Springin' along

Some, I'm sure, would swear that seeing a robin serves as the first sign of spring. I'm pretty sure my mother was in that camp. 

Others may contend that it's the job of the crocus to make this announcement.

As for me, it's seeing a thicket of snowdrops that tells me spring is on its way. 

With the hard cold (for here) that we've had, the possibility of a new season feels very welcome. And with yesterday's observance of the Lunar New Year, the timing seems just right. Let there be dragons (so long as they're gentle, kind ones). 

Now, if only it would warm up a little more so it would also feel more as if spring is truly
near at hand. 

Hard at work

What a job! But hey, someone's gotta do it. 

And really, it would be hard to find a prettier place to work than in the heart of a full-blown rhododendron blossom. 

Luckily, some of the bee's pals have been poking their way into blossoms on our fruit trees, as there are now a few eensy plums and peaches, as well as heaps of quince -- the promise of autumn bounty. 

On again off again spring

This past week has seen temps going up and down, from T-shirt afternoons to bundled-up as if ready for snow mornings.

The sun has meant I've managed to get myself outside more. I've pruned a friend's blackberries, trimmed some butterfly bushes and rhododendrons, and hacked the dead bits off of some of our roses too.

While the snowdrops are to be expected this time of year (and are out, in their usual proliferation), the daffs and tulips are up a good hand span, looking green and fresh -- a welcome sight. And the little treasure above (a cyclamen, something I generally overwater and kill) said hello to me from a friend's garden patch -- a friend who, unlike me, was a dedicated and skilled gardener.

Sadly, the meaning of the cyclamen is resignation and goodbye.

Even though that gardener friend has been gone a couple of years now, I don't suppose I'll ever be quite ready for a final goodbye -- especially when I see such lovely signs of life from her.

Plus and minus

A day of positives and negatives equals what -- not a zero -- life isn't math. Although zeroes are what happened on Jeopardy the other night. Apparently, it was only the second time that all three contestants finished up with a total of zero dollars. Bye bye was the negative message they got. Out the door with them.

And I'm not sure how today's negatives and positives weigh out to any kind of balance.

A positive is the fact that it's Australia Day, though by the time this is getting posted, the fireworks displays will long be over. Yet even that day of celebration by many is observed as a Day of Mourning by that country's Aboriginal people.

An announcement about the Doomsday Clock also spelled out worse news today, as the clock has again moved closer to midnight.

Yet today while I was out walking on errands, I encountered a Peace rose in bloom. Not far from it, I found another bunch of those happy little flowers I've been seeing everywhere, those early harbingers of spring, the snow drops.

With those in mind, I'm counting this as a plus kind of day.

Better late than never?

If I'd been serious about having bulbs in bloom for Christmas Day, I would have got started on this project much sooner. Unfortunately, too many sad things have slowed me down the last little while, the saddest being the death of a very dear friend.

Still, where she was such a skilled gardener (and especially fond of items that were exotic), it seemed important to at least start a few pots of bulbs for forcing even if they might not bloom until the new year.

The ones in the photo are one of the most traditional (and easiest) bulbs for this, paper-white narcissi, and despite how they might resemble a pan of yummy roasted onions, they are definitely not an edible.

I also planted a couple of hyacinths, each in their own Christmas-themed cup. They're so very fragrant when they bloom, they can't help but bring sweet thoughts of springtime.

My wildest experiment (also in a cup) is the Acmopetala Fritallaria. It's supposed to be easy to grow (though that may only apply to outside in the garden or in the Middle East, where they're from). Whatever, it's a species that's got to be easier to grow than to pronounce.

And just to ensure a showy display, I've got an amaryllis with a pretty good start. Those showy trumpeting blossoms are guaranteed to brighten the darkest day or mood.

I'm looking forward to having all these flowers in bloom to help me to celebrate, whether it's Christmas or New Year's or for that matter, Australia Day. Something bright and sweet to remind me of Jane.

Infamy does not equal fame

I’m tired of news stories telling me about guys who’ve gone amok and shot up a crowd of people they don’t even know. Even more so, I’m tired of hearing their names, seeing their faces.

I can’t help but think that too many commit their horrid crimes strictly for some sick chance at instant fame.

It used to be that fame required a certain amount of talent and took a number of years to achieve. Fame sometimes came only after one’s death – Emily Dickinson, Vincent Van Gogh.

But now, in our age of instant-everything, the opportunity for immediate fame seems to lie only a few rounds of ammo away.

Today, the 67th anniversary of the atomic bomb on Nagasaki, seems a good day to remember victims. Simon Partington, Sarah de Vries, Jessica Ghawi – those names are more important to remember than the names of their murderers.

Maybe if we’d stop naming the perpetrators of crimes, not splashing their images all over the Internet, tv and print publications – maybe some of them wouldn’t bother taking their pathetic shots at unearned, ugly kinds of fame. Who knows, they might even decide to do something positive.

So, why the nasturtium as image for this particular rant? Ironically, in the language of flower-meanings, the nasturtium is symbol of victory in battle. But maybe remembering victims instead of perpetrators of crime would be a kind of victory.

The reds in this plant on my deck are so doggone wildly red, and their randomness amongst the paler blooms and greenery is not unlike the negative lottery that seems to determine today’s unsuspecting victims. And its straggly legs seem a good reminder of our interconnectedness with each other. If we take the time to look for it, even the simplest, most easy-to-grow summer flower can offer a kind of lesson worth considering.

Industrious

It's hard to see the work that's going on here, but there's a bumblebee toiling away in the flowers out on the deck. He's certainly doing more than I feel like I've been doing, as his little 'saddlebags' look nearly overflowing with bright orange pollen.

The flower is probably happier too, knowing it's been 'serviced' so well -- and on such a lovely summer day.

Flowers aren't only for Mother's Day

Probably one of the first Mother's Day gifts I gave was a handful of something I'd wrenched out of my mother's garden.

Fresh flowers are life-affirming, so it makes sense that we give flowers to our mothers, the source of life for each of us. Even google has incorporated flowers into its header/logo today.

The photo, taken on a blustery April day in Vancouver, is of Eric -- and it's the first day of business for him at his flower stand on the corner of Georgia and Seymour (at least I think that's where he was -- eagle-eyed readers, please help me correct this if wrong).

As his sign indicates, there are lots of reasons to buy flowers. My favourite for receiving them? When they're for no reason at all.

P.S. Eric is an actor. So, when you buy flowers from him, you're supporting the arts. If you don't have an Eric near you, try to find some other way to lend support to the arts in your town. Do it for your mother.