I’ve done a lot of grousing about March lately. And it’s almost as if she heard me and said “Oh yeah? You think I’m a drag? I’ll show you how awesome I can be!” Over the last couple of days, the weather has been beyond gorgeous. Quite a few visitors have taken advantage of bright beautiful days to wander the grounds. — But not all of the visitors, at least yesterday, were human. I’ve seen turkeys on the property before but never actual birds with feathers, wattles and all. A skittish trio strutted and lurched across the front lawn right in front of my camera. It looked like a female and 2 males – would that be a happy family or a hot chick with suitors? (My clearest shots only captured a pair – I think it was the female who stayed out of the frame.)

I’m usually on vacation in early March so I can’t tell from my stack of calendars/garden journals, but I have a memory – some vivid memories actually – of really awful weather right about now in recent years. (I know for sure that it was cold and rainy on the 8th two years ago. — Rain makes the knot tighter.) If I go by pictures, last year I took my first shots of skunk cabbage on the 13th. Either I was late spotting them or the skunk cabbage and crocus are early this year. By the looks of some of the skunk cabbage blooms, they may have been up for a while already. Anyone else keeping better track?

Skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) is probably not my romantic ideal of a native wildflower but it is a fascinating creature. I didn’t know (before looking it up on the internet) that the flower, which is a spadix inside a spathe hood, produces heat. It’s one way of attracting pollinators – the other way being a foul odor (I did know about that). The heat they produce is also useful for busting through frozen ground earlier than almost anything else.  Today’s pollinators were honeybees – I’m not sure I’d just love the taste of skunk cabbage honey but the bees will take what they can get this time of year and skunk cabbage knows it. Another fascinating thing is that the roots grow and then contract like muscles pulling the plant ever deeper into the ground. The older the plant the more deeply embedded. The pointy bud that shows alongside the bloom spathe, and should have been showing actually since the fall (though I never noticed it), is a spiral of leaves that will unfurl as the flowers wilt. To see skunk cabbage in action, look around swampy areas – most of ours are down by the water garden. It’s an eye test – all but the most solidly burgundy-colored are well camouflaged right now in the dapple and leaf debris.

Have these last few days been better than average in your garden too?

Nature is out there making all sorts of promises and I intend to hold her to them. I am not afraid of spring. I know what’s coming. My eyes are open and I’m ready for it.

Some might say that spring is – or at least ought to be – a gardener’s least favorite season. There’s too much to do and not enough daylight to do it. The possibilities are so endless that a gardener could conceivably become paralyzed with indecision and the coming season holds so much potential that we could easily feel overwhelmed.

Whatever.

I love spring the very best – always have. If it weren’t for spring, there would be no reason for summer, fall, and winter. What would be the point? Besides, is there anything better than the spring tease of new growth busting out? – Much sexier than the undressing of fall – though I love that the very best too. I know that the work through the next few months will be mentally and physically challenging at times and the hours long but I can honestly say that I’m looking forward to it.

The crocuses are up at Blithewold – look carefully and tread lightly – especially in the grassy vicinity of the Osage orange by the North Garden. Stinking hellebores (Helleborus foetidus) have started to open by the Moongate; tulip foliage tips have emerged (don’t tell the deer); and of course buds everywhere are swelling. The weekend forecast is for near 50°F and sunny. Spring is a promise. Bring it on.

Maybe I was too hard on March. Last week, like a miracle, a light switched on during my morning dog-walk. And today dawned with blue skies and sunshine. Maybe March isn’t going to be as dreary as I thought?

Then again, day-light savings is coming up (March 14) and will throw my morning back into the night and there’s snow in the forecast for later today and through most of the rest of the week. I guess the deal with March is that it forces us to not take any of the good stuff for granted and to appreciate every single sunny moment to the fullest. And at least the sun, when it’s out, is starting to feel warmish.

Gail and I took advantage of today’s sunny moment (which lasted pretty much the whole day after all) to search for signs of spring – it’s evident in the 4” high daffodils, emerging tulips (- got to get the deer-off on!), the red buds on maples and yellow haze of willows, and a rumor spread by a favorite visitor about a crocus blooming somewhere on the grounds. Gail cut some more forsythia – it shouldn’t take long to force, maybe a week. And we spent most of the day organizing the greenhouse and making space for seeds, which we’ll start sowing in earnest this week. (Starting with perennials, biennials like foxglove, some cabbages and kale, calendula, snapdragons… Dick’s onions, leeks, and artichokes are already coming up.)

Meanwhile, Fred and Dan have been diligently pruning trees and shrubs all over the property. The best time for dormant pruning is any above-freezing day before the buds break. They are not ones to wait for sweater weather, like me…

All in all, there’s plenty to work on, lots to look forward to and I appreciate a slow start to spring – and I really shouldn’t knock March (- it might knock back). Have you started sowing seeds? Are you bad-mouthing March or getting busy with the pruning instead?