Where Spring Takes Her Time.

 

The goldenrods of September are seven months away as I write this on the 8th of April, a day that started with an inch of snow. I have been back in New England for five years, and in not one of those years has there been an April I considered spring.  The local nurseries do not agree, and in three weeks will offer tomatoes and petunias with  a sign behind the cash register warning that nothing is safe outside until May 31. And there will be weeks so cold and wet in June that even zucchini seeds rot.

I live in Southern New Hampshire, about twenty miles from the Massachusetts line. Four miles east of here in Goffstown , one can, on a clear day, drive up one of the Uncanoonuc hills and see an insurance building in Boston.

I am a born volunteer and the gardener who renovated, designed , and cares for the gardens at the Goffstown Historical Society. I also belong to the Bow New Hampshire Garden club and help with their gardens.

I had a blog  on Blogger years ago, but went over to WordPress after I moved back to New Hampshire.

I abandoned WordPress today after I could not log in and they denied that I even had a blog. I do not speak AI and I am not a digital wizard, and sometimes it is just better to pack up your things and leave.

As I look out at the field I see that the snow has disappeared. 40 degrees will do that.

I will be writing about gardens and plants and garden people from now to November. A sweet and venerable country neighbor, who knows everyone and everyone who gardens, is anxious to drive me around visiting this year. I will be carrying a camera.

There will be peonies.