IN BIRDLAND THE SHOWY SPRING FLOWERS ARE ALREADY FADING. The quince, just yesterday so full of white blossoms it looked like a snowstorm hit, now is full of wrinkled, tea-colored crepe. The peaches have swapped their delicate, pink petals for green, furry marbles. The branches are so full that I'll have to pick some before they grow too big, or the branches will surely break with the growing fruit. After losing last spring’s entire crop of peaches to a late frost, this is a good problem to have. The forsythia has traded its bush of sunshine for green leaves, but we will soon have yellow again, because I went around behind the lilac bush and saw that Grandma's yellow rose is full of buds. These last only a few days, but they will be fragrant and bright.
Now comes the Sweet Rocket, luxurious bouquets on every stem, not quite purple, almost pink, bouncing in the wind. Horseradish answers with its shock of white florets, echoing the Sweet Rocket in shape, like a bridal veil to the bridesmaid pinks. Both are in the cruciferea family (cabbage, broccoli, radish, mustard) with bunches of 4 petaled flowers. Look closely and you'll see 6 stamens in the center of each flower. Four are long, 2 are short. Rain swells the Peony buds to tight golf balls, ready to burst forth in pink, white, magenta, burgundy. Perhaps this year we'll see what color I brought back from Nancy's yard in Indianapolis one fall, a few years ago. We had a digging party, but she couldn't remember the shade the blossoms would be, and we couldn’t tell by the roots. The Iris sends stately stems skyward, and petals unfurl in different colors. For years we only had my grandmother's delicate, faded purple, with the soft, powdery fragrance, but a few years ago I started adding colors, from buttery yellow to a deep purple, almost black. This parade of flowers continues, and I can already imagine the Shasta Daisies that are now in buds that will come, just as the Sweet Rocket is fading.
|My fiancé thinks we can never have|
too many flowers.
For this week our days are filled with projects--organizing and cleaning, with some modest carpentry—to make Birdland ready for our gathering of family and friends. I pull china and books off of shelves and vacuum the thick dust—almost a pelt behind some of the china on the high shelves—while Michael scrapes grout from the shower, replacing some tiles. We have indoor chores and outdoor chores, items to get rid of to make way for fresh beginnings.
|Live in Beauty; Love in Peace; Blessed Be.|