It’s 47 degrees outside in my Connecticut garden. March was a record 9 degrees warmer on average. April’s obviously not keeping up her end of the bargain.
Okay – there was no bargain. April’s supposed to be chilly and damp (May flowers and all that). It’s me who’s cold. I’ll just have to suck it up and put on a jacket and go outside. Then I’ll forget all about the temperature and get lost working in the damp earth – that’s the zen of it all.
My wild blue phlox (Phlox divaricata) loves this weather. The plants come and go in different spots; this year they’ve taken up residence next to the decaying compost pile on the side of the house (no stooges, these phlox, seeking out rich sustenance). They’re also blooming near our brook, under a once-proud pussy willow that toppled in a storm. It’s since tried to make a comeback, although I’m not sure how successfully.
Ah! My weather widget tells me it’s 49 degrees. A practical heat wave. I’m off to find my jacket, the damp spring earth — and my zen.
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