There are few interests that I take more seriously than my love of flowers. After the cold nights of October and the gray days of November, my garden takes several months of a break from its vibrant life of beauty, and calming graceful vitality.
How I do miss the sun, blossoms, weeds and dirt in the winter months. Come spring, just like the re-birth of the garden; a whole new part of me comes alive.
In February the plotting starts when I pour over seed catalogs. This year spring came early, so planting has too. All the bulbs that I carefully store away each fall get unwrapped from their improvised quilts of newspaper. Digging and designing a more perfected area are all part of the joy of gardening.
Often I second guess myself. Fortunately, I have my Mom as my mentor. She is a true master artist of cottage style gardens.
My Mother is extremely patient and supportive of my novice endeavors. Though our tastes in garden design differ, our passion for creating beauty has been a complimentary effort.
Tomorrow the two of us are driving an hour and a half round trip to pick up a box of calla lilies that I have been thinking about all winter. Some may wonder why one would spend so much time and energy growing plants, but for me, I wonder how anyone can not get inspired by the sheer goodness of growing something real and beautiful. Gardens are a canvas to me. They are the perfect opportunity to create living art, and from now to October, the artist part of myself will be digging in the dirt.