How I envy you all. All we have is wind, cold and the threat of 4 inches of
snow tomorrow. Nothing is greening up yet and I sure wish it would hurry.
I sent your note off to friends in Alaska, I know they will get a lift from
it too.

--
"Anybody can have more birthdays, but it takes balls to get old!"

BetsyB

"madgardener" wrote in message
...
Well, good day to you there hanging around the hedges and near the waste
bins, I see you poking the soil and testing the ground in anticipation of
plantings (unless some of you, and you know who YOU are.....have already
gotten their spinach, radishes and snow peas in the cold ground). I've
been having Spring anxieties with these teasing warm days, then back to
cold, then back to a few teasings.....that's Tennessee weather for ya! So
I did a happy dance with the slight moisture we received and then watched
as March blew in like a Lioness, gale force winds tearing at things,
making all my wind chimes tinkle and shriek with a huge clanging and
banging. It was a cacophony.

Mornings, the male birds were warbling their throats and lungs out, trying
to impress females with the possibilities of eggs, nest makings and
protection (and of course, food gathering for the bottomless pits of those
open mouths). I'd put a new bird feeder out in the front fairy gardens
just outside of the bedroom window, just so's I could have a "bird's eye
view (sorry about that)from the bedroom window in the mornings and any
other time I was in the bedroom. This was closer and the visibilities
were greater being less than six feet away, as opposed to the slight
further distances on the side yard from the visibility of the kitchen door
or living room window. One morning, I counted NINE different kinds of
flying dinosaurs on, under, and perched beside the new feeder. NINE??
Yep! Towhee's, black caps, golden finches, blush rose finches, three
kinds of woodpeckers, Cardinals, wrens, chickadee's, Mockingbirds (who ran
the woodpeckers off at every given chance, I had no idea they adored the
suet so much!)and a tentative visit by a Mountain blue bird!

I took to opening the bedroom window a crack to let in the sounds more
than the cold winds drifting across the warm bed that was piled up with me
and three dogs and three of the four felines.

Now, it's blustering into the first part of March, the Cornelian cherry
tree is in it's final attempts (after two previous ones, brought about by
premature Spring temperatures that totally fooled the little buds)at show.
The bees are delirious with the whole display. Picture a 16-17 foot tree
in full regalia of teensy fairy bouquets of sulphur yellow, and every now
and then, the scarlet red plumage of a proud and puffy male Cardinal.
Awesome......it fills the heart.

I had to run some errands Saturday, it was the 3rd, and sunny. The gales
were threatening to rip out my hair by the roots. My hat was blown off no
less than four times, lifting it not only off me little coconut head, but
tearing it from the grounding braid I've threaded through the back
elastic. Everywhere I was seeing green poking up through the tans and
browns of winter's last gasping. The too earlies were being forceful. I
saw henbit by the acres. Every branch, were I to have slowed down long
enough was not only displaying buds, but most of those buds were unfurling
little leaves in tight textures.

Everywhere I saw Forsythia's popping bright yellow along barren stems in
yards and even along the sides of the interstate where they'd planted some
for Spring enjoyment. And in some yards, I saw some wary old Quince's
with hot pink flowers along thorned stems. I knew that at home, the Vinca
major was laughing at me, deep green leaves, sinuous, yards long vines
threading through the fallen leaves and debris to emerge at opposite ends
of raised beds.

Everywhere I saw punctuations of not only emerging narcissus leaves, but
puddles of exclamation points of daffs, with bright, scrubbed yellows
everywhere my eyes were grabbed with their heart lifting images as I
drove.

Once I'd run the errands for himself and the supplies he needed for his
next week out, I topped the hill and road that leads up the dead end of my
own Fairy Holler. There is quite the view there. The ridge flattens out,
and stretched out, southwards is the rolling and creased hills and beyond
the road a mile away, clumps and swaths of trees, dots and dashes of
houses that are building up in little subdivisions where farms used to be.
To the far eastern and southern area, you can see the interstate barely,
and back true Southwards, English Mountain with the slash of red earth at
the base where the waters of Douglas Lake have dropped during Winter's
ministrations of the dam above a few miles westwards.

The textures of the sides of the mountains are fuzzy, and you can
determine that a lot of the purplish reddish cast are the cedars that
number the thousands, and the darker shades are the white pines and Jack
pines mingling with the barren limbs of the assorted hardwoods and soft
woods and bushes and what not. Next to me, as I come to this flat part of
the road, openings and woods. The darker greens are privet. Gone wild
and everywhere now, it's a thuggish weed.

As I approached my favorite drop off before rounding the curve to shoot up
the dead end road, I heard, through the closed window,
PEEPERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I slowed to a stop, looked behind me (no
traffic coming at all, despite that it was a Saturday) and then put the
van into reverse and proceeded to back to the place where I knew I'd heard
the sounds of high pitched clicking. I back down my own driveway quite a
ways, so I'm good at this, but I watch for the approaching possible
vehicle as this road is one of the routes to town from the few houses and
the hidden subdivision to the northeast. No cars at all, I make it to
the perfect spot, pull to the rare flattened shoulder of the road (usually
there's nothing but a deep ditch, or drop off and pasture or worse) and
lower the window on the passenger side. The sound intensifies and I am
excited.

