It’s quite possible that the daffodils have never been as beautiful as they’ve been this week. The early daffs are lingering while the late ones open (there are still more to come) and the entire property seems lit from below. And the timing, coinciding with April vacation week, couldn’t have been better. So many people of all ages — hundreds each day — have been able to take the time to enjoy the property, bringing picnics, playing games, lingering on benches, and taking advantage of photo opportunities under the moongate and on the new Norway maple throne next to the bamboo grove. So fun — and totally gratifying for us to see. Although kids will go back to school on Monday, the show here goes on. Tulips should start opening in earnest this weekend and should come into peak themselves just as the daffodils begin to step aside.

The beautiful weather this week, gently warm and sunny, also made our hard work in the gardens hardly feel like work at all. We continued to edit, starting again in the Idea Garden. Some plants like mint family “thugs” (I hesitate to call them that because I love them, but they do spread outwards in a way that earns them a certain reputation) need to be re-corralled every year if we are to enjoy them to their fullest. And when we keep up with them annually, the edits are easy to make. (I know whereof I speak. In my garden procrastination has gotten the best of me — and them.)

Beebalm (in this case, Monarda didyma ‘Jacob Cline’) forms a dense mat, only reaching a few fingers outwards from that, and every year we simply smallerize the mat by digging out the outer edges. Mint (in this case spearmint, Mentha spicata ‘Kentucky Colonel’) sends rhizomes all-whicha-ways that need to be pulled out from amongst neighbors. (It’s easily done because the roots are close to the surface — and it smells delicious.) Mint also makes a dense central mat and I find it easiest to dig that all out and replace only a little of the best bits. Because most gardeners I know keep it in containers instead, we decided to showcase that method too, this year. We are still playing musical perennials, moving shrubs from one bed to another, giant lilies (Lilium ‘Gerrit Zalm’) that were out of scale in the trough garden went to the Rose Garden where they’ll wow with the roses; and we redistributed more oxeye daisies (Leucanthemum vulgare) from the cutting garden to the North Garden. And we have been fine tuning too, weeding out shocking patches of chickweed, onion grass, deadnettle, and rogue clumps of lawn. (More on our Rose Garden corner weed eradication program later — big decisions were made by committee just yesterday.)

And I have been very remiss in not mentioning our new intern, Betsy who has been working with us now a couple of days a week for the last 3 at least. My only excuse is that she fit right in and it feels like she has been at Blithewold for years already. Betsy also works at Schartner Farms in Exeter, RI and interned at Arnold Arboretum, so I think she’ll have a thing or two to teach us (me) too.

Did you spend April vacation in the garden too? Working or playing — or both?

Whether or not you got your taxes in on time, spring is sending out huge returns right this minute. As a gardener I have paid close enough attention to spring that I really shouldn’t ever be surprised by it but yet again, I’m feeling amazed at how quickly it’s happening. Tree buds that were still tightly closed (if swollen) last week when I checked them must have opened over the weekend. Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) that was tucked under the leaves in the bosquet last week is poking up today like a forest of tiny umbrellas. Ferns that were still tightly knobbed are beginning to lengthen into fiddleheads. Grape hyacinth are out in force; trout lily are displaying their peeled banana blooms; and a close-up look at a red-tinted horizon reveals the most delicate garnet flowers on the red maples (Acer rubrum).

And the daffodils. I knew it was coming (and we predicted that this would be the week) but they’re totally peaking now. I am tempted to say that it doesn’t get any better than this but of course it does. By the day.

So if you’re on vacation with your kids this week, I sure hope you return to Blithewold for Daffodil Days or at least get outside to reap spring’s awesome reward. (Given the weather forecast for the next few days — no hot weather in sight yet — it looks like the daffs will be in peak right through and into next week. And by then there should be a few more tulips too!)

Is spring at its peak in your garden too? For a look at spring’s return all over the country and the world, head over to May Dreams Gardens for April Garden Bloggers Bloom Day.

These last two days have been so spectacular — soft, sunny, and warm — that I can’t stand the thought of anyone being stuck indoors. I know I’m lucky (in a previous life I worked in a windowless office) and I wish you all could be out here with us. (If it’s any consolation, I’m inside now to work on this. But the door next to my desk is wide open and the greenhouse is behind me. I’m totally lucky.)

