April Twilight: Surprise Encounter with Spring

Photo Essay Contest

Two days ago I posted about the snowstorm we received in upstate NY. It wasn't a bad one, by any means. Nothing to compare to what the folks endured along the sopping coast. But it was April, darn it, and I ached to put tine to soil and start gardening in earnest. So I complained. Probably too much. 

For days it remained gray. Spitting snow. Raining. Melting some of the white stuff. I checked my tulips, iris, and daffodils. They bent their heads in shame, enduring winter's last laugh in the form of a cold blanket.

And then it happened. Tonight, I drove home from work in this strange light. It was yellowish, golden, really, and it seemed to have some sort of warmth associated with it.

When all the chores were done, I sneaked outside to take a look around the yard, and was rewarded with the best "wet knees" adventures a photographer could dream of.

Rays of sun glinted over the grass and plants, just ready to disappear. It shone sideways, illuminating choice items. I followed it around the yard. And found these beautifully lit tulip leaves.  Standing upright. Strong. And healthy. My knees were soaked by the time I was sure I had that "perfect shot." 

I scanned the front yard, which only that morning had been covered with a thick blanket of snow. There, in the distance, I saw something red. Something alive, glowing in the rays of the sun. 

I found a loner, a leftover tulip that refused to give up. Planted a decade ago, this early bloomer used to be part of a collection. Its petals - backlit by the sun - glowed ruby red.

Moving around the front of the house, I crossed over the lawn and hoped to find some lively croci, but alas, they were flopped on the ground and fading. Next year I hope to capture that deep, radiant purple. 

I moved into my original perennial garden, the one I started so many years ago with phlox, daylilies, sundrops, obedient plant, rose mallow, iris, poppies, and many more varieties. It's about 20 feet across at its widest spot, amorphous in shape, and very full of leaves! When I approached the lenten roses, I nearly dropped. There, in full bloom, were glorious, softly colored lavender/magenta flowers. Three plants, all blooming as if it were June! Afterwards, I looked them up again and realized they are SUPPOSED to do this! I'd just missed them last year, and they were a relatively new addition to the garden. Here are some of the gazillion shots I took of them.

Now, mind you, the sun had almost started to disappear. These were not in a shaft of light, but resting in twilight, smug in their ability to surprise a seasoned gardener like me.

On my knees, in the wet leaves, I snapped this one...

And this one.

Look how the diffuse light shines through the delicate petals. It almost looks like a giant apple blossom, doesn't it? But this is about 2-3 inches across. 

Here's one more. I couldn't stop taking shots.

My knees totally soaked now, I tore myself away from these beauties and followed a shaft of sunlight to the top end of my old paddock fence which encloses the largest vegetable garden now. 

One lone daffodil had pushed through the leaves and survived the snow. It is the first of many.

I found these red berries, dried and shriveled, shining in the light.

Their color was electric, an orange-crimson that glowed and begged for attention.

Not to be outdone, just inside the fence and growing beneath these berries, was a patch of Chinese Lanterns. Now, most folks find them aesthetically pleasing when they are in full bloom orange - either dried or fresh. But these were gorgeous. There's just something about the fact that they survived the harsh winter, with their frail-looking shells, and still hung from the vine, defiant and proud.

Below is one that didn't retain its color, but still hung on that vine!
 

When I thought it was all over, I tromped through the garden and found kale growing on stems that laid down on the ground. Looks harvestable to me, but I didn't get a clear shot. Next time.

On the way back to the house, another patch of reddish green called to me. I investigated, and found that my rhubarb had already sprouted, and its leaves were burned by their sudden exposure to snow. New growth is coming, though, and the old leaves will just fade away.

See that new growth? It'll be just fine.

I stopped to snap a photo of my wet knees, knowing my friend Tonia and my other Gather photographers would get a kick out of it. I had to rotate it 180 degrees so you could see what my knees looked like.

Actually, these look pretty good compared to how they'll be when the garden starts up!!

Just before coming inside, I snapped a shot of the last chunk of snow on the driveway.

 I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. ;o)