I put the car into park, make sure I have my keys, as I have the three
muttlies with me, OoDee is on his chain leash (he's an escape artist, I
hook him immediately upon his jumping into the van to go on another
adventure after the last escape that caused me unnecessary worries and
angst, Sugar or OoDee tend to lock me out of my own vehicle now, (Rose
used to do this, so I tend to say that "Rose lives" when they exhibit
traits of her, and OoDee never had the pleasure to meet the grand
Dame....nor Smeagol, come to think of it. I jumped out of the van and
carefully and quietly move towards the four strand barbwire and look into
the sunken area that used to be a cow pond. The noise is almost
deafening. I focus and see little holes pockmarking the whole red clay
embankment of the sunken "pond". Wow..........

I got so excited, I decided to call my friend, James over in the UK who
used to live in North Carolina to share a moment with him audibly. When
he answered, I told him "quick call, guess what you're about to hear??" he
never knows, so I told him that despite the gale force winds, I HOPED that
he'd hear something else, and I moved once again to the barbwire, then
reached over it, and held the phone closer to the sunken area. The winds
were kind, and died down for a fraction of a second......I then put the
phone back to my face and asked "what did you hear?" and he immediately
said "a whole bunch of clicking.....what was that??" so I told him hang
on a moment, and put the phone closer, and sure enough, the sound got to
swelling and the winds slowed down for another incredible moment, and as
my phone is quite loud I heard his voice saying "I hear THAT! WHAT IS
THAT??" And laughing, I exuberantly said "it's the
PEEPERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And he was amazed....."Peepers at the
first part of MARCH???? WOW, that IS incredible!" and I agreed, told him
the dollars were pouring out of the cell phone and hated to hang up but I
had to let him go, but at least I had shared the first sounds of the first
peepers with him. He said he'd e-mail me and respond to the audio I'd
shared with him and I was gone.

I stood in the gusting winds that once again pushed against me. The
little frogs were ecstatic with the warming sunshine upon their sleeping
bed, and I vowed to return on a less windy day and see about carefully
climbing over the barbwire and seeing if I could see them up close to
capture a picture maybe. I have fishing patience, and can sit quietly
until they forget about me if I startle them. I hope they're just too
happy to care.......

Once home, the bug had bitten me. I let the menfolk unload the van,
turned the dawgs loose at Miz Mary's house to run and tear around her
house and play their grappling games and do a tinkle or five (two of them
are boyz) and then I was off to look at my own affairs with Fairy Holler.

My own Forsythia was popping little yellow lampshades along stems. One
bush remains. It needs pruning even now. I'll do that later on. I notice
the Lenii magnolia has fat, fuzzy buds and has grown another two foot in
height. Beneath and to the eastern side of him, the Jane is stretching her
arms to entwine with his and has her own fuzzy buds of a different pink
magnolia flower.

Buds of emerging leaves dot everything. The Autumn Jazz Viburnum is
covered. In my excitement, I hurry back and see little tight balls all
along the Chinese almond out front of the western ended front fairy bed.
"TOO SOON!!!" I wailed to no one but myself and the fairies and maybe the
stray feline who was lurking about in hopes of capturing a distracted
flying dinosaur.

Quick, hurry over to the Vitex bed and sure enough, at her feet, to the
northern edge, a large and very happy dark plum Hellebore just LOADED with
skirts. No signs underneath her leaves and many, many flowers of the
crocus I had tucked underneath. They might have already bloomed.... The
new darker Hellebore looks tired. It had opened on my birthday back in
early January and I was wowed. I can't wait for it to bulk up and blow me
away. Now if only I could find Ivory Prince.....

Off me knees, I scuttle to the Loripedilum and no signs of dark magenta
threads. That reminds me, and I head back north, down the steep slope,
watch out for the cedar stump that was cut off six inches above the soil
line (I really need that electric chain saw....) and WOWZERS!!!!!! My
"Diane" witch hazel is blooming!!! WOO HOO!! This is a first since it
arrived bare root from Carroll Gardens and had blossoms all along it. It
never bloomed since, and now here it was, doing what it does. How I
wished I could capture the scent, but it was too cold today. Oh well, I
thanked the fairy in charge and moved to look at the other bushes on the
opposite side of the raised boxes.

Inside the box, a tree peony was unfurling rosy dark plum feathers of
leaves. I need to consider bringing my pruners with me so I can snip off
the dead stems at the emerging leaves next time. Dropping down to the
flat terraced level and seeing green, I realize what it is trying to
strangle the Mock orange of Mary Emma's, and reach and started to unwind a
finger thick vine. Hateful honeysuckle. I hate it almost as bad as my
Vinca Major. At least the Vinca stays on the ground and does it's
conquests from below. Honeysuckle strangles the life out of everything. I
unwrapped the vines and got to the soil, tugged it after wrapping the vine
around my arm and with that leverage, was able to rip it out of winter
softened soils. It did my heart good to see roots and vine tearing up
feet from the bush I'd tucked against the base of the tulip poplar tree
near the woods room.

