Spring is a gorgeous time in a Midwest garden, especially when you have camera in hand.
The past week has been rainy and warm, perfect weather for everything that grows. We had a brief respite from the wet yesterday, so I took quiet time in my garden for renewal. I found that the greens were greener than ever and much of the garden had sprung into bloom. Every corner of the yard had a pleasant surprise.
There were fragrant lilacs, waving in the breeze ...
... and tulips galore.
The grassy places were filled with wild violets, giving the yard a purple cast.
And these petite beauties had even started peeking out from their hiding places.
But the most spectacular sight of the season was one we will have to remember in our minds alone -- one no gardener could have planned or planted.
During a warm spell on Sunday afternoon, we hiked a local nature area with my parents. Our trail overlooked the river, and as the river-view emerged from the trees, before us lay endless acres of bluebells. It looked as though a misty pale blue fog was descending upon the shoreline. Just inside the trees, blue morphed into pale pink mounds of Spring Beauties.
How I wished I had my camera, just to share the beauty of it. It was breathtaking. And we stood in silence, drinking it in, for quite a long time.
At long last we continued on, circling down to the rivers edge -- a place we often play during hikes in the summertime. The water level was higher than usual, so the rocky shoals were all but buried. We spied a northern water snake innocuously sunning itself, and left it alone to enjoy the warmth. The boys picked along the shoreline in their water shoes and rolled-up jeans, looking for fossil rocks while my daughter plunged into the shallows. We took care to explain the swifter, deeper Spring current, but increased caution could not hamper their explorer's spirit. Even in the shallows, we played our hearts out.
The family returned home exhausted and happy, with muddy pants and sunkissed faces. I thought, such is the wonder of Midwest Springtime. And my father remarked to me on what a beautiful home we have made here. The image of the field of bluebells, he said, will remain with him for a long time.
I feel the same way. There is no place on earth I would rather be.
- Midwest Mom