I've been using my Fiskars shrub rake to gently scrape them back. The other day, I spied something green beneath the nearly translucent snow.
|Green joy: Poppy sees tiny tulip|
stubs on March 28.
It was a little bit of tiny Thyme huddled up against a gnome sculpture left to fend for itself when the first snow fell.
It's little things like that that keep us gardeners going, that heat up the need to plant, prune, rake and feed.
Even the spring bulbs close to the house are slowed by the lingering snow cover. I planted tulips in the raised bed on the south side of the house, and they're usually at least a week ahead of those planted in the yard. But when you have a couple of tons of snow on the roof that has to be shoveled off, it has to go somewhere. And it goes in a humongous pile below the roof line and on top of anything planted there.
|Hunkered down Hellebores|
waiting for a warm day.
Surprisingly, things are just a couple of weeks later than normal. Like 2012 only in reverse, growth has been picked up like Dorothy's house and plopped down on a completely different date on the calendar.
Hellebores are hunkered down like turtle heads afraid to come out of their shells. The tips of hydrangeas are pinned down in the icy remnants of the snow. I couldn't help popping one up and out of its private refrigerator. A mistake. The movement popped the viable flower head right off.
|My first snowdrop - March 29.|
March usually provides us with the first egg hunt, only instead of eggs, we're hunting for color beneath winter's detritus.
It's a good thing for us gardeners we've been made much more aware through this rewarding pastime.
|Hamamelis virginiana or American witch hazel|