Even though the daffodils are still blooming their little hearts out I can’t help looking forward to the next thing(s) following hot on their heels. The tulips and cherry trees are just getting going, winter hazel and crabapples are on the way. I’m pretty sure that the spring display is just going to keep getting more and more spectacular. More colorful, anyway. It may be too early to tell, but at least right now my favorite tulips are a color reverse pair in the Cutting Garden — ‘Gavota’, which is red with yellow edges and its opposite, ‘Boston’. And I’m really enjoying ‘Silverstream’ in the Rose Garden. Even though we planted them in the herb garden last year (and again this year) I had forgotten that they start out a paintbox mix of flecked yellows, pinks and reds. So pretty.

And now that we have cut back, tidied, and weeded (mostly) the gardens, divided and redistributed perennials and moved some shrubs like playing musical plants, we’re ready for what comes next. Planting new things! It’s a thrill to finally see the available real estate and begin to envision where the gardens will take us this year that I can hardly wait. But our perennial plant orders haven’t arrived yet and local nurseries haven’t quite stocked up or opened doors yet.

So in the meantime we’re using our gotta-plant energy to catch up on greenhouse work and think about moving out. In fact, the sweet peas went outside last week, ready for planting in the next couple of days, weather permitting. Next out will be all of the nearly-hardy perennials and shrubs like rosemary, phormium (some are out already and didn’t mind the touch of frost the other night), farfugium, camellias, and various and sundry salvias like S. guaranitica and S. leucantha. We’re really on a roll now even though we have to hold our horses a little.

What’s next in your garden? Are you ready to plant new things yet or are you still tidying, weeding, dividing and redistributing (like I am at home)?

Gail and I have talked about using biological controls (getting “good bugs” to eat the “bad bugs” that eat the plants) in the greenhouse but aside from trying to not crash through spider webs on our watering and grooming rounds, and occasionally overwintering praying mantis egg cases in hopes of an early spring hatch, we’ve never tried it. Until now. Our good friend Crystal Brinson dropped off 3 bags of lady bugs this week and already the greenhouse seems tidier. And livelier. According to the package, our ladybugs (Hypodamia convergens) can each eat up to 5000 aphids and then lay eggs that hatch into alligator look-alike larvae that will eat their way to adulthood. Already our releaselings are looking … busy … and should be laying eggs near aphid infestations though I haven’t spotted any just yet.

The same day the ladybugs were released Gail noticed evidence of nature’s own IPM: brand new clusters of baby common or European garden spiders (Araneus diadematus).  They look much too tiny to tackle any full grown flying aphids but they’re already busy stringing webs and no doubt a flash mob (the barest vibration scatters them into action) could make quick work of any prey bigger than they are. I’m thrilled to have two such excellent reasons to hold off spraying insecticidal soap on our aphid and whitefly infested plants.

Have you ever released ladybugs in the garden? Do you have any overwintering in your house? (Crystal says, no worries if you do. They’ll find their way out again the same way they came in.) Any chance they keep your houseplants aphid free?

I have to keep reminding myself that this is normal. It might be unusual to be getting quite so much snow, but otherwise March is really behaving as March should. — Unlike last year when there were days in the 70s and 80s and the daffodils were peaking this very minute. That wasn’t normal. And I don’t wish it was. But it’s hard not to compare this year unfavorably to last. It feels for all the world that spring is late. It’s not. In fact, this year the daffodils might just peak during Daffodil Days, right on schedule. (Fingers crossed.)

Meanwhile, there’s nothing like the greenhouse on a sunny day to cheer me up and keep me on track. This week we had one good sunny morning (between snow showers) and a few volunteers came in to help us start more seeds and groom plants. It’s amazing how even washing leaves doesn’t feel like an odious chore when you’re starved for sun and warmth. And this morning Gail and I (mostly Gail) taught a behind the scenes in the greenhouse/propagation class. It was so lovely in here we went way over our time and it didn’t seem like anyone minded. I know I sound like a broken record but I have to say it over and over like a mantra: If you are feeling as demoralized by the weather as I have been feeling, take advantage of the sun days, even if they’re chilly – especially then – and come on over. The greenhouse door — the south entrance — is unlocked. (It sticks so give it a good bump with your hip to open it.)

Have you taken advantage of any chilly sun days to visit a greenhouse? Are you, by any chance, spending time in your own?

I was only away from Blithewold for a week (and not very far away either — on staycation at home) but it’s amazing how much happened here in that time. Spring happened. Almost. The start of it anyhow. At least inside the greenhouse. The propagation house is chock-a-block full of seed trays — it’s hard to believe we can make more room but Dick, vegetable gardener extraordinaire, was in today to sow some more. And like a clown car, we stuffed four more trays (of eggplants and peppers) on the benches. The sweet peas are all up — and uneaten by mice. Such a pretty sight! The whole greenhouse in fact, is gorgeous. The scent of the Ponderosa lemon in full bloom is enough to knock me over. And our jasmine, which is only about a third open yet, is so strong it’s almost too much. But I’ll take it, breathing deeply, especially since I’ve been away from it. I realize now that I’ve been taking the greenhouse’s early spring totally for granted and even on a raw day like today, it’s kind of heaven in there. (If you’re nearby, please visit. Especially if you’re feeling as demoralized by the weather as I am.)

Outside, since we have another layer of slushy snow on the ground and are being pelted with freezing rain, it’s hard to believe that spring’s official start is only a day away. But there are more signs showing than there were a week ago, mostly in the bed just outside the Rose Garden’s moongate. I took these pictures yesterday… Click on any of the pictures for a bigger view or hover over for the caption.

With weather like today’s, we can be sure that spring – meaning the daffodils – won’t be extra early like they were last year. Probably right on time. We hope. (Did I hear more snow for next week? Say it isn’t so!) We’re opening for the season, snow or shine, on April 2 this year. And then Daffodils Days start up, whether still budded or blooming, on Saturday, April 6. Is March blooming in your garden? How about inside?

Waiting for the Chiltern seed order – which included a dozen varieties of sweet peas – to arrive tested our faith (and taught me a little lesson about putting so many precious eggs in one basket). But Gail and I remained as optimistic as gardeners, and didn’t the package finally land in our mailbox like a little miracle the day after we opened up bench space! We always sow the sweet peas first, during the last week or two of February so that they’ll be sturdy enough to set outside and plant by the last week in April.

Every year I worry all over again that the seeds I sow won’t germinate (and that’s partly why I prefer Beverly, one of the Rockettes, to do it – that, and I love her company). It just seems so unlikely that a whole blooming plant would ever spring from such a tiny package – even if it’s as fat and perfect as these sweet pea seeds – with or without help from me.

Gail and I started some others with the reputation of taking an age to germinate and a few like corydalis and primroses that need alternating weeks in the fridge and out of it. — It’s no wonder I doubt seeds when there’s trickery involved… But unless the seeds are no longer living – some are viable for only a short time after ripening while others can remain dormant indefinitely – they’re hardwired to grow soon(ish) after we trip their trigger by tucking them into moist soil. At least that’s what I remind myself around this time every year. All will be well.

Spring requires the same leap of faith. That buds will stretch into flowers, like the witch hazels already did, and that the birds will sing. A more confident friend reassured me this morning that I didn’t hallucinate hearing a red-winged blackbird’s call. It is, in fact, time for them to come back. Like clockwork. So despite a chill wind again from the north and snow in the forecast, spring is on its way. — Isn’t it?