Easter musings…
Easter. It represents the promise of rebirth, renewal, hope and optimism. For some, it’s a time to celebrate after a Lenten period of sacrifice and charity. For many, Easter represents the return of warmer weather, spring flowers and saying goodbye to our winter gear. It’s a time to get together with family and celebrate: Easter egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, little chicks, spring outfits, fresh flowers on the table, pussy-willows, daffodils and early pansies.
Life feels optimistic.
For most of us, this Easter will be like none we’ve ever known. No large family get-togethers; families, singles and seniors are isolated at home — by necessity and for the safety of everyone in the community at large. Despite the imposed seclusion, people are coming forward to share a little love and support in remarkable ways: holiday lights and teddy bears in windows, inspirational signs posted on fences and in windows, support parades for front-line workers, an underground movement to supply face masks, and the list goes on.
I’ve seen several online projects that encourage people to slow down and look for a little magic in the everyday. For me, this project started with finding the first crocus or snowdrop in the lawn, now it’s progressed to making a point to look for (and find) something beautiful every day. Just the other morning, I pulled back the curtains to see the the first rays of sunlight stream through a cloud of mist on the back lawn. The filtered light was soft and gentle, it quietly illuminated a planter filled with spring flowers. A pair of lively nuthatches darted back and forth between the fence and the feeder, stopping just long enough to flirt and play peek-a-boo as they snatched breakfast on the fly.
Having more free time gives me the luxury of spending more time in the garden — how many glorious spring mornings have I imagined what it would be like to just stay home from work and garden? I’m taking advantage of these precious mornings.
This week, I celebrated a parade of early daffodils, like King Alfred types (yellow), Mount Hood (white), Ice Follies (white with yellow trumpet), Tete-a-Tete (miniature yellow), Jetfire (dwarf yellow with orange trumpet) and Jack Snipe (dwarf white with yellow trumpet). The scent of the first hyacinths called me before I noticed the flowers had started to pop. I once believed hyacinths were not worth planting out in the garden after they had bloomed in a pot. This is not true — give them a little space and time — they will repeat bloom and multiply. OK, the flowers are not as showy, but I don’t mind the relaxed look and appreciate the long blooming period. The blues of the grape hyacinths and periwinkle are just about ready to open — they do a good job tempering the yellow and white daffodils.
On walks around the neighbourhood, I check for signs of spring. Patches of sweet violets, glory of the snow (violet with a white eye), winter aconite (chrome yellow) and scilla (violet) populate long abandoned gardens — often stretching out to the sidewalk to greet passersby willing to slow down and enjoy the colours.
In older neighbourhoods, these spring ephemerals carpet neglected hedgerows and spread with wild abandon across forgotten lawns, celebrating the optimistic gardener who introduced them to their patch of garden so many years ago.
Opportunistic weeds are hoping to get a solid toe hold in the garden before we notice — this is the perfect time to spend half-an-hour uprooting a bucket-full of weeds every day. It’s very satisfying, and I find it’s a great stress reliever. Uproot young dandelions, wild garlic, wild mustard, lesser celandine, Queen Anne’s lace, buttercup, lady’s thumb, and quack grass before they turn into thugs and over-run the garden. My tool of choice for this job is a Japanese Hori-Hori, with a long, sturdy stainless steel blade and a serrated cutting edge on one side. (Stay tuned, next week we’ll take a closer look at weeds in general).
Another online project that has caught my attention offers a glimpse into what participants were doing on this same day in years gone by. Some are so exact, they even tie it down to the hour (easy enough to do if you take a lot of pictures, and can read the metadata on file.) In this spirit, I called up the 11th of April (or as close as possible) for the past three years.
April 11, 2017 saw the daffodils in full bloom, just as they are this year; while, April 11, 2018 the daffodils were pinched tight and holding their own through a blanket of spring snow. April 11, 2019 had no image — we were on route to visit our B.C. crew that day. I stepped back a day or two, and the spring planters were filled with dwarf daffodils (Tete-a-Tete, the same daffodils have naturalized and are blooming today in the home garden), pansies and early tulips. The fine weather didn’t last, we had a very cold spring. The final shot was taken this week, a spring planter filled with potted bulbs from our local growers purchased at their drive-thru flower stands, a unique feature this year.
No doubt, we will all remember where we were and how we celebrated Easter 2020 — look for a little homegrown colour, celebrate the beauty that is spring, be kind to each other — make this Easter memorable for the right reasons.
Theresa Forte is an award winning garden columnist, photographer and speaker. You can reach her by calling 905-3517540 or by email fortegardens@gmail.com