You know how people tend to talk about the good old days? Last year, March in Cleveland (and in most of the country) was the warmest ever and April was actually colder than March. However, there are also the bad old days when a cold snowy March was the norm and we greeted April with hope that the worst was behind us. This spring seems to be following the example of the bad old days – a miserable March and so far, merely a tantalizing April. It’s cloudy and cold; the next few days are sunny and warmish; the next few days are cloudy and cold again.
I had snowdrops and winter aconite blooming in January but now I have another batch blooming. These were hidden under the dead foliage of my ornamental grasses that I finally scythed down last weekend during those few warm sunny days.
Early in the week, my Arabis caucasica was trying to bloom, opening its white flowers to the sun but closing them back up as soon as the clouds reappeared. This early blooming perennial has felted, scalloped, evergreen leaves that create a lovely groundcover. The Anemone blanda were also trying to bloom but like the Arabis closed up as soon as the sun disappeared.
There is also a pink cultivar named ‘Compinkie’ but its flowers have yet to open. I love the variegated cultivar but, unfortunately, most of the foliage has reverted to all green so it’s time to replace it with something new.
Also in bloom this week is Iris reticulata, a tiny one that is a bulb. The one I have is ‘Cantab’, a heavenly shade of blue.
Last week, one of the e-newsletters I receive by the bushel basket published a poem by the humorist Ogden Nash. I thought it was particularly apt and include it here for your enjoyment.
Spring Song by Ogden Nash
Listen, buds, it’s March twenty-first;
Don’t you know enough to burst?
Come on, birds, unlock your throats!
Come on, gardeners, shed your coats!
Come on zephyrs, come on flowers,
Come on grass, and violet showers!
And come on, lambs, in frisking flocks!
Salute the vernal equinox!
Twang the cheerful lute and zither!
Spring is absolutely hither!
Yester eve was dark despair,
With winter, winter, everywhere;
Today, upon the other hand,
“Tis spring throughout this happy land.
Oh, such is Nature’s chiaroscuro,
According to the Weather Bureau.
Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it’s Spring,
And be it far from our desire
To make the Weather Man a liar!
So, blossom, ye parks, with cozy benches,
Occupied by blushing wenches!
Pipe, ye frogs, while swains are sighing,
And furnaces unwept are dying!
Crow, ye cocks, a little bit louder!
Mount, ye sales of paint and powder!
Croon, ye crooner, yet more croonishly!
Shine, ye moon, a lot more moonishly!
And oh ye brooklets, burst your channels!
And oh ye camphor, greet ye flannels!
And bloom, ye clothesline, bloom with wash,
Where erstwhile trudged the grim galosh!
Ye transit lines, abet our follies
By turning loose your open trolleys!
And ye, ye waking hibernators,
Drain anti-freeze from your radiators!
While ye, ye otherwise useless dove,
Remember, please, to rhyme with love.
Then giddy-ap, Napoleon! Giddy-ap, Gideon!
The sun has crossed the right meridian!
What though the blasts of Winter sting?
Officially, at least, it’s Spring!