The woods room was angry with me, though. Wild raspberries and other
hateful things have leapt into the midst of it. I need to locate those
rose gloves and do some serious destruction this spring. I can't tarry
any longer. I moved to the northeastern corner and looked at the Harry
Lauder's Walking stick and no catkins dangling down yet. I might be able
to lift it yet and transplant it underneath the black walnut tree.

I had to laugh. The Kousa dogwood looked decent, but at the base of the
five story Jack pine, the little rooted shoot of Forsythia I tucked into
the clay had taken root, and this was the flash of yellow I'd seen from
the deck. The Zebra grass was also still there, and considering I'd lost
all three clumps after having it for almost 18 years, well at least I have
a source for replacement. I'll have to clean out all the vinca before I
replant the grasses. And I might not plant the grass at the gate again.
It's become a Crape Myrtle island, I tucked in a Kerria Japonica (flora
pleno variety) and am tempted to take one of the single Kerria's and add
it with her double sister and give them the run of the little garden spot
to fill out underneath the Myrtles. Of course, cleaning out the Vinca is
easier said than done.

I moved back carefully through the tangle and grasping of the wild
raspberry canes that shimmer with a purplish white cast that identifies
them immediately from the blackberries. Back through the opening where I
spot a yellow flash. Bend down, it's a golden crocus, and next to it, a
creamy one that begs me to lift it and tuck it in somewhere else to be
relished and enjoyed. I look over at the base of the other Jack pine and
see the small fig tree and that's another joke on me. I'd forgotten I'd
taken it from it's rooted place near the mother up top and tucked it in as
an experiment on transplanting. It took and thrived, and I forgot about
it in the two years of disaster I've gone through these last two years.
This year it might blow me away with fruit. We'll see. The least it will
be would be a good plant to lift and keep for transplanting.

Back through the tight pathway, I make mental notes to bring loppers with
me next time and remove the encroaching vines, privet and saplings and
clean the fence row out again. There's a trowel here somewhere.....ahhh,
there it is....and I turn and go back to the little lone crocus and lift
her gently. Tuck her into a rectangular pot that used to house the Anne
Greenaway lamium that died horribly, and firm it in the soil. Watered it
with pond water and hoped for the best.

Everywhere I saw Feverfew leaves. Good. I love it. Tongues of irises
poking up at the sky in arrogance. More and more sightings of daffs, the
pot of persistent mums already has leaves at the base of the brown stems.
I might stage the pot upon some bricko blocks to give it more or a
cascade. Behind this huge nursery pot, another smaller one filled to
overflowing with Heuchera. I always forget names. But that reminds me,
and I go to the square pot that has the Lime one and Amber Waves and the
sedum, Turkish Stars. Looking good......and oooo!! SNOW CROCUS!!!!
AWESOME. And tangled up hopelessly, henbit and the other little weed...and
ackkk, wild strawberry. That will be a bear to get out. Oh well, I'll
patiently wait for the flowers to spend, and get down on my knees and
carefully dig up the roots later when it's a bit warmer. I'll need to
find my dandelion digger though to do it with.

The winds were tearing at me, my nose was cold and starting to drip on me,
so I knew it was time to throw it in until another day. But I promise
there will be more. Much, much more. On the way into the kitchen, I
stopped to plug in the extension cord to the pump in the trough that the
goldfish live in during the truer Spring and Summer and partial Fall, and
was rewarded with the trickling sound of the water as it made it's way
past the rocks of the "stream bed" and finally out the drop off point.
The little resin goddess with the wine urn wasn't coming out. I'd need to
clean the lines later as well. I was cold enough to pass on the idea.

Inside, I discovered that someone had called the mutts in and they were
frantically waiting for mama to come inside. Lots of canine love, then
turning, I saw the meatloaf cat, the great Pudd (aka, Polluxx) waiting for
his own greeting. He greeted me like the dogs, only he did a pretty good
"Skexis" impersonation (remember those creatures in "Dark Crystal"? Pudd
sounds exactly like them, only quieter) and asked me "hmmm?? where you
been Ma????" and I gave him a scritch and moved towards the nook to try
and write a bit after washing my dirty fingers off.....where did I get
dirty fingers? Oh yeah...pulling honeysuckle, transplanting a crocus,
trying to tear out one strawberry plant.....little things like that.
yeah. I love it. First smudgy fingers! Let Spring begin~!

Oh, and since I'm getting ye attentions, it's almost officially spring,
because now it's the 5th and Maggie the only female feline I have now, had
broken the code and brought me the first dead vole!! Until later, and I
promise maddie is back!

madgardener, up on the ridge, back in Fairy Holler, overlooking English
Mountain in Eastern Tennessee, zone 7, Sunset zone 36