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0 commentsSpring is bellowing out now in California, full-throated spring, and I can barely catch my breath amid her explosive arias and high-pitched scales that run from January through the end of April. Time in the garden is told by linked events, and I mark the rapid ascent of spring by the unfurling of one of my favorite harbinger flowers, the wild iris of the Northwest Coast. With a mixture of panic and delight I notice the first iris blade, a slim white stiletto hidden within folds of wind-burned foliage. The winter pruning of elephant heart plums or the Gallica roses is still unfinished, and already spring irises are beginning to unsheathe! More »
0 commentsA year ago I could not see across the thicket of the late spring garden, so dense was the tangle. Arched canes of heavily perfumed Ispahan roses looped over mounded beds of lime butter lettuce. The lettuce coiled in soft circles around plump cranberry beans just beginning to twine their way up stalks of Tarahumara sunflowers. In the heart of this May jungle I remembered a line from the poet and meditation practitioner Gretel Ehrlich: “Leaves are the verbs that conjugate the seasons,” she observed. More »