We had a beautiful sunrise this morning; I could see it from bed when I woke.
Last week our gardeners pruned my front yard rose bed. This week I asked them to cut back the red climbing rose, the miniature bamboo, and the leggy, leggy salvia. Now I just have to clean up the yellowed leaves that fell as their branches were cut, and put down compost.
In the back yard, hellebores are raising through last year’s detritus,
and I sense the incense cedar preparing for another year of growth. Such a happy, friendly tree.
My aunt, my mother’s baby sister and my friend, gave us this bowl of red geraniums for Christmas. Cheery as all get out, I set them on a few river stones for better drainage. Don’t want salts to build up.
The ferns of course have been here all along.
I wouldn’t say I’m ready for spring, but I am ready to get ready. I often resist straightforward gardening metaphors but this year I’m all in.
Have a wonderful weekend everyone, from the bottom of my heart.
32 Responses
Thanks, Lisa! You are a natural-born gardener and know your plants. Things around here, plant-wise and otherwise, are still looking rather dreary.. I look forward to Spring. Staying hopeful.
@Jane, I am only a natural born keep-on-tryinger;). I hope our preview of spring feels hopeful and not annoying to those still in deep winter.
We here in the Northeast are having a mild winter this week, but we know that much worse might be in store – or not. But between the upcoming inauguration and having gotten my first dose of the COVID-19 vaccine this morning (thanks to a combination of being old and having a husband who was willing to press redial until he got lucky enough to reach a human being), I finally feel able to hope for spring.
@MJ, Oh, that’s wonderful! Nice work husband, and your mother, for having given birth to you when she did;).
Hi Lisa,
Lovely pics it’s definitely warmer in California.
Luci
@luci, Thanks. I am loving the weather but I admit am concerned for the temps we will have this summer given how warm it is now in January:(
How lovely. Thank you for sharing your garden with us. The geranium is beautiful; I can smell its spice. The incense cedar looks like it’s thriving. Despite everything, or maybe because of everything and the way we are responding so far, I do feel hope. Four more days until what will be—I hope (again) with all of my heart—a time of dignity and transition, and a getting to work on forward movement including shared responsibility (corporations and people) for those who need help, and a sincere attempt to work with others in a way that may yet change hearts and minds. It’s a tall order in our large and divided nation, but I think we can do it. Happy Saturday from my sunny side of the bay to yours. The green, rolling foothills are making me feel more positive, as they always do. xoxoxo.
@Katherine C. James, I love to hear a positive gleam in your voice. It confirms my own feelings but more than that, I am just so glad to see you happy!
Happy New Year. What a lovely, gentle, hopeful post. We are all ready to get ready, I think.
@Amanda, Happy New Year. And thank you so much. People get ready, there’s a train…
Yes even here where we have had snow again this week there are the 1st buds on 2 of our David Austin roses !
@Rukshana Afia, Oh, I hope they are beautiful!
And what’s wrong with a gardening metaphor? I’m quite partial to them, myself. A lovely, lyrical, life-affirming post to start the new year. We have much to look forward to. x
@Naomi Shippen, There’s nothing wrong with them except WASPy avoidance of direct meaning;). Thank you, and so much to look forward to!
The Northeast is still quite quite dormant. The grass is mushy and wet from heavy rains today. The only sign of Spring is the tightly closed buds on the magnolia trees. Your green ferns, hellebores and geraniums look lovely. Very nice that you are able to get your garden space readied for Spring.
@Susan, I remember what the Northeast is like this time of year. To be honest, we will have several more months of chilly days, and, with luck, rain. I hope your magnolia fulfills its promise.
It was such a beautiful morning in central California; though a farmer like me could wish for rain and snow, I think I’ll choose to just enjoy what I’ve been given today. I can’t think of much better gift than a red geranium. Lucky you.
@Kristina, I felt so lucky writing this. And I just pushed my drought fears away for that brief time. Sending good thoughts for the possibility of rain soon.
How lovely your garden is! It’s nice to know there are signs of rebirth and the healing it brings in a state all too ravaged by COVID-19 – I know because my son lives in SF.
Here in the North-NorthEast, we have had a blanket of snow over everything in the garden – even the large spruce trees have boughs weighed down by the snow. There is a hush outside, as footsteps and traffic are muted by the falling snow. As Susan said, the magnolias hold the promise of spring in their silvery buds, and we hold on to that hope for the next few months of winter. Then – lo and behold! suddenly at the end of April or the first week in May, a miracle occurs (recurs). Health and happiness to you and all your readers.
@Martine, I hope your son likes living in San Francisco!
Your comment is lovely. Thank you.
At this dreary time of year in Princeton, we bring brightness indoors with forced Dutch bulbs: our last set of paperwhites are still blooming, the first of several colorful hyacinths is about to burst open, the holiday cyclamen is still vividly magenta, and dormant amarylli are showing signs of life – hopefully these will carry us through until we can force early forsythia branches into yellow masses spreading their sunshine from tall pottery pitchers…
Hope springs eternal – as does the hope for spring!
@Victoire, The hope for spring springs eternal;). I love the sound of the growth you bring about indoors.
I ordered myself a tri-level plant holder while getting a plant stand for a Christmas gift and it arrived this week. At this point it’s inside with some house plants popped into the slots, but in 4-5 months, since I don’t put things outside until May, it’ll look nice on my porch.
My Housekeeper is the real tender of my house plants. Once a week attention is about right for them, but she’s come down with Corona. I hope I can maintain the proper amount of neglect until she returns, and I’m prayful that she’ll be back soon.
@RoseAG, I hope she gets well soon, and that her family is safe.
Does anyone know the winter habits of the weeping beech tree in the Northeast? I am looking for signs of rebirth in a huge tree of that kind near our home. Although the tree retains some leaves that went bronze last fall, I see no signs of rebirth on the tree as yet. When does any growth appear that will signify that winter is on its way out, and spring will come? Lisa, I love what you are able to do with your garden on the West Coast, but I’d be delighted to know when our magnificent weeping beech will give us similar hope.
@Nancy, Seems that no one knows. Whenever I have posed garden questions here someone always directs me to the Master Gardener programs. Is there one in your county/area? Here I could just bring a branch from my sad rose bush and the people working that day told me what they thought the problem was.
Here in northern England we have had thick snow in the past week, which has cleared in time for a predicted week of stormy, wet weather and flooding. Snow is not a given here but wet weather is in the winter and the flooding has become an annual problem in recent years. Consequently my small garden looks a soggy mess but the first snowdrops have opened, tiny green snouts of spring bulbs are appearing and I am planting sweet pea seeds in readiness for better and warmer days ahead. The lilac trees, both in pots, are in bud too. Spring is on its way.
@Annie Green, Snouts! Snouts! Snouts! I will never forget this terminology.
We are having a consistently cold winter, unusual for here, and I am surprised at how much it affects me. It never bothered me in NY, but then winter was more of a force…. Looking forward to spring and your photos brighten my spirits even as I still both love an struggle against the layer of frost on the ground each morning.
@Mardel, I think we absolutely do get used to the climate in which we live, and then when it veers off we feel it in our bones. I really struggle with our increased heat, as you do with your frost.
(First-time commenter, long-time reader!)
What a lovely (and clearly loved!) garden. Regardless of what a psychic onslaught the past year has been, there’s something so grounding and healing to be found in extending a bit of care to the flora. I hope your garden continues to bring you joy.
@Angela, Hello Angela! Oftentimes my capacity to reply to comments dwindles over the course of a week after a post but there is no way in the universe I could let a comment from a long-time reader first speaking up. It is so nice to meet you. Let us all recover from the psychic onslaught together.
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