Today a gaggle of small yellow flowers surprised me as I walked down the driveway. My family calls them “Sunnies,” but you might know them as Coltsfoot. As much as I know they are around, I’m always happily startled by their sudden appearance. Like the Jack-in-the-box toy, only sweeter. They pop up where the ground is amazingly inhospitable for plants: on gravel road edges or along railroad tracks. Brave souls. I begin to feel hopeful about the year, anticipating happy surprises.
Imagine the surprise, more akin to panic, of the arrival, unannounced, of a box of 114 blueberry plants at 5 pm, after everyone else is gone. The plants need to breathe and be checked for possible damage. That was Wednesday. By Friday, after scrounging for peat moss and inventing a way to get water from the small seasonal stream nearest the field, 34 Spartans and 34 Hurons were planted, watered, and partly mulched. The others are tucked away in the garage out of the stresses of too much heat, too much cold, or too much light. Thank you, weather, for cooperating.
Perhaps all will be well-planted, watered, and mulched before Tuesday.
Everyone tells me not to print photos of swollen blueberry buds, so I didn’t (even though they are fascinating). But I did take a picture of Spartan buds, while Karen and Zeb were busy planting replacement bushes. Ask if you want to see it. Surprise me!