Green Days

Rainy days ruined barbecue plans for the holiday weekend but brought on an explosion of green. We needed that rain. From my windows, gaps of space that only a week ago framed a glimpse of houses and yards have filled with fresh shades of green. The leaves have fully emerged. Driving the winding roads in morning rain, where before I could look through the woods at tree trunks and rocks, I now see only green. 

I savored the long spring we experienced this year after the long, tough winter in the Northeast. Cherry, dogwood and other blossoms hung on much longer than without the quick, almost overnight thermostat rise we have become accustomed to in recent years. For us gardeners, when to plant tenders like tomato plants became a gamble. During one odd hot day I did the seasonal switch of clothes and curtains, turning my cozy living room into a lighter, airier space. Then the temperatures dropped again and I was digging out my too hastily packed sweaters. This past cold rainy weekend I thought hard about throwing the last of the firewood on my porch into the cleaned out woodstove. I resisted, instead, using blankets while I watched television. 

The rains have left and the sun is shining and summer has moved in. I’ve mowed the lawn twice so far and the hedge is already growing wild. The first of the peonies grace my table.

I love this time of year. My whole body relaxes, even though my chores have increased. Besides the lawn to mow, the hedge to clip, there are an abundance of weeds to pull. Summer furniture to retrieve from the garage. While I write this inside, soon, most of my life will be lived outside – puttering in the garden or sitting on the back or front porch. 

I have a good life. I am cognizant that the number of green springs I will get to see is not infinite and because of my age, almost countable. Maybe 20? That’s if I’m lucky. And I mean that from both sides. I’m not interested in living forever and 87 sounds like more than enough to me right about now. Thus, the greening of spring is glorious to watch. The softening of branches of a wood where all winter long there have only been angles and earth colors. Then comes the rains followed by heat, blue sky and sun and SHAZAM! like magic – summer greens are dense. And comforting – like being enveloped in a fertile embrace. 

I check my gardens regularly for new sprouts. At home I have planted flower seeds in dirt patches hoping they’re not appealing to my resident rabbits, squirrels and at least one – likely more, voracious groundhog. In my community garden plot up on the hill in the city I live in, I planted leeks between the autumn sowed garlic. I separated the tiny strands clustered together in a clump in a small pot, and carefully placed each one in a deep hole I’d dug between the garlic stalks. And then I watered them. One doesn’t fill the holes with dirt following planting, you just let the dirt find its way around each shoot as you water. 

Another plot is full of lettuce I planted in early April while the days were still bitter. I can see the welcoming splotches of green as I trudge across the field to my plot. I’ll pick some leaves for a salad later, maybe some to share with friends. And so this season of bountiful green begins.