My jonquils are blooming and I’m thinking spring! In Oklahoma it’s generally accepted that after Easter you can start your spring planting without too much worry of another hard freeze damaging young plants.

I don’t plant vegetables although each year I consider planting some tomatoes. There is nothing better in this world than a home grown tomato. But I never get past the thinking stage, mostly because my parents plant a garden and usually supply me with all the tomatoes I can use.

What I like to plant are flowers—flowers that don’t require lots of attention. My backyard has perennials: purple wisteria, blue hydrangeas, shrub roses, climbing roses, peonies, Rose of Sharons, and other varieties of hibiscus. I love lilies—all kinds. I like tulips and irises too, but if I plant them the moles and gophers act like I’ve invited them to an all-you-can-eat underground buffet.

Although the area where I live is known for beautiful azaleas—the town has an azalea festival in the spring—the soil in my yard is not acidic enough to sustain them. I’ve tried and failed at least a half dozen times to get some established, but eventually they’ve all turned brown and made me feel guilty for their untimely demise. I should never have brought them home with me—they might have had a full life somewhere else. But I look across the road and see the azaleas in full bloom, and once more consider buying a plant or two.

I’m partial to pansies and petunias and other colorful annuals. They are fun and instantly brighten up my yard. Last weekend I visited a local nursery and forced myself not to buy anything yet. I need to get the flowerbeds ready first.

Yesterday, I mowed my yard for the first time this year. I had a nice crop of henbit to mow, not much bermuda grass. My lawn mower started without much trouble—a miracle in itself after its long winter hiatus. The ground was wet—too wet to do much more than mow and then maybe some raking.

Maybe next Saturday, I’ll get to dig up the beds and buy some plants. I’ll have to be smart about it, not just buy everything that looks pretty. Believe me, I’ve done that before and regretted it. Nothing worse than lugging home twenty odd potted plants that you need to get into the ground right away, then running out of daylight or good weather or energy…or inspiration to get them planted.

Spring is the time for new beginnings, both for gardeners and writers. Besides my gardening ambitions, my co-author and I are starting a new short story and plotting a new mystery.

I need new gardening gloves—and maybe a new keyboard for my computer.

Here’s to Spring!

Evelyn