April 1st was overcast, dreary, windy, and cold, yet there I stood in my yard, without a coat or hat, admiring about a dozen yellow garden daffodils, which seemed to have sprouted overnight. An early Spring gift from Lee.
At Deer Tick Manor, I remember seeing her step inside our house, tired from laboring under a warming sun, ruddy, yet smiling. I watch her sip from a tall glass of cool water. A few minutes pass, then she returns to her plants.
Lee loved to work the soil. She loved to plan a garden.
The gardens at Deer Tick, and the gardens here. Sometimes I wonder whether the young couple who purchased Deer Tick Manor after Lee passed maintains them. Maybe one day I’ll have occasion to drive by the tract and find out for myself.
Today, here at home, as the sole beneficiary of her careful planning, I reap the benefits throughout the spring, summer, and fall. Indeed, to my eyes, the grounds remain pleasant to look at with the onset of winter, after the trees have shed their leaves.
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A local botanic garden lauds daffodils, describing the spring favorite: “Long-lasting. Sturdy. Cold-tolerant. Fragrant. Sun-loving. Pest-free. Gorgeous in a vase. Despised by deer.” That says it all, I suppose.
Even though only a few clumps of these bright flowers are visible at present, I know more will soon follow. Like everything else Lee planted, their prominent placement at the front of a raised bed was no accident.
***
Based on long experience, I know the yard won’t reach its peak of color or fragrance before mid-June. Nonetheless, I like these early days of spring best of all. The annual miracle of renewal takes place in its own time and at its own pace. In due course, plants will revive and rise. Their fresh flowers emerge to attract new bees and other pollinators. Soon, the returning birds will settle in for another long stay, joining their hardier brethren who live here around the year.
Eventually, a full tree canopy will emerge, but for now, I only see hints of the smooth, new leaves that will grow rapidly once our temperatures rise in earnest. This could still be a week or two off, I imagine. Only then will the returning birds and other small tree creatures appear in force to forage and raise young.
Meanwhile, I sense the garden Lee made is about to return. Despite such dreary weather, I feel exhilarated and uplifted.
