Typical March Weather

First showing of redbud, barely visible through evening rain.

We've had a weather mix, to be expected in a Kentucky spring; the spring season most anywhere is one of fits and starts--balmy warmth, rain, wind and chilly evenings. 

Most days thus far have offered a mixture of clouds and sun with brief showers.

Daytime temps have risen to the mid-high 70's F, causing the meadow to green and the wild daffodils to rush into their prime.

Driving today on the Dunneville RD I noted that the south-facing curve in the road that presents the first yellow blooms is now bare of flowers.

I have prowled about outside, clipped back the plants in the raised beds, counted 6 foxgloves that seem to have survived the late fall planting. Several more poppies have emerged along the edge of the raised bed by the front steps and three are growing in a huddle inside the newest bed. No sign of the lemon monarda that I expected would be perennial. Achillea raised from seed is flourishing in one of the black bins and will need a permanent home.

Signs of life have [amazingly!] emerged on all three of the buddleia. 

The resident squirrels are busy; phoebes are investigating nesting spots in the open alleyways each side of the shop.

Asian lady beetles have squeezed through the window casings in the sun porches in such numbers that vacuuming them seems the only way to remove them, with the result that the vacuum cleaner emits a rank odor whenever it is used.

My thoughts are as unsettled as the weather--decisions to make about my gardens; family concerns. Like many others I am distressed by the uproar caused by war and by the conflicting reports regarding it; how is it possible to trust a government controlled by unstable personalities.

Edgy, restless, distrustful, I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall.

I work outdoors as much as I can. If the afternoon is sunny, I brew a mug of tea, take a snack of sliced apple and cheese, sit in a rocking chair in the south-east sunroom, cats companionably sprawled on the floor--or in the case of Thimble--perched on a windowsill to watch the swooping of birds, the dashing of a squirrel under the trees.

So much is beyond what we can influence or control, in the greater world, and in our own small sphere,

Que sera, sera!

The fire-damaged magnolia in the lower pasture, still robustly blooming.

This photo gives an idea of the damaged stumps of the trunk that have been cut away.

Note that the remaining portion of the trunk is also compromised.

Two small clumps of wild daffodils growing in the underbrush above the south ravine.

I've thought of moving them to join a rescued clump near the east retaining wall of our house.

The lower magnolia is the hybrid, "Jane" coming into full bloom always a few days earlier than the nearer one, "Susan." Below are my two lilacs, not perfectly happy in our humid summers, but providing a nostalgic memory of springtime in New England.

"Susan."

Forsythia, where the curve of our upper drive joins the communal lane.

Clematis "Candida" rushing the season as usual.

All my clematis are showing some degree of fresh growth.

I planted common and lemon thyme at the base of the two growing on the large trellis in the back garden. The thyme has spread--which is good--the usual weeds, henbit/dead nettle, the other green and juicy ones that I haven't named are growing rankly.

This morning I wrestled with matted wiry stems trying to bring some order to the untidy clumps. 

Wind and rain this evening tearing petals from the magnolias.

To paraphrase Shakespeare: 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of--March!'