June Comes Early

It's only late May and everyone among our roses is pushing, stretching and opening buds as if there is no June ahead, ignoring the punishing winds and sand storms that keep us cowardly humans indoors. 

Rare morning peace in the garden

It's almost a cruel joke that the loveliest time of year is rushing past so quickly on wings of dirt, sand and dust, making a quiet garden respite nearly impossible. I managed to snap a few early morning shots before today's predicted biggest wind storm yet takes over our lives for the next 36 hours. 

Frederic Mistral, aka The Children's Rose

Frederic Mistral's deeply-fragrant blooms take me back to elusive and comforting childhood vignettes featuring great aunts and rose-scented soaps and oils.

Teasing Georgia rose

Teasing Georgia glows in the morning light.

Prairie Star rose

Prairie Star is delightfully perky and peachy, obviously relishing the sprinkler's bounty.

Royal Wedding rose

Royal Wedding's first flush delights me no end.

Seminole Wind rose, aka Rosarium Uetersen 

Seminole Wind, next to a favorite morning-coffee chair, puts on his first real show since joining our garden last year.

Quietness rose

Quietness never disappoints us, her delicate-looking blossoms taking a whipping in a wind that began rousing with the sun. 

Quietness rose bush and company

Quietness rose's first flush of 2012

Abraham Darby rose bush

Abraham Darby wants to ball up, but manages a brave show none-the-less.

Abraham Darby rose

The garden by late afternoon

As expected, the day deteriorated into a dirty, dusty mess. My poor roses!


You may click to enlarge the above photos.

The Summer Cometh

Summer rapidly approaches; the garden sings with delight.

I enjoy watching a sweet hummer through my kitchen window.

Everything lovely and alive stretches toward the sun and sky.

Helianthemum and Salvia 'Purple Rain' glow in the morning light.

The Madam Julia Correvon clematis shows off her rich, wine-red blossoms in an extravagant burst of generosity; I adore her.

Quietness, her delicate pink, fragile-looking blossoms deceptively resilient, glows in the extraordinarily hot weather. 

Shrugging off yesterday's dusty violence, Quietness carries on.

Summer verdure restores its place in the serene morning after.

Summer, glorious summer, lies ahead.

A Sun-Kissed Morning Begins a Beautiful Day

My young white trio: two Bradford pear trees and a Black Tartarian cherry tree glisten in the morning light and chill.

Mornings in my garden this week were bright and cold, with a kiss of color and sunlight brushing the flowering trees.

The cherry tree is brilliant against a clear, bright sky.

Afternoons breeze through, sometimes with dust; at other times the wind feels colder than the sunlight would suggest.

The warm spring allowed my young Burkwood viburnum to bloom. The fragrance is divine and I adore seeing the pink buds opening to pure white, simple blossoms.

I managed to get my little rosebushes from Heirloom Roses planted. My dear friend Sarah Z. treated me to three roses that I was anxious to have. 

My three new babies patiently await.

My previous experiment with Ebb Tide ended prematurely; I believe I planted it too early in the season. I am hoping that this time the roots will have a chance to grow and become well secured in their new home before the season is out. 

Ebb Tide has a roomy new home in front of a rather winter-ravaged Ambridge Rose and next to Cl. America.

I love Moonlight Scentsation so much that I chose another to keep it company.

Moonlight Scentsation poses before settling into a new home.

I ordered Jean Kenneally -- I am fascinated by the idea of growing the highest rated rose ever -- but they sent Cl. Jeanne Lajoie by mistake. I already have several Jeanne Lajoie; charming as she is, I don't need another. I did manage to find a spot for her, and the good, service-oriented folks at Heirloom Roses are graciously sending my Jean Kenneally along soon. 

Fragrant crabapple blossoms scent the afternoon.

Evening quietly closes another  happy spring day in the garden.

Hyacinth to Feed The Soul

"If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,

And of thy slender stores 

two loaves alone to thee are left,

Sell one, and with the dole

Buy hyacinth to feed thy soul"

"Hyacinth to Feed Thy Soul" 

By

13th century Persian poet 

Moslih Eddin Saadi

From his book "Gulistan"

("The Rose Garden")

Hyacinth certainly do feed my soul. They are the first herald of spring and warmth in my garden.

I love their sweet fragrance. They grow in so many fresh colors.

I can never have enough hyacinth, short-lived though they are, and I can never buy as many as I want, however drastically I deplete my "slender stores" to acquire them.

Hyacinth in the herb garden brighten my way to the back door.

                                                             

Thanks to
   Words From the Heart

for the poem

Worst Fears Realized ... A Hefty Dose of Snow and Ice in March

Frosted hyacinth are a normal sight after a mild winter, early spring and a late-winter storm.

This storm is to be the biggest of the 2011-2012 winter season. The high spots in the state will receive up to a couple of feet of snow; our more northern, but lower-elevation, spot will certainly get its share of wind and weather.

Yesterday dawned brilliantly with clear skies, warmish temperatures and calm air.  

But our complacency was short-lived. By mid-morning yesterday, wind-blown dust and dirt found every crevice and fold in our clothes, hair and skin. This morning, venturing out was for the sturdy souls among us. Dirt and dust continued to obscure the horizon, with colder temperatures and a spattering of rain on the windshield.

Do the little apricot blossoms stand a chance?

This is why apricots seldom produce fruits in our area. The fragile, hopeful blossoms are all too often slapped asunder by cruel, late-winter storms.

The grape hyacinth don't mind at all, however, and will be springing back to life after shaking off this small irritation. Of course, their reproductive cycle does not include producing edible fruits.

The regular hyacinth, too, will be just fine.

The snow level in Northern Arizona will drop to elevations of 3,000 feet tonight; already elevations of 7,000 feet have a couple of feet of snow. Northern Arizona University canceled classes for tomorrow, and we here in the extreme north-eastern corner of the state, at a mile high in elevation, will hunker down and continue to wait for spring.

The garden bench offers little invitation today.

Fresh green iris and grape hyacinth foliage offer a tantalizing suggestion of hope through an otherwise completely dreary front window view.