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?

Given that I lost patience with winter way back in December, I’m pretty excited to notice that despite weekly storms and another overnight icing of a wintery mix, spring is starting to win the tug of war. When the sun is out – and the wind isn’t blowing a gale – it’s warm enough to bask a little. Everything is dripping, the ground is squishy, and the birds are singing love songs. Looks at least partly springy out to me. I know I’m probably jumping the gun a little because March is usually disappointingly March-like but I can’t help it. I’m just so ready to see spring in the smallest signs.

The biggest sign of spring is easy enough to see – and feel: the sun is finally high enough in the sky that the greenhouse is getting cooking. By mid-morning on a sunny day over the last couple of weeks it has become so deliciously summer-like in there we have had to strip off sweaters and scarves and squint or put on sunglasses. The plants are responding to the extra light and heat by outgrowing containers, blooming away, and becoming susceptible to infestations. – Aphids and whitefly seem to love spring as much as I do. So we and a handful of volunteers have started taking sunny opportunities to keep up with the grooming and leaf washing. (We’ll try to rotate all the garden volunteers in for a vitamin-D fix.) I have followed the sunbeams around my house to do the same thing… And today Gail and I started emptying benches to make room for more plants because we’ll start some seeds this week. If that isn’t a sure sign of spring, I don’t know what is.

Missing February bloom day is my excuse for posting some gratuitous sunny greenhouse flowers (clockwise from top left): Everyone thinks this camellia (unnamed) is a double hibiscus – it’s that tropical looking. Amaryllis ‘Zombie’ has been on a blooming rampage since December. The blue Marguerite (Felicia amelloides ‘Variegata’) is also unstoppable, and completely unbothered by insects. And even though the Spanish shawl (Centradenia floribunda) will quit blooming by summer it’s worth every inch of its bench space for the flowers now.

Is it partly springy in your garden yet? Are your houseplants going nuts? When will you start your first seeds?

It’s game time here at Blithewold. Even though we’ve been planting steadily since … March (!) the biggest push starts now that we’re well past frost and are desperate to get everything moved out of the greenhouse. What we call “planting week” usually spans a month or more and starts with marathon planting sessions in each garden that never take as long as we imagine it will. We were set back by rain earlier in the week but a powerful crew of volunteers adjusted their schedules to work today and along with the Florabundas yesterday they got us over the first of several humps.

A good 400 annuals and tender perennials including dahlias, salvias, ageratum, helichrysum, zinnias and agastache went in the North Garden yesterday; Dan planted at least 40 tomatoes; and almost 600 cutting garden annuals like tassel flower, amaranth, and lisianthus, and tender perennials and perennials such as lavender, butterfly weed and “Rhody Native” mountain mint went into the cutting garden, herb garden and pollinator bed today. Today’s planting session was completed just in time for a drenching downpour – a half an inch in what couldn’t have been much longer that a half an hour – that watered everything right in.

We try to make the job as easy as possible. Gail, Tricia and I place everything the day before so that no one has to wait while we make up our minds about where it all goes. And mostly the planting is easy – the soil is soft, fluffy cake mix wherever we took tulips out and wherever we evict forget-me-nots and teasel seedlings that have fulfilled their duties as space holders/weed barriers. But it’s still a big manicure-wrecking job that’s hard on the knees and the back and we couldn’t possibly have gotten even a fraction of it done in the time it took without our amazing volunteers.

The more we plant the more space we have under the arbor for hardening off plants as they come out of the greenhouse. I’ll spare you uninteresting shots of empty benches but to Gail and me they are almost as thrilling as seeing our plants go in the ground one by one by one.

Will you spend any part of this long weekend planting? I hope you have perfect weather for it and well-timed downpours – at night of course after the cookout – to help settle it all in. Happy planting!

Now that the heat of April is behind us, we’re taking full advantage of the coolness and rain of May. The weather is a little backwards but we’ll take what we can get when it comes to planting weather. With a few days of rain in the forecast we were really thrilled to have a dry day today and a good crew to start putting in some of our cool-season annuals. We planted tassel flower (Emilia javanica) in what promises to be a stunning combination with annual campion (Viscaria occulata ‘Blue Angel’). We also planted calendula, Salvia claryssa (a diminutive clary sage), some pretty tough looking bee’s friend (Phacelia tanacetifolia), golden feverfew (Tanacetum parthenium ‘Aureum’), Virginia stock (Malcolmia maritima), ornamental kale ‘Sunset’, and honeywort (Cerinthe major var. purpurescens ‘Kiwi Blue’) among other various and sundry things I’ve already forgotten.

In some places we had to elbow a few volunteers out of the way – volunteer reseeders, that is. You might this this sea of teasel seedlings is horrific but I like to think of them as a really excellent weed barrier. Nothing can penetrate that mat but it was quick work to delete a few to make room for a new little border of clary sage. And with any luck that will seed itself around too.

All of the garden’s newest tenants will be happy to have cloudy skies and plenty of rain (fingers crossed) to help them settle in. And now we have more room under the arbor for “hardening off” the next batch of plants to come out of the greenhouse. Tender perennials like Mexican anise hyssop (Agastache spp.), salvias, porterweed (Stachytarpheta spp.), and geraniums (Pelargonium) are next on the list — although all of those might prefer to wait to go out after the rain has stopped. That’s alright because it’s also time to move out some of our container specimen like the camellias, coprosmas, farfugium, and sweet olive (Osmanthus fragrans). The shift is on.

Have you started to plant cool-season annuals yet?

Word from our Visitor’s Center is that visitation drops off in May. I can’t imagine why. We might not be promoting daffodils anymore but there is still so much going on here. More and more every day. This week, after the Wednesday volunteer group (The Rockettes) planted the sweet peas along the cutting garden fence, a few of us went down to the Rock Garden. I think it’s safe to say that it has never looked sweeter or more filled in and colorful. And there really wasn’t much for us to do but marvel at its display. I’d hate for anyone to not see it just as it is right now. Pictures don’t do it justice but since the internet prevents me from grabbing you all by the hand to pull you down there, they’ll have to suffice. And if you possibly can carve some time out of your weekend (Sunday is forecast to be the better day) by all means, come see it for yourself. And take a walk by the dove tree on your way. And as you leave, say hey to all the tiny tadpoles keeping warm on the pond rocks.

The Rock Garden highlights for me are an Erigeron glaucus ‘Sea Breeze’ (second picture from the bottom) that has been steadily increasing since we planted it a couple of years ago but I don’t ever remember it blooming before. So pretty! And good old tiarella. Where has this plant (Tiarella ‘Elizabeth Oliver’) been all my life? Suddenly I’m totally in love. We planted these as plugs, also a couple of years ago, and they are really taking off now, each one as pretty as a picture.

What’s going on in your spring tapestry?