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