The Snow is Sticking

It happens every year, yet each year it comes as a surprise: the first significant snowfall in which the snow sticks. Today was that day. A very wet, heavy snow that covered sidewalks and made surfaces slick. Ugh!

The first flakes on the beech

Even though there is absolutely no reason to be caught off guard by this annual event, I often feel caught off guard. That feeling inspired a short poem.

The Snow is Sticking

the snow is sticking
and I am kicking
myself
not yet done 
tucking in the garden

flakes catch and linger
on frozen gloved fingers
yours truly
not yet prepared
for winter's glacial glare

Snow on Bloodgood Japanese Maple

Here's hoping for a mercifully mild and brief winter. Nothing to do in the meantime but write some garden poems and count down to spring.

Happy Gardening! 

Autumn in My Dustpan

This time of year in the garden always amounts to a lot of leaf cleanup. Weeks and weeks (and more weeks) of leaf cleanup. 

A carpet of colourful fallen leaves

I have too many leaves. The garden is surrounded by mature trees that dump their loads of foliage each fall. The cover is so thick that it has the potential to smother everything underneath. So I do my best to manage the leaves. I mulch as many as I can, and I leave the shredded remnants to do their work as a warm, nourishing, and protective winter blanket for the garden. The rest, I rake and sweep into bags that will be taken away to be turned into compost.

Fallen leaves have been a topic of discussion among the gardeners I follow on twitter. I saw a post that returned to me as I was doing my own leaf clean up. It was a picture of a dustpan filled with fallen leaves. It was accompanied by the caption "Autumn in a dustpan." I did a quick search to see if anyone had ever written a poem inspired by those words because they struck me as rather poetic. I didn't find any poems, but I did find dozens of high-resolution stock photos to match the words (who knew that the world needed so many dustpan photos? Lol!) This, in turn, inspired my own picture (see below), and a new poem in the form of a pantoum.

Autumn in my Dustpan   

Autumn in my dustpan
The season not yet done
Fallen golds and crimsons
Echo a blazing sun

A garden season nearly done
Fades into dimmer days
Echoes of a blazing sun
Obscured by skies of grey

Faded into dimmer days
Life hindered by the dark
Beneath fall’s slow decay
A soul’s diminished spark

Life hindered by the dark
Leaves rain upon the land
Sweep up fall’s slow decay
Gather autumn in my dust pan

Autumn in my dustpan

Here's to the annual fall cleanup.  I hope yours is going well.

Happy Gardening.

Bulbs in a Paper Bag

I have been slowly winding down the garden for the season. There hasn't been a frost yet, but it won't be long. One of my jobs this week was cutting back the Gladiolus murielae.

Gladiolus murielae

I have admired these flowers in other people's gardens. When I spotted some corms at the garden centre this spring, I decided to try my luck. It was a good choice. The flowers were fantastic with their white drooping heads held on tall, sturdy stalks about three feet tall. I don't think these tender bulbs would survive the harsh winter here, so I set about digging them up, cutting back the foliage, and putting the corms into storage.

Gladiolus murielae remind me of shorebirds.
Don't ask me why, they just do.

The process of collecting the bulbs and placing them into paper bags in the hope that they will bloom again reminded me of the cycles of the garden and the hopeful outlook of the gardener. This is the poem that came to mind.

Paper Bag Potential

Shake off the dirt

Give the roots a trim

Put the bulbs in a paper bag

Place in a box

Find a dark shelf

Persist through winter's icy lag

Open the bag

Inhale summer's scent

Witness flowers patiently wait

See the green sprouts

Dream of what is to come

Prepare to plant and celebrate

Bulbs in a paper bag

Here's to the potential of all the bulbs, corms, and seeds being collected and prepared for winter storage right now.

Happy Gardening!

The Impossibility of the Redbud Tree

There are so many flowering trees to enjoy during May. The cherry blossoms usually steal the show; the magnolias always make an excellent impression; and, the crabapples have a certain wow factor. For me, though, the Eastern Redbud is the star of the season. 

Eastern Redbud

Before the leaves appear, the Eastern Redbud will put on a spectacular display of bright pink blooms. When the small pea-like flowers fall to the ground, they are just as pretty, painting the garden beds and walkways magenta. I appreciate the redbud for its abundance of flowers. It is also not nearly so common in city settings as the cherry blossoms and magnolias, so a sighting seems extra special. As much as I love it, the tree presents me with a small dilemma.

Pink, pink, and more pink flowers

I love to take photographs of my garden. No matter how hard I try, however, I am never satisfied with my pictures of the redbud. There are good macro photos to be had of the blooms, no doubt, but capturing the character and spirit of the tree as a whole has been somewhat elusive for me. The difficulty in taking a satisfying photo prompted this poem.
  
The Impossibility of the Redbud Tree

The impossibility of the redbud tree

is found in the absence of photos

Four thousand six hundred nineteen

pictures on my phone

Not one among them capably captures

the magenta fireworks

The camera always poised to snap

Once

Twice

Three times

A thousand

Prolific pink on the screen

unattainable lacking incomplete

followed by a disappointed delete

Each erasure evidence of

the impossibility of the redbud tree

Rosy blooms on bare branches

soon crowded with heart-shaped leaves

best enjoyed unfettered

free of mobile technology

there not for the lens

but for my soul to sense

and my eyes to perceive

Another view of the redbud

Redbuds are among the most beautiful of spring flowering trees. Don't let my less-than-satisfactory pictures suggest otherwise.

Happy Gardening!

Cherry Blossoms: Just for Me

And just like that, cherry blossom season is over. This year, the Sakura in Toronto's High Park put on a stunning, if all too brief, display.

Luminescent cherry blossoms in High Park

Equally as stunning, the size of the crowds. I suppose the carnival-like atmosphere is understandable. The last two years of the pandemic have forced us all into a more isolated existence, so it really isn't a surprise that the chance to gather outdoors safely would be so welcomed.

Crowds gathered among the Sakura

On the lawn, and on the path.
Winter-weary, pandemic-fatigued
humans everywhere!

The cherry blossom experience prompted me to think back on previous spring viewings of these delicate flowers. While I'm certain there were other people around on these occasions, seeing the cherry blossoms always felt like a very personal and solitary event. The crowds changed that perception this year, and the result is this poem.

Cherry Blossoms: Just for Me

When did everyone discover

the cherry blossoms?

They used to be just for me

Petals of white like floating clouds

a shimmer of pink on the breeze

Beauty as told in fairly tales

transient as fast-fading dreams

The blossoms were my secret 

held close and rarely shared

lavish for a week or two

and then no longer there

The blossoms were mine alone

although there for all to see

The busy cosmos a distraction 

from the allure of a blooming tree

Then the world stopped.

Everyone retreated 

into their heads and into their homes

Trapped by walls and suddenly idle

an ache growing in restless bones

Release arrived two years on

in the rush of restive crowds

free among the Sakura trees

and cherry blossom shrouds 

Cherry blossoms on blue sky

It's nice to see people discover the beauty of nature, but I will selfishly admit that I wouldn't mind if the crowds went away. In a fast-growing city, that's unlikely. So, in the future, I will change my methods. A 4am wake-up for a 5am trip to the park may be what is required to recapture quiet moments among the Sakura.

Beautiful blossoms

Branches laden with flowers

Too many blossoms to count

A cherry blossom cloud

Until the cherry blossoms can be enjoyed again, pictures will have to do.

Happy Gardening!