But what of the plants? The daffodils as you can see, are still coming on. I cannot think of a better beginning to a cold-climate spring than the noble daffodil: golden harbinger of the gardening season. They have been blooming here since about April 18th, and I have some planted on the north side of a stone wall who have not yet even opened. They give brightness and joy for a good six weeks and when they finally turn to messy foliage, there is so much else going on around them that I don’t care. Nevertheless, it has not been the best spring for daffodils. They had a spell in April when the weather was so deceitfully warm that they burst forth too hurriedly. The next week some heavy wet snow bowed them to the ground. Daffodils are good sports, regaining consciousness as soon as the temps grow mild again, but no one can take such a battering without a little lessening of spirit… The bottom layer has been slow to bloom. These were the ones I put in last autumn, and in my experience, newly planted daffodils are always tardy the next spring.

In the top row, the peonies are on the rise — great voluptuous red upsurgings that suggest the powerful display that they will become. The daylilies are all up. Their foliage best rewards a gardener’s eye in spring with its new green freshness. Some delphiniums that I started last year from seed have returned. Hallelujah! Blue is very necessary in this garden of fruit colors. The Siberian iris row has new greenery of a completely different nature than the daylilies above it — the blue-gray spears come forth a little later but are more delicate. The Asiatic lilies that I bragged about in my last posting don’t seem to be very much in evidence yet. I’m hoping that they’re just waiting for more reliable weather. Me, too…

The layer next to the bottom will hold my dahlias, and so it continues to look a little empty. The bottom layer has some nice surprises including a deep plum euphorbia — “Chameleon” I believe that it’s called. In the hopes of inserting more blue, I have been trying to get larkspur started in this bank garden. It has been known to reseed itself in other places reliably, and then suddenly, it’s gone. To my mind, though, it is definitely worth extra effort: it grows through and around plants and its intense blue is most welcome. For two years, I’ve sown it assiduously on the bank, usually on April 15th to mark the end of tax season, but the results have been disappointing. This year I waited until rain was forecast and then mixed into a wheelbarrow filled with enriched soil 1 seed packet each of larkspur, annual bachelor buttons and cosmos (certainly not blue, but of which I seem to have many complimentary seed packets and who can have too much cosmos?), and sprinkled shovel-fuls over each layer of the bank. The rain I’m hoping did the rest. I will report on this experiment if I remember to. Which I won’t unless the results can be seen.

The bank will need periodic weeding, but other than that, it is essentially set for summer. Meanwhile, I have been spending time doing other garden chores such as raking autumn leaves off existing beds and making more beds. This past weekend, I made a cotter pin garden. I’m heavily into curves nowadays, and I may have put one too many into this new garden, hence the name, for it looks just like one of the giant cotter pins that holds my husband’s tractor together.

Stepping back and looking everything over, I see that my garden reveals much about my character. I suffer from bite-off-more-than-can-chew disease. Although I never have enough garden space I also never have enough time to take care of all the garden space. This illness is bad enough, but even more destructive is my total disregard for thoughtful pre-planned action. I can make as many garden graphs/drawings as I like, but once out in the dirt, I seem to forget them all! This is absolutely maddening when plant orders come. I had counted on them for one spot and willfully ignoring this, I place them in a completely different spot. Which requires far-flung re-arrangements, taking from here and there, replacing this and that. It adds up to a wonderful day of dirty fingernails and sore muscles. And, I must admit, exaltation. What forgiving joy! Perhaps gardening is the only instance where blatant character flaws have delicious consequences.

My first task is to dig up from my memory all the little surprises I managed to plant before the cold drove me into the house last autumn. After our new kitchen extension was put on the back of the house in 2002, the views from those bright windows cried out for garden beds so I started a terraced bank behind the house. It took two years for me to dig the five layers, and still they need constant adjustment. The above picture that I took this morning shows the pine logs that I use to contain each step and how the ravages of winter have left them in total disarray. They are dislodged by water run-off from storms, by deer stumbling across them, by lawn mowers that catch their edges. However, they will do until a better idea presents itself to me. Each row has a footpath behind it, wide enough for me to crawl along, weeding and muttering and generally communing with things. I usually have a cat in attendance, hiding among the daylily foliage and reaching out a paw now and then to let the weeding hand know who’s boss.

How pleasing it will be to have the entire bank in bloom! For that is the goal. It is still very much a work in progress, and begins the season with an outrageous plethora of daffodils. There is a �peony hedge� at the top, to frame the whole arrangement. Those peonies come and flop and go rather quickly, but their foliage is invaluable for the remainder of the summer. Below them I have a layer of daylilies, one of my favorite perennials. And below them are Siberian irises, planted in dedication to Dr. Currier McEwen. The fourth row went in two autumns ago and was filled last summer with dahlias. I love dahlias but have never given them a space of their own before. Wow� The final row was dug last autumn and planted with late-blooming perennials and blue sages to offset all the tropical fruit colors above. I haven’t seen this row in bloom yet. I�m not that good at regimentation, so when I refer to the �daylily row�, of course it also has alliums and a Siberian iris here or there, and the iris row has a daylily or two and some yarrow. Speaking of yarrow, I would dearly love to have that terra cotta-colored variety that is tall-ish. I have invited it in once or twice, when I�ve been able to get my hands on it, but so far it has not deigned to stick around. Yarrows are undersung, in my experience. They are great bloomers and their foliage is usually interesting as well. The pink does a little too well for me. Coronation Gold has languished in one spot for years. Moonbeam (?) or Moonshine, not sure what it�s really called, is lovely with silvery milli-foliage, but short-lived. I have a white yarrow that I started from seed many years ago that borders on invasive. Quite tall and nice dark green foliage, but very pushy.

A dear friend brought me a dozen Asiatic lily bulbs when she visited and I quickly put those somewhere on the bank. I can�t remember exactly where they went. Actually, the bank has become a repository for all manner of plant. (I tell myself that I might as well experiment with what does well up there � good drainage and really full sun, but actually, it�s because I keep getting new plants and I don�t have anywhere else to put them.) Last year I had good success with a showy annual Lavatera �Silver Cup� planted among the daylilies. It bloomed very reliably for most of the second half of the summer. A container of nasturtiums, on the other hand, which I had hoped would spill charmingly over the dahlia �step� did nothing of the sort and was hardly worth its keep. To fill in the dahlia step, I planted some plain orangey-yellow calendulas all along the front. They were extremely loyal in their blossoms, and their color echoed the daylilies above them.

I hope to be able to report to you on the bank from time to time during the spring and summer. I was just out there this morning and can tell you that there is an encouraging number of green spears coming through. As I look at them, I begin to remember the efforts of last autumn�s race to get into the ground what I had sanguinely ordered from McClure & Zimmerman way back the June before to take advantage of the 10% discount� What luxury to see the fruits of my labors. Daffodils planted in autumn are like money in the bank for the gardener on her own New Year�s Day.