Given that March felt like May and April felt a little like July, it’s been really hard not to move everything outside and start planting annuals and tomatoes as if it’s safe. But then didn’t April end on a sort of February-ish note? That was just the warning we needed (I guess) to sit tight in limbo a little longer. According to the National Climatic Data Center, there’s only a 10% chance we’ll see a frost around here after May 6. So the good news is we won’t have to wait much longer.

I think I’m ready to move out just because that’s next on the list of to-dos. For the most part though, the plants don’t seem to be in a huge hurry. They actually look remarkably healthy and unstressed. Sometimes, if we’re really busy in the gardens in the spring, we come back into the greenhouse and are shocked to see that the plants have gone downhill. But this year because we were able to start working outside so much earlier, we have had ample time to pay attention to the greenhouse despite the lack of rainy days like this one to devote to inside work. Add to that the fact that the winter was so mild that the shading never etched off of the glass so the plants have not been subjected to those sunny spring days that can really set the greenhouse cooking. The plants are still just trucking along like they have all winter.

At home it’s a different story. Gail calls this time “the bewitching hour” because one minute our houseplants look fine and the next time we look at them, which could be weeks from that last time because we’re so consumed with our gardens, they’re infested, wilted, dead, or a combination of the three. They’ll be much happier outside with us. That said, tropical houseplants will have to wait even longer for nights to warm into the 50′s.

If it hadn’t rained today (we needed it – again!) we would have planted sweet peas. It already feels late to get them in the ground because we usually plant them the last week in April. Maybe tomorrow. After that we’ll watch the night temperatures and continue the methodical move out of the greenhouse. Marginally hardy plants like phormium and rosemary are out already and have been perfectly fine. But then we didn’t get the frost that some did.

Have you started moving houseplants out yet? Have you been able to resist planting tomatoes?

Why is it that a pack full of seedlings is a thrilling thing and a carpet of seedlings in the garden is alarming? I once got in big trouble with a friend for bringing teasel (Dipsacus fullonum) seedlings to a plant swap because when they grow up they do this:

So do a lot of plants. I wonder if some gardeners’ preference for seedlings in packs is a control thing. We know how many we’ve sown and despite it being more time consuming to carefully transplant these guys, we’ve got a grip on them, so to speak. Now, I would definitely qualify as a control freak – I generally prefer to be in the driver’s seat. But when it comes to seeds and seedlings, I’d much rather ride shotgun. It’s so much more relaxing. With self-sowers I never have to worry about timing. They come up when they come up. I don’t have to fret about their care because they’re fine on their own. And I can still take over the wheel by weeding out the ones I don’t want and carefully transplanting any that didn’t fall where they should have. What isn’t awesome about that?

Teasel seedlings are especially easy. Because they’re biennial, we have a whole summer to decide where we want them. We can leave their carpet as an excellent weed barrier, at least until the garden grows up around them, and then allow a select few to winter over wherever we think we might want next year’s towers. And we even have time now to move 2nd year seedlings if their placement isn’t just right. (Because of their tap root, we have to dig deep).

We’ve been doing that a lot with another biennial, forget-me-not (Myosotis sylvatica), and I have big plans for the extra love-in-mist (Nigella damascena) seedlings in the cutting garden. Pretty soon we’ll have self-sowers spread out in the garden enough that they’ll always come up where we want them. All we’ll have to do after that is remove the ones that are “too many”. Easy. (Or is that what some of us don’t like to do? It can be awfully heart-wrenching to compost a healthy plant…)

Speaking of carpets, I can’t let a Daffodil Days post go by without saying how beautiful they still are. Still peaking. And meanwhile the tulips are starting to open and the cherry trees are gorgeous. It keeps getting prettier and prettier. (And I’m not just saying that because I want you to visit.)

Do you find seedling carpets a little bit scary or are you thrilled to see plants come back gangbusters? Can you thin and edit the seedlings without cringing?

I really don’t know what to make of this season. The last few days have been in the bird-song-balmy 50′s but we woke this morning to fat flakes. They have already turned to freezing rain and I would say we have finally turned the corner from a spring-like winter to a winter-like spring. It’s been really tempting to jump the gun on spring – Gail and I haven’t been able to stay out of the garden tidying up. And we’re not the only ones: the autumn blooming cherry (Prunus subhirtella ‘Autumnalis’) has a hair-trigger for spring too. Poor thing is blooming away, again, in the snow. Might not look like much in actual spring this year and it will be interesting to see if any tiny cherries develop. (The bees might have been on it in the last few days anyway.)

