I went out into the garden today. A few of the hyacinths were down - too much water in the cups from last night's rain, too top-heavy, too fragile for the less-than-sturdy stalk. So I picked them, and stuck them into a container on the kitchen windowsill. They probably won't last long but while they do my kitchen smells like my grandmother's garden used to do. This makes me oddly content. It would have been her birthday very soon, now, and it's nice to be reminded of her like this.
In other news, the first of my rhodies has blossomed, the second is about to pop, and the third (and the biggest one in my garden) is probably going to be ready within another week or so. My lilacs are budding like crazy and although everywhere else in the town they're already out in full bloom I accept that mine are late-bloomers because of all the trees around here and the fact that they don't get all the light that they should. The upside is that I have lilacs in my garden long after everyone else's are over.
I count thirteen peony buds on my peonies this year. This is cool.
My dogwood is loaded with flower buds. They usually bloom in May which is almost here and that tree is going to be GORGEOUS this year.
I had one solitary tulip set a bud this year... and the deer ATE it before it had a chance to bloom. Oh well. Them's all God's creatures.
Everything's in flower, or about to be.
I love my little corner of the world.