I had to include the above daffodil pictures in this post — they’re on their way towards peak — but before they blare every trumpet I feel justified in focusing on the spring tinies. Ephemerals like the trout lily (Erythronium americanum) that has speckled the Bosquet and every garden and is just beginning to bloom; tiny primroses (Primula veris vulgaris), and European ginger (Asarum europaeum) blooming almost invisibly in the Rock Garden; weird octopus’ garden foliage and buds of Muscari armeniacum ‘Valerie Finnis’; and the innocent-looking flowers and newly emerged foliage of butterbur (Petasites japonicus). There’s no indication that in 2 or 3 weeks time the butterbur’s leaves will be as big as tea tables…

(Click on any picture for a showier show and/or mouse over for captions.)

Speaking of innocent-looking, we started taking out, dividing, and moving around perennials that have grown close together in the Idea Garden. Everything is still so tiny that it’s hard to believe they’ll ever be shoulder height (some of them) and a lot of them look exactly alike (to me) at this stage. It was like a memory test to remember what’s what. And in fact it was hard enough for me to distinguish between the mountain mint (Pycnanthemum verticillatum) — which we want to replace with a showier P. muticum — and the Monarda fistulosa ‘Claire Grace’, planted side by side that I had to resort to the sniff test. Mountain mint definitely smells mintier… And we had to do some fancy footwork to avoid stepping on all of the perennials still so tucked in that we can barely even see them. But this is the perfect time to start to play musical perennials. We can even get away with stashing The Unplanted in bags in the shade for a week or two (I don’t mind making daylilies and rudbeckia wait even longer) until we figure out where they’ll live next.

Please tell me you were able to get into your garden to dig into (or just enjoy) spring’s tinies. (I’ll feel better if you have.)

Daffodil Days start tomorrow and I’m thrilled to report that some daffodils (and a few other spring ephemerals) have arrived early for the festivities. And thousands more are on their way… Every hour from now on that the sun shines a few more will open to brighten the woods and paths. Gail and I still predict that their peak will be closer to next weekend than this but in the meantime, red-winged blackbirds are calling, there’s a blue haze of Siberian squill and periwinkle in the Bosquet, skunk cabbage are out down by the water garden, and Spring is really starting to look spring-like all over the property. (You know what I mean.)

This week we and our volunteers worked more to tidy up in the Display Garden (which from here on in I will refer to as the Idea Garden because this is where we try new plants, combinations, philosophies and hope that visitors will be inspired to take our best ideas home). We spent the coldest, windiest day in the sunny greenhouse potting on last fall’s cuttings, transplanting seedlings, and starting more seeds. (Tomatoes, basil, amaranth and celosia mean summer is coming!) And yesterday we pruned the Rose Garden roses (hard – now’s the time) and almost finished preparing the climbers for their outrageous June show. (Our hands look like we caught the pox or tangled with tigers.) So we’re officially ready for the season to keep going the way it’s going. Slow and steady. Our cat-scratched fingers are crossed that we won’t see snow again until maybe December… and we’re perfectly willing to wait until June for any 80° days.

What’s your latest spring update? Please send along a link if you’ve written about it and/or taken pictures.

I hate to miss anything. Especially spring. And some years it feels like it just flies by before I can catch it. I think that’s why I almost prefer early spring to any other season of the year. It’s all about potential. There’s still a chance I’ll catch the season as it comes and enjoy it to its very fullest.

Everyone keeps asking, “When are the daffodils going to bloom?” Soon enough is what I want to say (their swan necks are bent into position). But isn’t it lovely that they’re taking their time? (I think their actually on time!) I find it much easier to appreciate (and find) the tiniest and prettiest now than when the whole trumpet section starts blaring (not that I’m not blown away by that). And it’s easier to notice the other beauties like the multicolored foliage emerging on the false spiraea (Sorbaria sorbifolia ‘Sem’), butterbur (Petasites japonicus) in full bloom, buds swelling on the Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas), the burgundy leaves spiking native honeysuckle vines, and dawn viburnum (Viburnum x bodnantense ‘Dawn’) still blooming away.

One of our volunteers this morning also pointed out the stark beauty of our gardens, freshly tidied, almost empty looking but chock full of potential. She’s totally right – they’re gorgeous, though it’s harder to tell from a photo. If you can squint though you can almost see a long glorious and colorful season ahead…

Chilly weather this week should help to hold this thought. But as soon as we get another warm run of days like we had last weekend everything will begin to rush madly further into spring. If you’re trying to plan a trip around the daffodils’ peak, I would say come sometime around mid-April. But if you’re like me and hate to miss anything, including the gorgeousness of not-quite-there-yet, come now. And then come often.