I know it’s springter and the official start of the garden-calendar year because we sowed the sweet peas this week, right on a President’s day schedule. (Washington’s birthday to be exact.) We haven’t gotten all of our seeds in yet so we started the ones I ordered from Unwins and a few I was offered for free from Renee’s Garden (I’m on a free-trial list through my Garden Writers Assoc. membership.) Even if we had purchased them, which we have in the past, I would have to say that Renee has some of my favorite varieties (Blue Celeste, Watermelon, Cupani’s Original) and is very generous with her seeds. I like that. The more sweet peas the better especially since they seem to be tempting to our newest greenhouse tenant. It’s been a while since we’ve had mice and I’m not sure what I’ll do if they work their way through a top and bottom barrier of appropriated row-cover cloth.

We started the sweet peas in cowpots, and rather than nick or soak the seeds (I inevitably ruin seeds and destroy my fingers by trying to snip or file the seedcoat off) we simply sow them about a 1/4″ down, put them in our coolest greenhouse, and wait. Our mouse unearthed evidence that they are already beginning to swell out of their coat. In another week or two, any that remain uneaten should begin to emerge.

Are you sowing sweet peas this year? What marks the start of your garden-calendar year?

Going by the calendar it seems too soon to be out in the garden tidying up but it’s awfully hard to resist when the weather is warm, the birds are singing, and all signs point to spring. Yesterday was just about the first chance Gail and I have had to get reacquainted with the Display Garden. We got a jump on cutting back everything that was starting to self-destruct: the grasses were beginning to blow themselves around the property; teasel had fallen over like drunken giants and most of the salvias looked like someone had sat on them. It couldn’t have been the snow… Verbena bonariensis and sea holly aren’t handsome anymore and the butterfly weed was mostly flattened too so we cut all of those down. Any pretty seedheads still standing we left for later.

After getting a good look at the garden we have a better idea of what probably survived the winter and what we’ll need to reorder – perfect timing because we’ll put our first plant orders in next week. I had decided last summer that I could never garden again without Muhlenbergia capillaris and looked forward to knowing if it was going to prove hardy here. Unfortunately the voles couldn’t live without it either. I’m sure that it would have survived the winter if it hadn’t been eaten to nubs so it’s going back on the wishlist.

We also couldn’t resist going back inside for our annual seed swap lunch with some great friends, one of whom is a self-proclaimed “propagating fool” who can’t pass a plant that has gone to seed without collecting pocketfuls. The swap is always just the excuse we need to go through our seed cupboard. Gail found a few forgotten unsown treasures and lots of saved keepers. The closer we come to spring, the readier we are to have at it.

You too? Have you gotten reacquainted with your garden yet? Have you participated in a seed swap? (Did anyone bring a tin of cookies?)

Last but never least, are the little things I love. You know I am all for outstanding plants – I always have to grow a few big ones that grab attention and don’t let it go for a minute. Fuller’s teasel, castor beans, and my very favorite 6 footer, Gomphocarpus physocarpus ‘Oscar’ (aka hairy balls) should be high on my list because they simply can’t be overlooked.

But flower-an-hour (Hibiscus trionum) can. I know I’ve mentioned it already this year (last year) but I still can’t believe I let this one pass under my radar for so long. This past summer I discovered a love for the way it weaves itself into the August garden here and there and pops open its flowers as if it doesn’t matter who sees how delicate their creamy white flowers are, and how deep their purple throat. But even if I might miss them, the bees never do.

I’m not usually that into purple flowers (or white ones for that matter) but my other diminutive favorite was Cuphea ‘Ballistic’. The ears! We’ve grown C. ‘David Verity’ from cuttings for years and can’t live without it; and we’re becoming just as addicted to ‘Carribean Sunset’ and Mexican giant cigar plant (C. micropetala) – so smitten with that one in fact that despite it nearly breaking our backs we brought our largest specimen back into the greenhouse. But honestly, it’s little ‘Ballistic’ that just gets me. Typical of cuphea, once it starts blooming it never stops and never needs deadheading either.

And what about the plants that would just as soon be walked on as noticed? Gail and I are both consumed with the notion of lawn alternatives and hoping to replace our own sorry looking lawns with anything that won’t waste endless resources – and doesn’t need weekly mowing. My kingdom for a carpet of chamomile underfoot…

Meanwhile, as I look back and we begin to cast forward to next season’s gardens, the eyelash begonias are beginning to bloom, and the maidenhair ferns are sprouting. I simply can’t help focusing on the littlest things.

What little things are you in love with?