Seeing Red

Beyond the window is an ocean of pillowy white that goes on forever and ever, grey skies and scudding clouds. Weary of winter, ice and snow, I find myself longing to have morning tea on the deck, but I know that will not happen for a few months. There will probably not be any flowers or greenery in the garden until the end of April, and a little color right about now would be grand. It would be vastly appreciated too.

While pottering about in a local market recently, a tin bucket of tulips caught my eye, and I scooped up a bunch, carrying them home in my arthritic paws as tenderly as if they were fledgling birds. The purples, oranges and yellows are fine stuff, but the scarlets are nothing short of amazing - attention grabbers of the first order.

Arranged in an old glass vase (a flea market find last summer), the glossy blooms and bright green leaves don't just light up the day - they light up just about everything else too, and that includes me. A single bloom would be enough, but a whole bouquet is almost indecently sumptuous. What a way to celebrate the month of February!

I have resolved to keep a cauldron, a vase, a beaker or a tankard of something bright and flowery near the southern window from now until spring arrives. Ditto the other three seasons of the year. It seems to me that this is not just about a vase of tulips or a single rose, but about all the boundless gardens of the Old Wild Mother (Earth) coming into riotous, intoxicating bloom. Is this a hallelujah moment or what?

Royal Child in the Garden

One would have to go a long way to top the brilliant colors of the palette on display this morning. Red, purple, orange and gold go perfectly together at any time of the year, but especially in shaggy, flowering July.

When a newborn Monarch alighted on the crown of a purple coneflower a few days ago, it was cause for celebration, for singing, cavorting in the greenery and general silliness. Come to think of it, the "Susies" in the background are sometimes called coneflowers too (although they are two distinct species).

How on earth can one describe something so vibrant, so breathtakingly perfect? Butterfly, blooms and summer garden say it all, and no words are needed from this old hen. Such images will linger in memory long after northern days grow very short indeed, and the south corner of the garden is buried in snow.