Bloomin' Cold
Last Monday it was 103 degrees (F) here in Minneapolis (the hottest it's been in the state since the 80's), and today we almost hit 70 in the sun. Dramatic weather is the norm for a Minnesota spring, but this week really pushed the extremes.
I, personally, was glad to see the sun on Monday. My garden has been looking a little shrimpy so far this year, and the lovely sun, followed by some rain and more sun, has put everything into overdrive. Some of my plants have doubled in size, and it's starting to look like a proper garden, rather than a row of seedlings.
Even better, the flowers have finally come out to play. First, the Champlain red rose:
Then the deep pink Winnipeg Parks:
And finally the volunteer Irises from our next door neighbor's yard:
The peonies were already in bloom:
And the dianthus plants (more about them later):
In Minnesota, we put up with a lot to get to our beautiful springs. This last winter we had record breaking snows on top of the cold and ice. It is such a relief to look out my window, no matter how cloudy it is, and see a world exploding with color.
As I said, Monday was hot. There was a heat advisory for the twin cities which warned people to stay inside unless absolutely necessary. Where was I? In the garden. That's right, I went to college. And like most people with college degrees, I am apparently seriously lacking in common sense. But I had two plants which had not gone in the ground yet, baking in their pots. So I went out to water.
As I let my sprinkler go on the other side of my little garden patch, I started clearing out the space where I would put my new plants. I looked up to see a robin and another brown bird (possibly also a robin) swooping in, most likely looking for worms brought up by the extra water. I like my worms and so I got up to shoo them, out of habit. The robin took off, very annoyed. But the other brown bird just sat there, and eventually hopped around to the other side of one of the bushier plants, to pretend that if I couldn't see her, she couldn't see me. This didn't work, but I found that no matter how close I got to her, she just stayed, or found a new hiding spot. I let her be once I saw that she was not headed for the worms, but for a bath, and a good soak. In 103 degree weather, I can't say I blame her for it.
That's another joy I've acquired from gardening, discovering just how alive this urban environment really is.
I, personally, was glad to see the sun on Monday. My garden has been looking a little shrimpy so far this year, and the lovely sun, followed by some rain and more sun, has put everything into overdrive. Some of my plants have doubled in size, and it's starting to look like a proper garden, rather than a row of seedlings.
Even better, the flowers have finally come out to play. First, the Champlain red rose:
As I said, Monday was hot. There was a heat advisory for the twin cities which warned people to stay inside unless absolutely necessary. Where was I? In the garden. That's right, I went to college. And like most people with college degrees, I am apparently seriously lacking in common sense. But I had two plants which had not gone in the ground yet, baking in their pots. So I went out to water.
As I let my sprinkler go on the other side of my little garden patch, I started clearing out the space where I would put my new plants. I looked up to see a robin and another brown bird (possibly also a robin) swooping in, most likely looking for worms brought up by the extra water. I like my worms and so I got up to shoo them, out of habit. The robin took off, very annoyed. But the other brown bird just sat there, and eventually hopped around to the other side of one of the bushier plants, to pretend that if I couldn't see her, she couldn't see me. This didn't work, but I found that no matter how close I got to her, she just stayed, or found a new hiding spot. I let her be once I saw that she was not headed for the worms, but for a bath, and a good soak. In 103 degree weather, I can't say I blame her for it.
That's another joy I've acquired from gardening, discovering just how alive this urban environment really is.
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