Tag Archives: birch

My Old Friends: From Hyacinth to Birch

Hyacinth

From Poetry of Flowers (A book Emily may have referenced), “Grief: According to mytholgists, this flower sprang from the blood of Hyacinthus, who was killed by a quoit, through the agency of Zephyr, who blew it fom its course as it passed from the hand of Apollo, and smote the unfortunate youth on the head.”

“I wish I could show you the hyacinths that embarrass us by their loveliness.” Emily’s letter to James D Clark.

Hyacinth

I am in love with him
To whom a hyacinth is dearer
Than I shall ever be dear.

On nights when the field-mice
Are abroad, he cannot sleep.
He hears their narrow teeth
At the bulbs of his hyacinths.

But the gnawing at my heart…
He does not hear.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

There are so many things to which you could compare a garden, not the least of which is friendship. Each year it comes back, sometimes a little worse for wear, but you have a history–an investment in one another.

The pictures I’m sharing today are from my garden–it’s some of my dear old friends emerging from winter in mid-April 2012. They’re bursting out and embracing the day! Some of them are thriving, some are fighting for their lives.

Royal Star Magnolia (struggling)

Rock Daphne

Leopard’s Bane

Hosta

Forsythia

Daffodils

“Elsa’s Rock” Daffodils to commemorate her death two years ago. What I realized during that time, a great epiphany for me, was that even when we want to hold onto our memories of lost loved ones–and Elsa was very dear to me having been raised from a puppy and sharing my trials and tribulations–our minds let them slip. I was horrified of that. Two weeks after her death, as I stood outside and tried to imagine her, it was hard. Then, a day passed without me thinking of her at all. This rock was placed there, over her burial spot, to remind me to think of her…and to give me a spot to sit while doing that under the Weeping Willow. I planted the daffodils because she died when they were in bloom. Every year they come up, they remind me of my loss–and my loss reminds me of my great gain–having her for thirteen years on this earth.

Daisies–Emily’s nickname was “Daisy”, and she refers to herself as such in the “Master Letters.”

Oh – did I offend it –
Didn’t it want me
to tell it the truth
Daisy – Daisy – offend it – who
bends her smaller life to
his, it’s meeker lower every day –
who only ask – a task –
something to do for
love of it – some little way
she cannot guess to make
that master glad –
A love so big it scares
her, rushing among her small
heart – pushing aside the
blood – and leaving her
faint and white in the
gusts’s arm –
Daisy – who never flinched
thro’ that awful parting –
but held her life so tight
he should not see the
wound – who would have
sheltered him in her
childish Heart – only it was’nt
big eno for a Guest so large –

(Letter 2 1861–Emily to “Master”–actual person is a mystery which stays unsolved.—Word choice changes were chosen by me. Example: bosom/Heart and other ommissions.)

Climbing Hydrangea

Chives

Birch & Pine

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Happy First Day of Spring Account

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

Emily Dickinson, 812

Today I’m doing an inventory of my trees–to see if they’ve made it through winter.

The Poplars have bark damage–maybe from the cats–maybe from the deer when they were rubbing off their antlers. Yet, they’re still budding. My question is, what do I do to help them now? Will they survive stress? Will they continue to grow at the rate of the others?

poplar-bark-damage
The buds of the same Poplar.
poplar-with-bark-damage-3

My Flowering Plum, in front of the house, also has bark damage. This one’s survival is so important. I chose it from the others because I liked its shape–the way it spread out and would give the window area privacy.

fp-bark-damage-front-of-house
Its buds.
fp-in-front-of-house-bark-damage

The FPs along the driveway are alive. I noticed that there is one growing much slower than the rest. Are its roots hitting rocks? It also has bark damage from over a year ago.

stunted-fp-first-day-of-spring-bark-damage
The runt.
stunted-fp

Here is one we planted last Fall. It was pretty mature to begin with and had a huge heavy root ball. We broke it during transplant, but it, too has survived the winter.

fp-broken-root-ball-first-day-of-spring-09

The Weeping willows have survived.

And this one, the little Willow–the tiny one we planted 18 months ago which barely grew–and then we transplanted last Fall to make room for the new ones–it appears to be alive as well. We thought it was dead last Fall. Could it really have survived?!? Look at the profusion of buds. Wow!

willow-we-took-for-dead-2

willow-we-took-for-dead

The new Willows–much larger–but only planted last Fall.

weeping-willow-2

Here are three more in back–a Birch and two pines. They are alive. I’m so happy!! I love Birch trees. I hope to put in more this year.

birch-2

birch-1

This is not a tree, but they are coming alive–Day Lilies.

day-lilies

My quest this week–find and buy 3 Forsynthia and 1 Magnolia.

Have you done an accounting of your garden? Are your trees coming alive today–this first day of Spring?