On garden blogging

The new yellow crocuses are shining in the front yard now.  I need more yellow things in there.  That's nice.  I should make it a goal to have something blooming that's bright yellow all the time.

It got cold and grey yesterday afternoon when I went to take pictures of the garden, so I don't know if the golden yellow crocuses haven't started flowering or if they're just closed against the cold.  

I had a funny experience when I was taking the pictures above.  I popped out my front door and plonked myself down low to take the photos at a good angle and started shooting.  From the side walk, I heard a noise.  I looked over, and there was another woman, about my age, with a big camera, taking photos of the side yard.  We had a good chuckle about the coincidence (I'll confess that I didn't admit that it was actually my yard ... I am shy) and she suggested that I come around because there were some "really good ones" around the side.  When I'd finished with the pictures I wanted, I walked to the side to wish her luck and she pointed out the Joyce irises as being fantastic. 

And of course, she's right.  They are.  

I am happy to have a garden that elicits delight in strangers.  It is one of the great joys of flower gardening.  I'm not quite sure why.  There is something about sharing the pleasure of the flowers that makes it nicer.  It's part of the reason why I rarely cut flowers.  They're wonderful growing things and they're meant to be out there in the world.  I am possessive about them, sure ... don't imagine I don't mind terribly that some of the blooms get removed from their stalks by passers-by.  But part of that possessiveness stems from the fact that once someone has taken a flower, it can't be enjoyed by everyone anymore.  And in truth, a cut flower won't be enjoyed by anyone for very long.  I love looking at my flowers. I love watching them obligingly struggle out of the ground and turn into brightly coloured beauties.  I love the way they bloom and then fade and get replaced by something else.  I can't look at them all the time, though.  I spend most of my days at work and some of my weeks far afield.  It is a cheering thought that all of that loveliness isn't wasted just because I'm not nearby.  

I'm very glad I met that woman, because it made me think a little bit more about why I garden and what I think I might be getting out of it.  I can't think of what else I do that is akin to it.  I garden mostly anonymously, to provide a scenic backdrop, mostly to strangers.  I won't pretend that it's an altruistic activity, but it's possibly the most altruistic thing I do for pleasure.