Spring in the hollow means the ides of March and birthdays for its mistress, Milo, and the east meadow beech. Milo turns 14, I turn 66, and the beech, planted for my fiftieth, turns 16. We are all thriving.
Spring is coming in like a lamb, with no severe weather and all the mid-season daffodils peaking – ‘Ice Follies’ and Leucojum, the giant snowflake, in their glory, early Tete-a-Tetes fading, and late comers like ‘Salome’ coming on strong. ‘Pink Charm’ peony has broken ground. The old white redbud is just coming into bloom and spicebush (Lindera benzoan) has been out for a week or so. Saw the first spicebush swallowtail on my birthday, the 18th. Got to be a good sign.
Planted Wando English peas two weeks ago (mid-20th century variety, “the most productive pea for late sowings where heat is a problem” – I remember Peggy Cornett and Peter Hatch used to plant it at Monticello) with dogwood branches for pea stakes, from the tree we reluctantly took down because it interfered with the view. No regrets. Sometimes you must be brutal in the garden.
Added half dozen Jersey Knight asparagus to renew the old straggly bed; a reliable male variety, to join the one I already have here in the hollow.