It’s close to Garden Bloggers Bloom Day which happens on the 15th of each month, and in which I used to participate religiously but honestly, I am so not a scheduled person. Sure, I like to plan and have a loose set of goals because how else does one get things done? But tell me I have to be somewhere at a certain time and immediately the anxiety level rises. Maybe it’s PTSD from working in a cube for so many years? I just don’t like to be boxed in. I work along these lines: I need this and this done by this date. Okay! Anyway, I got the urge to capture Spring. There’s much happening in the garden in spite of the cold and rain and yes, even snow these past few days. Then I thought, why wait for GBBD? Why not just capture what’s blooming in the garden when I feel like it? So, here you have it, what’s blooming in the Violet Fern Garden right now.
No, I have not disappeared off the face of the earth, although there are some who believe I am from another planet. It’s just that we have officially entered “Mayhem.” I have actually been in mayhem mode since April, however. It was a mad, mad dash to leave “paradise” literally mopping the floors on our way out the door so that hopefully, vacationing folks, would enter and stay in a clean and comfortable place. It was no small feat to purchase a house and have it turn key ready in three months. Most of the walls were freshly painted, walls came down, bamboo flooring went in, furniture was shuffled out of one place into storage and then finally shuffled into our place. Artwork was sorted, selected, framed, hung. Some landscaping was attempted, irrigation systems installed. I am flattered when I run into someone here up North and they say I look well rested. I have to chuckle.
I’m in love with sunshine, bird song, Spring, my husband, my little cabana (Cedar Kottage), paints, shells, sand, soil, plants, flowers, the air, Cedar Key and more … so much more!
I can’t believe it is mid-February already, and remember not so long ago when I felt encapsulated in time in a dark, dusty house (that seems so expansively large to me now), pinging from window to window like some lost particle in space pondering how anything could endure such a dreadful, void season. I never dreamed (or even wanted just a little bit) of a Florida migration. I never dreamed I would love Florida. But who wouldn’t love the meaning of the word, “flowery Easter?” Things change.