Being impulsive, I decided to be done with the whole thing, to cut down the apple tree and to dig up the rose mallow, to simply forget about inconstant blossoms and not obsess over stuttering growth.
From the rousing, quirky sounds and silhouetted flight of woodcocks in the late winter dusk to the melodious phrases and amusing spectacle of speed-walking robins on sunny, just-raked garden beds, the activities of seasonal arrivals have tuned our response to the swelling spring.
Native peoples celebrated the arrival of ramps with festivals. Some ramp festivals continue in Appalachia to this day. For early Americans, their eager ramp consumption relieved the sores and tiredness of months of vitamin C-depleted winter.
Berkshire Botanical Garden’s annual exhibition of New England springtime flowering bulbs heralds spring's long-awaited, if belated, arrival in the Berkshires.
A few miles inland, birds, plants and people find refuge from traffic, shopping malls, endless concrete and cookie-cutter rows of houses at two other oases.
Wherever the Big Dipper is in the sky, simply “arc to Arcturus” to be assured that you have located the second brightest star visible in northern skies.
My response is to cook the vegetables before they decline, make improvements in storage conditions for the rest of the harvest and refine my choices of varieties for the new growing season.
Touring the garden, perennial herbs and flowers, as well as fall-planted garlic that emerged from snowdrifts scarcely two weeks ago, have been growing quickly since the recent heat wave.
