Garden in Spring, 2013 (I)

Spring is indeed the prime time of everything exciting, le printemps. 

The tulips in the garden did very well in April. Cups of solid colours waved in their small circles in the garden. They would have lasted much longer if it had not been for an overwhelmingly windy day on which I harvested an armful of them and secured them in the house. They served as wonderful companions indoors especially when the last bit of wintry chill still lingered around. With the heater on, they would bloom as wide as the size of a palm; however, such artificial warmth had stretched these darling creatures too much that their lives were unfortunately shortened. 

As a gardener, I guess I am not mentally strong enough to bear the thoughts that it is in the end more than natural for plants to sprout, to grow, to bloom, to wither and to die out in its natural surroundings. 

Tulips in April, 2013

Since the first year we moved into the house, one of my keen anticipation for the garden every year rests mainly on a collection of small weedy flowers: forget-me-not, California poppies, pansies, thyme and ivies. Unlike other previous and pricey kinds, such as roses, peonies, hydrangea, or orchids, these small flowers require little attention but quickly carpet the ground with their bright colours when time has come.

April, the beginning of spring 

In May now, the highlight is foxgloves which were planted 2 years ago. In the first year after they put forth shoots, there was  not much progress. They had stayed very small for a long whole year until last autumn. It was surprising how long it took them to get established in soil; yet, it was still not too long for me to lose faith. 

Foxgloves are also part of my imagination/impression of English gardens. These are flowers which seem to cost no efforts to grow in the English weather, but they have become a piece of puzzle integral to my memory about England. 

It has been exciting to see the spikes develop into individual flower-heads, and the creamy flower-heads turn into purple bells. According to Wikipedia, its name, foxglove, derives from foxes' glew - music - as it resembles a kind of musical instrument in ancient times which consists of many bells attached to an arched support. There are also other folk sayings about this plant. For instance, to my preference, in Wales it is said to be the habitat of fairies, thereby the name fairy-folks-fingers in Wales.

I adore their elegant long stems. As the bells swing in spring breeze, it feels as if there is a small music concert going on in the garden, a solo of ringing bells. 

Fox-gloves in May, 2013