March Gladness

Dear Maria,

Greater number of daylight hours, longer stretches outdoors, and a bit of a slowdown letter-writing-wise. All good, not to worry.

Of course, this time of year a lot of our friends and colleagues are—well, yearning for their spring break. Hungering? Starving, even. Somehow I still feel its tug, even after just about two years out. Nearly gravitational, internally.

This weekend marks the Azalea Festival where thousands and thousands of visitors will invade. I can hear my mother’s eyes rolling. Thousands, will visit. Y’all come back, just not all at once. As always, there has been talk about whether the town will be in spectacular bloom or is this the season of an erratic rollout of redbuds and dogwoods, wisteria and azaleas, pear and cherry trees.

I daily have my eye on all that I have planted, front and back. This season—so far, at least—my little slice of the planted world is tracking as expected. Tea olives first, followed by the young plum trees. Next the Cleveland pear and the loropetalum. Then the Drake elm in that spring shade of green that at times seems like it can’t be real.

The acoustic lily—now a threesome after the bulb crumbled in my hand two years ago—is breaking ground. Tiny buds are forming on the knockouts, and soon the Japanese maple will leaf—one of my favorites.

The laggard is the Chinese elm, the one I rescued from Lowe’s four years ago. Easily more than a week behind the Drake, just now the first bit of leaf emerging. That I pruned it significantly in February caused me some anxiety: I may have killed the rescue elm.

But, leaf is coming. It lives. And I will shake my head when I think back to my worry when it is fully greened out and growing vigorously. Another reminder that Mother Nature is the pacing guide.

After all, Mother Nature has all the time in the world. Need to remember that simple truth.

And as sure as spring comes, summer will follow.

Lackadaisical, yes, but always holding you and yours in my heart,

srk

P.S. Out back with Max a few minutes ago, and the crape myrtle is showing the first leafy signs of life. All good, still.