March , 2012

 March 12, 2012

 Crocuses in Essex Junction

To the right are the earliest blooming Crocuses I have ever had. They usually grace us with their presence at the end of March.






A Walk in March

"This hill
crossed with broken pines and maples
lumpy with the burial mounds of
uprooted hemlocks (hurricane
of ’38) out of their
rotting hearts generations rise
trying once more to become
the forest
just beyond them 
tall enough to be called trees 
in their youth like aspen a bouquet 
of young beech is gathered
they still wear last summer’s leaves  
the lightest brown almost translucent 
how their stubbornness has decorated  
the winter woods"
-  Grace Paley, A Walk in March



March weather sayings:
 

When March comes in like a lion it goes out like a lamb.

So many mists in March, so many frosts in May.  

April borrows three days from March and their all ill.  

A wet March, a wet Spring.

As it rains in March so it rains in June.

March winds and April showers

Bring forth May flowers.

A dry March and a wet May
Fill barns and bays with corn and hay.

When your bones hurt a storm is coming. 

If it rains on Easter Sunday, it will rain every Sunday for seven weeks.

 

When bees stay close to the hive rain is close by.

Count the cricket chirps to tell the temperature. 

Compiled from Spirit of Gardening

February , 2012

In February

My windchime fell -- the string broke,
and before the light had left the afternoon
I saw through the window that it had fallen.
I went out in my shoes on the leaves and stones
where the ground and broken branches slope down,
and I peeered and squinted in the cold grey space
for the gleam of gold on the brown.
I found it against the wall, but crippled:
it had lost a delicate metal piece
so that, more than ever like me,
the wind could hardly make it sing.
The wind blew when I came back in,
but I was not tempted to hang the chime again,
so it lay crumpled on the table
until another time, safe for new string,
which slowly decays after days of rain.

Sibalan Forrester

January, 2012

The Garden in Winter

Frosty-white and cold it lies
Underneath the fretful skies;
Snowflakes flutter where the red
Banners of the poppies spread,
And the drifts are wide and deep
Where the lilies fell asleep.

But the sunsets o'er it throw
Flame-like splendor, lucent glow,
And the moonshine makes it gleam
Like a wonderland of dream,
And the sharp winds all the day
Pipe and whistle shrilly gay.

Safe beneath the snowdrifts lie
Rainbow buds of by-and-by;
In the long, sweet days of spring
Music of bluebells shall ring,
And its faintly golden cup
Many a primrose will hold up.

Though the winds are keen and chill
Roses' hearts are beating still,
And the garden tranquilly
Dreams of happy hours to be­
In the summer days of blue
All its dreamings will come true.
Lucy Maud Montgomery