Spring is throwing a surprise party out in the garden. Confetti of celandine poppies signals the festivities are beginning.
First comes white: hellebores brightening the woods, creamy narcissus on the hill, leucojum in the courtyard. Andromeda and corylopsis festoon the garden in chains of delicate, tiny flowers. The garden lives.
Biting cold and brown leaves gone, the lawn greens. Florescence bubbles up. Leaves emerge on paths and trees, between the stones. The hamamelis offers spicy lemon fragrance. Threads and curls of new lime, moist like a baby’s hand, say,
Ruby buds bejewel trees. Blue and pink pop open. Uncovered, the pool’s warm water beacons. No waterfall yet. Anticipation builds excitement.
Trilliums’ ephemeral faces appear, a miracle to see again, as are coiled fern fronds and scrolled hosta leaves pushing through the earth.
More color rises around the house, startling after winter’s dullness. Yellow tulips, purple muscari, a paschal riot by the breakfast room. Daffodils gambol through the gardens, signals of color to come.
The gates are open. “Welcome home!” to the returning Hubbards. “Welcome home!” to the garden itself.
— Kathy Hudson