a vase on Monday: At last

The last time I posted a vase with flowers that came from my garden was a snowdrop offering on March 23rd. Last year by this time I had a wealth of early flowers to pick for Monday displays. Not so this year. 

The snow from last Wednesday's record storm will all disappear from the garden today; at least that's what I'm hoping. But plants in sunny areas started blooming as soon as their heads were above the snow, so I managed a little vase this week: Iris reticulata 'Harmony', Chionodoxa (Glory of the Snow) and one 'Snow Bunting' crocus. I am always surprised by how purple flowers that look quite blue in the garden seem when put in a blue vase. Photographing them adds another layer of distortion as well. But enough of that talk. I could not be happier to have the garden springing back to life at last.

I used to think of Etta James and her signature song whenever I said "at last." But ever since January 20, 2009, this is what that song conjures up. A lovely song and a lovely memory to start the week. 

To see what other gardeners have found to put in a vase this morning, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this wonderful meme.

Educated

Every Monday afternoon I meet a group of women friends for coffee at a shop near my favorite branch library. We spend two hours discussing politics, history, art, textiles and stitchery, movies and TV. But a great portion of our time is always spent talking about books. Loaning them to each other often follows.

Which is how I came home with a copy of Tara Westover's memoir, "Educated." I brought it home with me from last Monday's coffee gathering and picked it up Wednesday afternoon when our latest snowstorm began and I needed something to take my mind off the weather. It more than did the job.

Based on brief descriptions you might initially assume that Tara Westover's memoir is similar to JD Vance's "Hillbilly Elegy." Both authors grew up in families who were poor and backward in many ways, though Westover's was rural and Vance's urban. But the characteristic that really separates their stories — at least to me — is gender. Westover's curiosity, desire to know and be her own person are perversions of the role of women according to her family. Learning that there is nothing wrong with her is the hardest part of her education.

Westover's command of language can move from waxing lyrical about nature and weather to gritty descriptions of construction work and its attendant injuries; stopping on the way to delve into family relationships, the nature of reality, discovering who writes history and the enduring harm caused by abuse and violence. At the same time, Westover's book reads at times like a thriller with ghastly tragedies and dramatic escapes. Many chapters left me breathless and afraid to turn the page. But once I started the book I could not put it down and read it straight through in 24 hours.

This may well be the best book I will read this year; certainly it will be the most harrowing.

Last snow

Today's high is supposed to be 46 degrees F. (7.77 C.)  with daily highs for the next ten days between 50 (10 C.) and 60 degrees F. (15.55 C.). That means this snow should disappear fairly quickly. Despite being frustrated by such an unseasonably late storm, it may have been the prettiest snowfall of the season as these photos of Mark's show. But it definitely had better be the last one as well!

These are all views of the back garden from the east to the west side taken during the storm late yesterday afternoon.

UPDATE AT 10:30 AM: According to a news story I just saw, this was the biggest snowfall of the season at 7.2 inches!!! It also set a record for snowfall for the date and for the coldest high temperature for that date as well at only 33 degrees F.

It could be worse . . .

It started snowing around noon and has not stopped. We both keep saying how lovely the garden looks. And it does. It's the weather and there is nothing we can do but sit here and wait until it changes.

Lest we think we are somehow alone in our misery and complaining, the Washington Post had a front page weather story today, whose headline declared: 'It's the coldest and snowiest April on record near the Great Lakes, and residents are 'fuming'.

According to the WP story, "the average temperature in Madison so far this month of 31.1 degrees, is the coldest on record, and about 13 degrees below normal." As Mark said, it's not our imagination that it is unusually cold.

But my sister and other relatives live in Erie, PA and get this: That city "is within 1.5 inches of becoming the first big city (with a population of at least 100,000) to receive 200 inches of snow in a season. Accumulating snow is in the forecast on Thursday" for them. Frankly I would want to get that last little bit to break the record and then hope this year is an aberration and not the beginning of what climate change is going to bring us. 

Richard Hawke of the Chicago Botanic Garden was going to be in town for a presentation tonight to the Wisconsin Hardy Plant Society on 30 years of plant evaluations at CBG. Hawke is always worth hearing so we are all hoping he can be rescheduled. Who would have believed his talk would get cancelled on April 18 by a serious snow storm?