The cloudies have gotten to me this year. For the first time since moving to this beautiful northern land. Last week, desperate for some vitamin D, I wandered around my late winter garden during a few hours of bright sunshine. As hungry as I get for spring, I'm always surprised when the earth parts to reveal the seemingly early arrival of the green-tipped sprouts of the daffodils, iris and tulips. And it's so funny, I know they're there. I planted them myself. But somehow, during the winter months, I'd forgotten all about them. Forgotten where I'd planted them. Forgotten that I'd planted them.
Last spring, while on one of my walk-abouts, I noticed some fresh green foliage coming up in a couple different places in the garden between my house and garage. I thought, "what the heck is that? Some weird northwest weed?" I decided to leave it alone and watch it for a while to see what it would become. Thankfully I did, as it turned into the most lovely bleeding hearts. The same ones that I'd planted as little roots not that many months ago in the fall.
Normally, I don't hesitate to yank out any weed, but somehow, some ancient memory must have broadcast loudly enough the cry of those little bleeding hearts, prompting me to just wait and see.
I'm excited to discover what else I've got growing out there. Maybe I should think about investing in a few plant markers... naaw... that would just spoil the surprises!