The gladiolas were telling me it was time to plant, as a few bulbs had little green sprouts emerging from the top. And as I remember right, this was the week that I planted bulbs last year, not long after college graduation.
Planting bulbs is both exciting and worrisome. There's the anticipation of colorful blossoms, but also uncertainty, as the bulbs sit beneath the soil, hidden from view for a few weeks. Will they even sprout? Is the soil loose enough? Are they planted too deep? I ask myself these questions every year, but just have to have faith that they will grow, like they do every year.
It is a greater act of faith to plant a bulb than to plant a tree. ~ Clare Leighton
Asking ourselves a barrage of worried questions isn't productive, especially extreme what-ifs that are unanswerable in the moment. Wouldn't it be nice to have a basic sense of trust that, all in all, things will turn out OK? I'd like to make that a goal for this summer. A new way of thinking to apply to other aspects of life, not just gardening. Choose to believe that things will be OK - not always perfect, but not wretched either. :)
Well, I'm going to take off my philosophizing hat now. The rest of the post is a feature of my favorite gladiolas from last year... enjoy the pretty flowers! And speaking of the joy that flowers can bring, I ran across an interesting blurb from House Beautiful. Apparently, research has suggested that having plants or fresh bouquets inside can decrease pain. Check out the article here.
This more exotic-looking flower above is an Abyssinian gladiolus, also called a sword lily. For a few years, we didn't really know what it was, because it didn't have the same broad ruffly petals of the other gladiolas. We just just figured it was a mutant because we had re-used the bulbs many seasons in a row. :) I thought this blossom looked so lovely bowing under the weight of the raindrops.
Perhaps my best floral arrangement last summer was this one, with an ombre effect from white to pink to red. I used a couple snippets of burgundy foliage from our dogwood bush and some wild daisies to add some interest to the arrangement. There were a couple morning glory tendrils stuck on the daisies, which I decided to leave on for a more whimsical look. (Morning glories are a bane to any gardener's existence, but sometimes we can begrudgingly admit they look nice. Sometimes.)
The deep red gladiola has always been my favorite. There are so many beautiful things in red... roses, berries, lipstick, the soles of Louboutin shoes, garnet, the felt on a piano. Anywho, I thought this particular blossom was a real stunner by itself, so it got its own cut-crystal vase.
I am eagerly awaiting this year's gladiolas. Because they will grow. It's all gonna be OK.
'Til next time,