It’s been lovely waking up these past sunny mornings. For all my complaints last week about dark early mornings, I have just learned to sleep a little later. Problem solved. Still too cool for breakfast outside, but it feels like we are getting closer every day.
Although I have loved looking out at the structure of bare branches all winter, spring is my favorite season, delicate and voluptuous at the same time. Slowly, color is returning. The earliest green leaves, forsythia and ornamental cherry trees covered in yellow and the palest pink, an aura of colors to come surrounds the still-bare branches through the woods. Inside the house, my vases are full of daffodils in all colors, shapes, and sizes. A few fragrant hyacinths sit on the windowsill where I am writing. There are more outside in various stages of bloom. The abundance makes me weep.
I just went outside, drawn by the warm sun and the need to see what was happening. I can never resist, even with this column’s deadline looming. I will be late. ‘Thalia’ daffodils are blooming through a bed of myrtle, cream and blue, a pretty combination. Margaret Logue always marks bare spots to show where she needs to plant more daffodils in the fall. I note some spots in my own yard, and vow to place stakes as I think of it along my walks.
I write about my garden, making it sound like some perfectly designed and manicured estate. If that is your view of a garden, you will be terribly disappointed. Much maintenance has been ignored over the years, and my plan, if you can call it that, has devolved into more of a scramble of plantings that have grown like Topsy. I find plenty to marvel at, and relish the randomness of nature. To me, it is the most beautiful place on this earth.
All the garden centers in town are open now, and the Polly Hill Arboretum has materials for self-guided tours. So much to see and learn about. I hope my friend Linda Hearn is reading this, and we can make a date for a garden tour. Linda was a docent at the arboretum, so when we walk there together, I am treated to her expertise along with her good company.
Next week is school vacation week. The West Tisbury library will serve soup and bread lunches on the weekdays from April 19 to 22, 11:15 to 1:15. Lunches, prepared by Chef Deon, are free, and all are welcome.
My condolences to columnist colleague Gail Gardner, her family, and to the village of friends of her dad, Bob Gardner. Bob died at age 93 at his home in Edgartown. Gail wrote a beautiful tribute to her father as her column last week.
Although I am not a fan of C-SPAN and cameras in the House and Senate (I think it has encouraged members to exhibit the most outrageous speech and behavior as they perform for the cameras), I was thrilled watching the voice vote as Judge Ketanji Brown Jackson was confirmed as our newest Supreme Court justice. The hearings were a disgrace, as was one entire side of the Senate (except for one member, standing and clapping) walking out without acknowledging her achievement. Didn’t their mothers teach them basic manners?
When I picked Iyla up at school that afternoon, I told her about Judge Jackson’s confirmation, that there will be four women on this current Supreme Court, that Justice O’Connor became the first in 1981. She said, “You mean it was just men?” The wisdom of 5-½ year-old girls.