A bank of primroses can look almost uniform from the path: low wrinkled leaves, pale yellow flowers, and a scatter of gold across the last brown leaves of winter. Kneel down, however, and look into the flowers. Some have a small green button at the center. Others have a ring of yellow anthers. The difference is not age, weather, or…
In the soft weather of May, ferns can make a shaded bed look as if it has invented a new kind of spring. One week there is only leaf litter, damp soil, and the brown remains of last year’s stems. Then little green scrolls rise from the crown, tucked inward like the heads of violins, each one holding a whole…
Read more about Why fern fiddleheads unroll instead of unfolding
In late April, a bed of young greens can look perfect at breakfast and peppered by lunch. The arugula leaves are still bright and tender. The mustard seedlings are standing. The radish tops look cheerful. But every leaf has acquired tiny round holes, as if someone spent the morning tapping them with a miniature paper punch. The damage is so…
A good spring radish should feel almost impossible for something so quick: crisp, juicy, sharp enough to wake up a salad, and gone from seed to harvest before slower vegetables have settled into their stride. Then, some years, the first bite is a disappointment. The root looks fine from the outside, but inside it is dry, spongy, woody, or hollow.…
An onion row in March does not look like much to brag about. The plants are thin, blue-green, and a little awkward, each one a narrow tuft set into cold soil. They do not sprawl like squash, gleam like peppers, or make the quick promises of radishes. A young onion looks almost underbuilt for the job ahead. Then summer arrives…
An asparagus bed can look empty in a way that tests a gardener’s memory. In late winter it is just a strip of soil, a little straw, perhaps a few cut stalks from last year if cleanup was delayed. Then a mild spell passes through. You walk by in the morning and see nothing. By evening, a green point has…
Read more about Why asparagus spears seem to appear overnight
A spring shade bed can look as if it has learned to blush and cool at the same time. Lungwort opens with little pink bells, then the older flowers nearby settle into violet and blue. The spotted leaves are pretty enough on their own, but the flowers make the plant look like a small calendar. One cluster can hold yesterday,…
Read more about Why some flowers change color after pollination
April violets have a way of appearing in the parts of a garden where management loosens its grip. They collect under hedges, soften the edge of a path, settle into damp lawn, and rise between last year’s leaves before the taller perennials have fully remembered themselves. From a distance they read as color: small purple flags in the green. Up…
An April magnolia can look almost unreasonable. The grass is still thin, the perennials are barely showing, and the rest of the tree has not bothered with leaves. Then the branches open bowls of pink, cream, purple, or white into the cold air, as if the garden has skipped several pages and landed directly in bloom. That early display is…
In an eastern North American woodland, a mild day in March or April can make the forest floor seem to wake before the trees have heard the news. The canopy is still a gray net overhead. Last year’s leaves are flattened and wet. Then, almost at ankle height, small flowers begin taking possession of the light: bloodroot opening like white…
Read more about The spring flowers that borrow light from bare trees
