I’m probably not alone in preferring to work indoors whenever it’s cold and wet outside; and in going absolutely bonkers if I can’t get outside whenever the sun is warm and the air is soft and lovely. But from now until late May, June we have to be in both places – in the greenhouse and out in the gardens – at once so we made sure to grab for the first opportunity to get outside while the getting was deliciously pleasant.

Yesterday, after potting on a few trays of last fall’s tender-perennial cuttings, Mary and Pat (Florabundas), and Gail and I went out to tidy up the Moon Gate bed. It’s so much easier to cut epimedium and lily turf (Liriope muscari) back before they start to grow and luckily they hadn’t yet. – Of course it’s not so easy to cut back liriope if there are miniature daffodils growing incognito inside of it… (Note to self: don’t plant drifts of liriope too near drifts of miniature daffodils ever again. I would give half a thought to cutting the liriope back in the fall and forgo its winter-evergreen-ness if I didn’t enjoy a challenge.) Next on the list is rose pruning – climbers first. After that, in the next couple of weeks, we’ll get going on to cleaning winter out of all of the gardens.

It’s time.

We’re not the only ones to take advantage of the first opportunities – bees were out working the open snowdrops; birds are LOUD; and something – several things? – is filling my face with pollen. As powerful as my sneezes are, I could guess that I’m not providing an efficient pollination service for these plants. The wind-born really don’t need me or anyone else to help. (What is blooming so invisibly perniciously right now? – Arborvitae? Cryptomeria? Yew? Incidentally, there was a really interesting article about allergenic street trees in the NYTimes last year. I still have the deciduous wind-borns to look forward to… )

Have you had your first fair weather opportunity to get out in the garden yet? What have you done so far? (Is anyone else plagued by their favorite season?)

Yesterday’s snow flurries and bitter chill felt a little like a set back but March still somehow manages to take another two steps forward for every one back. It’s no longer enough to patrol the garden for changes only once a week. It’s much better (March better?) to take a daily march (enough with the puns) outside and goodness knows the timing is really perfect for taking a break from the horrifying headlines that I can’t seem to look away from when I’m cooped up indoors.

If I didn’t scan the gardens every day now I could have easily missed the Iris reticulata that only blooms for a millisecond (i.e. a week) and I might not catch the Lonicera fragrantissima, which refused to burst in time for Garden Bloggers Bloom Day today (hosted as always by Carol of May Dreams Gardens.) I predict it will take another day or so of sun before its scent lures our rare early spring visitors to a forgotten corner of the Rose Garden, and gives us something to do with our noses while we prune the roses (next week).

No one could miss the witch hazels that have been in bloom for a month but I wouldn’t want to lose another single day with them. Honestly, I don’t know why anyone would wait for forsythia when there are witch hazels (Hamamelis spp.) in February, Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas) – open just enough today to count as blooming – and spice bush (Lindera benzoin) on its way, all for earlier cheerful yellowness.

And getting down – way down- to take a look at the crocus is an excellent warm-up for all of the getting down and up again we’re going to have to start doing so soon now, she says while massaging her stiff lower back…

Are you marching right along with March? How about your garden?

My brain thinks I don’t like March much. Looking out at rain pouring over a taupe-loafer colored world, it’s not too difficult to understand why… The whole idea of March just seems fraught with drear and impatience and interminable, unrequited, desperate hope.

But the reality of March (aside from the current deluge perhaps) is so much more lovely. I went away for a week – not away really, I was only at home – and during that short time there were so many changes. The birds are suddenly singing in earnest – the mourning doves and redwing blackbirds are back – and nothing sounds more like spring. Dawn comes during my morning walk (at least until this Sunday); buds on trees and shrubs are swollen and a few trees – early maples – are already in bloom.

The Hellebores are waking up – stinking hellebore (H. foetidus) of course is already up and about before everyone else, like a scullery maid preparing for the day. (Who else is addicted to Downton Abbey?) The sun – when it’s out – actually feels warm now and it’s getting harder and harder to resist getting into the gardens to start cleaning up. Next week we’ll warm up to it by at least cutting back the liriope and epimedium… and we’ll see if we can stop there. Given the potential for another wild swing to freezing, it may still be a little early to uncover other things…

And it wouldn’t be March, and March wouldn’t be so great without skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) in bloom in the swamps and crocus opening all over in fluffts and drifts.

…Why we don’t all plant hundreds of crocus and snowdrops in our lawn is completely beyond me…

What are you finding to love about March?