February Stirrings

     This is the view from my kitchen window.  When we planned this house, significant consideration was given to the placement of a window from which I could see the garden while washing dishes.  It is within this viewing area that I try to have something that lightens my heart no matter what the season.  In Spring it is the mound of Bath's Pink Dianthus stretching their slender stems toward the stone wall.  In early summer it is the soft but stately apricot iris.  In autumn the Anenome Sylvestris and Helenium Bruno will give joy rather than sorrow about another season drawing to a close.  One year I had planned a pairing of Pink phlox and purple balloon flower to take care of late summer.  But the phlox became mildewed, the balloon flower was just uncooperative. Every time I washed the dishes I saw something that "bothered" me.  And so, OUT with the bad, and in with a favorite white salvia and a couple of friendly daylilies to restore my kitchen window "happy place."
     Now it is late February, the wind has not let up in days, making mid-twenties feel like single digits. But this is what I see.........I see hope!!  The trellis marks the spot of the Angelique Clematis that was afflicted with wilt last year. I cut back all the foliage, the plant disappeared but I will be checking this spot daily when Spring comes, to see if Angelique fought back.
     At times I have felt guilty for letting my blog go during the winter.  I had every intention of featuring   a favorite gardening book or a gardener or two who have inspired me.  But the larger part of me knows that just as the roots and bulbs go dormant, perhaps my blog needs a dormant period, too.  Maybe after eight months of gardening passion my central nervous system or my heart needs a rest.  And that is just what I have taken.
     I think the reason there are bare spots at the base of the plants in the picture is because energy is returning to the roots as they seek the sunshine.  Likewise, I feel the deep inside stirrings.  It is certainly not from warm temperatures.  Maybe it is from longer days of brighter sunshine.  Or that I folded down a few corners of the Burpee Seed catalogue yesterday. Or that I am certain I heard a bird on my walk that I never hear in mid-winter, a sound so surprising and fleeting that I couldn't even place it.  Or that a friend in Connecticut reported the sap will soon be running. Whatever the reason, I am filled with gratitude that another season is just around the corner.