The right of spring

I love spring. Our garden is filled with wonder, new growth, and the promise of the coming warmer months.

Each day I tour our Portland, OR garden to see what happened while I was away at work. Have the peas started twining the way up the trellis? Are there any new tulips that opened while I was away at work today? Have the summer blooming perennials peeped their heads out of the soil yet?

I also love-hate spring. It is filled with waiting for what might be. And, this spring seems to be off to a slower start than normal due to the cool, wet weather we have been having.

Is this Mother Nature teaching me to be patient? Or, a chance to get to all of those spring clean-up chores I often over look?

Each week or so I take photos of our garden to track its progress. Mark and I have been in our home for going on three years now and the photos certainly tell the story of a garden coming in to its own.

Pictured below is our front bed last spring and this spring.




























Perhaps I don't love-hate spring. Perhaps the waiting is part of the garden- a chance to reflect on what it was and to dream of what it will be?

Whatever the case may be, I have come to the conclusion that it is the right of spring to decide its own path. And it is my job to enjoy it for what it is - torrential showers, lush unfurling foliage, tightly spun buds, scattered spent petals, and pockets of sunshine.

Here are some photos from the past weekend's tour of the garden:






The whole front yard is literally dancing in the breeze.




















I love the strong presence of these purple tulips with the huechera peeking out from behind. Then, the huechera will take center stage as we move into summer.














The strappy yucca provides a striking focal point for bulbs - in spring for tulips and daffodils followed by allium in the summer months.


















Yay! The first bloom of a violet that comes from my grandmother's garden in Maryland via my parent's garden in California.









Veggies that overwintered are starting to take hold throughout the garden.