Worth the Wait

Rocky Mountain Columbine is normally true blue.
My alkaline soil turns the flowers a purplish-blue.

They say patience is a virtue. I really wouldn’t know. My mind is often spinning in a dozen different directions. Who's got the time to worry about that?

Some folks might consider this pretty Columbine a 'weed,'
since she prefers to grow in the crack in my sidewalk.

I've never really minded all my nervous energy. It inspires all kinds of I’m gonna do this! I’m gonna do that! exciting ideas. 

Thanks to this nervous energy, I actually follow through. 

This wild Columbine planted herself in my gardens.

 “You have the patience of a flea.” So sayeth my gone but not forgotten supervisor during my last corporate performance review.

In this world, there are doers and talkers. He dearly loved to talk but he never really got around to doing much of anything.

This Poppy is another volunteer. She just showed up, one day, and said: I like it here!

I quit after my supervisor insulted me by calling me a flea. Hummingbirds are 'impatient.' Couldn't you have used that as an example?

I quit. Started my own company. Stole his biggest account. But… not…. intentionally. 

Had barely figured what to call this company I decided to start, when my old boss’s biggest client called me asking if I was in business. 

Um. Yes. I proudly claimed. Lied. Wondering how quickly I could purchase a desk, and a new laptop and possibly hire someone to upgrade the wireless. 

Great, she says. We have so many projects and none of them are getting done fast enough. We’d like to hire you to make this happen. 

This Snowball shrub was an impulse purchase. 
We had 38 feel of snow last winter, nobody needs to see any more white.

Here’s the irrefutable truth about impatient people. We get shit done. 

Like this morning. When I stepped outside at dawn and played in the gardens for six blissful hours. Couldn't believe I was out there that long. The time just flew by. 

And yes. I freely admit. I've experienced many exasperated, impatient, moments when I stood in front of my flowers and irrationally screamed: Grow dammit! 

Brunnera is a shade lover. Tiny blossoms about 1/4 inch diameter.

But now that the gardens are fully grown, I step back, calm down, and think to myself: The waiting was the only hard part. 

Sort of looks like a Brunnera (upper photo) doesn't it?
It's actually a wildflower that enjoys full sun in my backyard. Not sure the name.

Thinking about patience and people because I said my final goodbye, last Tuesday, to my last freelance client. 

I resigned all my freelance accounts last year. Time to retire. These people move very slowly. Six months later, we had a lovely goodbye; he was always my favorite - I worked with him for 20 years. And I think that’s because I always believed at some point he might change. Even though it's a well-documented fact that people never change.

Wild Iris

During our last conversation he said: “We will be [insert title of project that will never happen here] and it’s too bad you can’t be part of that.” 

But… but… I was part of that! At least I tried to be! When I recommended that you do that. Three years ago.

Impatient people get a bad rap. [I'm mostly just saying that because I am one.] 

Anxious to do whatever it is that needs doing… we often make other people feel lazy. And sometimes crazy. Because we keep asking: Have you done that yet?? What are you waiting for??

I can tell you what I've been waiting for. For a very long time. A simple summer day. And it's finally here. 

Summer arrives very slowly - at this elevation, in the mountains. But it is always worth the wait.

Let's Take a Walk

Pear Trees

Spring has finally arrived in the mountains. Not completely, the furnace is still on. And those April showers - that can't seem to figure out it's June, now, - are still foiling our plans to truly take a walk...

But it is most definitely springtime. My trees told me so.

Spring - it is such a lovely time of the year. I often wonder why we make our resolutions on New Years. When it's cold and snowy and the most creative thing we can come up with is maybe joining a health club or going on a diet. 

They bud pink; they flower blue, I don't know who they are but this Lilac is my favorite.

It's these beautiful Spring days, this rebirth and renewal change of season, that inspires me to pop a bottle of champagne and celebrate. When the gardens begin to bloom once again. And we see how all our flowering friends survived.

Plus. The second the snow melts you're working like a fiend out in those gardens. Who needs a Peloton bike when you've got that going on?

There's a 'super bloom' happening in the horse pasture. Meadow Phlox is so dainty, it's hard to photograph the drifts of petal pink, so here's a close up.

This wildflower might be called a Biscuitroot - not sure. I don't plant wildflowers back there. 

Sable does! 

You're not supposed to pick wildflowers but the horse doesn't know that. She eats the flowers, and later, deposits seeds back into the pasture, creating her own, magnificent, garden.

We have a lot of short-sighted new residents in Park City, now, who complain that horses 'poop' on the trails. But your dog poops on the trails and nothing good ever comes from that. Horses are vegetarians. As are deer and elk and moose. Our stunning wildflower trails do not come from you and your destructive mountain bike. We can thank the vegetarians and the birds for this glorious show. It might be nice if you people would shut up about that.

Okay. Fine. I'll stop complaining about my new neighbors. Let's keep walking through the gardens...

Golden Currants attract tons of songbirds. Makes a wonderful chutney.

No animals are attracted to Cushion Spurge, [which is kind of why I plant it!] These happy yellow blossoms are some of the first flowers to bloom every spring.

The Bridal Veil is just getting started.

The Newport Plum is almost done.

High winds are making short work of the Crabby Apple trees. It's sort of 'snowing' white petals this afternoon.

Perhaps my insanely alkaline soil is the reason my dark purple Allium has evolved into precious pink beauties.

Bleeding Hearts have no business blooming this early but who am I to complain? 

Did you know Bleeding Hearts can handle -40(F) degrees? Zone 3. I'm zone 6 - they're very happy we don't live in Alaska. 

The scent of various Lilacs waft through the open window. That lovely fragrance is really the only saving grace with these daily afternoon rains. I mean. If you have to rain every day. Couldn't you do that at night while we're sleeping?

Anyhoo. That's what's blooming in my neck of the woods. Now isn't this 'walking exercise' a whole lot more fun than a treadmill at the gym? No need to thank me. 😊