garden Archives - Carol Goodman Kaufman

My kitchen table sits next to a big bay window that looks out onto my backyard. I love to sip my morning coffee gazing out at the expanse of green surrounded by all manner of trees and shrubs. Crab apple, wisteria, potentilla, hydrangea, spirea, climbing roses. Their vivid colors against the lush greens fill my mornings with cheer. Isn’t it great to be alive? And, isn’t it amazing how many shades of green there are?

As the frigid cold descends upon Central Massachusetts, thank goodness for the evergreens. Rhododendrum, azalea, spruce, and arbor vitae provide a warming counterpoint to the bare gray branches that make shiver. Even when it snows, the branches of these backyard stalwarts provide a sculptural framework for sparkling white frosting.

Round about January I start to fantasize about palm trees. Tall and gangly, with a Dr. Seuss-like mop of foliage on their heads, they sway in balmy tropical breezes in time to the rhythm of steel drums while I lounge in a hot sun drinking fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them.

But I am not in the tropics. I am in New England. So, I sit with baited breath awaiting the arrival of the postman. In his bag should be the annual onslaught of seed catalogues. These books filled with fruits, berries, vegetables, and flowers entice me and, even though I know that my plans are bigger than my acreage, I devour their pages with hungry eyes. Vibrant reds, sunny yellows, rich purples – they compete for my attention. And I want them all.

Astronomical spring will be here in about 59 days, and perhaps the path to the backyard will be clear enough to be able to plant some peas, even if I have to start them in the cold frame. In the meantime, I am poised like a Pavlovian dog waiting for the postman to ring twice and set me to salivating.

The first few years after we moved into our house, I would develop a strange craving every spring for cottage cheese that coincided with the first mowing of the lawn. It took a while for me to realize that it was the chives growing outside that I was smelling.

Somebody living in our home decades ago must have had the great idea that a pot of chives would be a fine addition to the garden. Unfortunately, the darn things propagate like rabbits, so every spring I spend an inordinate amount of time removing them.

Which brings me to why I was out in the backyard last Sunday. Preparing the vegetable garden bed for planting requires pulling not just weeds, but the thousands of chives.

While engaged in the solitary task, a beautiful birdcall caught my attention. “Chhirr, chiirrr, ba da, ba da, ba da” (at least that’s as close as I can come to translating bird). I looked around, trying to find the source of the song. And there it was. Perched on a branch of the tree on the other side of the garden wall was a magnificent crimson cardinal. What made it so special is that the Bradford Pear was in full spring bloom, its snowy white blossoms standing in stark contrast to the bird’s vibrant coloring.

Most photographs of cardinals that I see feature snow covered pine boughs, and are usually associated with Christmas cards. It was refreshing to see this bright representative of spring, especially after the long and arduous winter we had just endured. (Worcester earned the dubious distinction of being the snowiest city in the U.S. this winter.) Blue skies, green foliage, and flowers and birds of every hue are most welcome.

This year’s resolution: Must get outside more to enjoy both the warming weather and the therapeutic benefits of gardening.

The Wish Book

Finally, Spring!