Going for Gold

After several rainy days (and migraine headaches), it was lovely to round a corner yesterday morning on our way back from the first walk of the day and discover that a neighbor's magnificent trumpet daffodils were in full, riotous, golden bloom. The corner of her garden looked like a display of lighted candles, and the sight was breathtaking.

In the park, the overstory was full of amorous birds singing their hearts out. Trout lilies and Dutchman's breeches were rising through last autumn's fallen leaves, and the first tiny bloodroot and hepatica leaves were up.  Our favorite trail through the woods was dappled with tiny, fuzzy red maple flowers, and the pollen tickled my nose. I sneezed.

We (Beau and I) can hardly believe our eyes and our good fortune. On morning walks, we stop every few feet to stare at the riches around us, and with all the splendor along the way, it is a wonder we ever find our way home again. 

The gnarly old crabapple in the front yard is wearing magenta buds, and the day lilies in the garden behind the house are already a few inches  high. When I pulled the draperies closed last night, the alder buckthorn along the fence was bare. This morning it is sporting thousands of miniscule green leaves.

Introduced to North America from Europe a few centuries ago, the alder buckthorn (Frangula alnus) is an invasive species here, and by rights it ought to be removed from my garden, but that is not going to happen. I love its glossy leaves. The flowers are valuable sources of nectar for bees, and the berries provide nourishment for winter birds. The needs of bugs and birds come first around here, and they always will. I prune the little tree vigorously from time to time and try to keep it in line.

Repairs on the crumbling chimney of the little blue house are supposed to begin today. Bricks in good condition will be mortared back into place and a few replaced entirely, then a fetching new metal cap set in place. I am going to miss the present arrangement, most of all, the crooked little tin hat sitting up there now. It has such character.

While the work is in progress, there will be much thumping and clattering on the roof, but that is quite all right. Everything may change if a weather front moves in from the Gatineau hills across the river, but skies are clear this morning. So far, so good.