I took these pictures and I was happy with them but then I thought, if I had waited until sunset; that could have been very pretty, if the sunset had been one of those dark pink fading to deep red sunset’s, the type that lends itself to poetry “red sky at night, sailor’s delight, red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning”
No matter how many times I see my azalea and my weeping tree come to life, it never gets old. I would be miserable if I would ever to become blaze or jaded, that would be my private defeat. As long as I have the opportunity to open my eyes, I want to greet each day with a sense of wonder and curiosity. Spring time is the perfect season to take advantage and welcome the new and changed world around us.
I think that I am so attached to these two trusty heralds of spring because they have survived all these winters; this past winter killed off the three new azaleas from last year and the two others from three years ago barely made it, they look so pitiful and beat down, it pains me.
I have almost settled on throwing in the towel with azaleas; at first I thought the winter before last was an aberration, but after last winter I am scared that this may be the way of our Northeast winters for good and my azaleas can’t handle that amount of cold brutality. I am thinking that I may end up going with some hardy summer time perennials such as black-eye Susans and some upright Pholx, these two can take a licking and keep on ticking.
But for now, I am holding off doing anything until after Memorial Day, because up here in Blandford, there is no point to planting until after the summer holiday; with New England weather you just never know if you are going to get hit with a freaky frost, even in May.