Spring, Is That You?

January and February are such a slog. The winter months always leave me feeling about half dead. 

I feel like this camellia I have in my yard. My parents gave it to me several years ago, and I dug it up to bring with me when I moved to my current house. I thought the move killed it, but eventually new growth emerged. This year, that tough old bird finally decided to bloom, three years after she nearly died.

March came in like a lion—a storm last week knocked a tree down, leaving my neighborhood without power for about 14 hours, flinging my lasagna gardening cardboard all over the place, and bending the stems of some of my daffodils. Picking those fragrant lovelies to bring inside wasn’t too much of a hardship, though.

In spite of unpredictable weather and seasonal allergies, I love spring. This year has been especially lovely, as my daffodils have been multiplying and naturalizing and my tulips are emerging with the sunshine.

This is my first year growing tulips, and I love the big bold blooms, how they open and close. These are allegedly long-stemmed and perennial, so I’m hoping they will keep growing and come back year after year. 

Tulips can grow throughout Alabama, but they may require a bit more care in the warmer, southernmost parts of the state. It can’t hurt to put a few bulbs out in the fall just to try, though. 

The sugar snaps I planted last month are starting to pop up. I tossed out a ton of flower seeds in my pollinator garden ahead of the rain this week, and I planted French marigold seeds along the borders of my vegetable gardens. Marigolds are gorgeous for borders, reseed well, and function as natural pest control. 

I have three little tomato plants that I started from seed I saved, and I couldn’t be prouder. I’m fairly certain they’re delicious Large Barr Boar tomatoes, but I used a Flair pen instead of a Sharpie on my markers (teachers can never resist a Flair pen) and it smudged, so it’s a bit of a mystery. 

In early April after my average last frost date has passed, I’ll be planting my mystery tomatoes with marigolds and elephant garlic. Companion planting is functional as well as aesthetically pleasing, and I’m also planning to plant a row of mammoth sunflowers behind the tomatoes for support.

My garden and I are coming back to life, and none too soon. This is a time to get creative, to find beauty, and to nourish ourselves and our loved ones. This is a time to get our hands dirty. Let’s get to work.