You don't know me, but might recognize me from the neighborhood. I walk by your house with the silly black Lab puppy in the early evenings; sometimes we wave to one another while you're out to bring in the garbage cans from the street.Maybe you saw me this afternoon on my knees in my good clothes in the middle of your front garden. I had the camera with me on the way in from work and couldn't resist stopping to take some pics, even though I worried you might think me a little nutty for doing it.
You see, those snowdrops you've planted have been drawing my eye for the last week or so; in fact, I look for them there every winter around this time. Last year, their blooms were suspended in ice, but my winter weary eyes were reassured at the sight of them.
If you'd noticed my pausing as I drove by earlier this month, it was just so that I might catch a glimpse of the green shoots poking the way through their bed of ivy. That was magic enough the morning I finally spotted them, but last week their blooms lifted my heart some on a day when it was otherwise heavy.
I can see from your carefully-tended garden that you're as much a lover of the most delicate flowers as I am. But snowdrops aren't delicate and they're as generous with themselves as we gardeners te
nd to be. Yours are slowly monopolizing the small space you've allotted them and before too long will be blooming down along the sidewalk. When that happens, I hope you'll forgive me if you should find me there one afternoon with a small spade in place of my camera.I'd be happy to return the favor, if only you'd knock at my door sometime and introduce yourself. I think I saw you out there one spring day at the edge of the garden with an eye on my patch of lily-of-the-valley. It's quietly covering the ground beneath the dogwood trees and making its way towards the street.
If we wait long enough, your plot of snowdrops may meet my patch of lily-of-the-valley, and then our flowers will be neighbors too and we'll not have to steal glances from one another's garden any longer.
12 comments:
Our snowdrops are blooming in the back garden too .. Spring is coming. We and our neighbor have Dueling Gardens!!!
We bunns have taken over the House of Rabbits for awhile!!! Woo Hooo.
How is ... let's see ... is it Pepper?
Send some snowdrops this way, please! We could use them.
So I'm not the only one who admires others' gardens and have taken a few photos while I was sure they weren't home :o)
Sweet story.
Coveting your neighbors' gardens is one of the true pleasures of gardening. I hope you and your neighbor share nicely! :)
Laura, that's an adorable thought for a post--will you actually make contact with her?
Or will you wonder what will bring you together.
(This reminds me of Lady and the Tramp sheepishly "discovering" eachother attached to the opposite end of a noodle!)
Why don't you do a double switch when they're not looking?
You know, I am the opposite...I see all these weird, exotic species in my neighbor's yard and I want to sneak in there in the dead of night with a shovel and dig them up and burn them. But that's just me.
:)
A flower trade would be awesome! Maybe you could go over there with a Lily of the Valley offering, a trowel and an expectant expression?
Oh snow drops--love 'em.
Maybe you should let your goofy pup do the introducing. That's the surest way to get to know neighbors--let your dog stop by. Of course, not everyone wants to meet the neighborhood dog--sad, isn't it.
Hey, how about making a 4" pot with some of your lilies in it. And take it to your neighbor, just to be 'neighborly'. And see what happens.
Only Susan would suggest sneaking in to steal and burn a neighbor's non-native plants. tee hee! I would help her.
This is such a nice post, and z-silverlight's suggestion is wonderful.
I am hoping my lily-of-the-valley takes hold this year and blooms!
Laura,
I've not dropped by in such a long while and here you are again - making me smile with pleasure at the way you find the human heart in something as simple as photographing snowdrops.
This is lovely. Print it up and put it in your neighbor's mailbox.
I shouldn't ramble so - but the quality of this post emboldens me. My lily of the valley DID grow under the fence into my neighbor's yard. Sadly, I was pleased because she was a rather assertive gal who when my patch (brought from my parent's) was still quite small, she spotted them and asked to come pick some.
Looking back - it makes me feel so petty. Now they grow in abundance in her yard and they've moved away.
the bunns (AKA rabbit's guy): At least I hope spring is just around the corner!
Peeper is doing fine - as grumpy as ever.
Trixie: Aww.. I'd be glad to, if I had 'em to sned!
Mary: Yeah, I feel funny doing such a thing!
Liza: This person's garden is just gorgeous - I would love to share!
Nina: Thanks for the chuckle! I guess I may at some point, when the spirit moves me.
Larry: Ha! I would, but the flowers don't bloom at the same time - she might notice!
Susan: You're just incorrigible - love ya anyway!
KGMom: I'm afraid that Luka might not make the best of impressions!
Z: Of course I could do that, but then I'd have nothing to write about.
;-)
Delia: She is something else, huh?
I love lily-of-the-valley in the tiniest of vases - so sweet. Snowsrops are nice that way, too.
Cathy: Nice to see you - I've been stopping by to check on you, but haven't managed to speak up lately.
;-)
Thanks for always seeing through to what's underneath my words.
I have another lily-of-the-valley story to tell; someday maybe.
Island Rambles: Glad you liked it - I had fun writing it. There's a few people in the neighborhood that I feel comfortable enough with to traipse through their yards, but not many.
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