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May flowers
May. 14th, 2009 07:52 pmThe May flowers are definitely here. My sensitive canine nose is a-tingle every time I step outdoors or even just go near an open window. Though daffodils are past, honeysuckle is just beginning to fill the air with a perfume so thick it nearly blots out everything. In spite of that, I can smell lilacs just starting to really open, and apple and pear blossoms that are beginning to fade already.
There's a spot along my walking path through the woods where wild cherry blossoms can already be detected, though I can't find them. They really don't open for another week or two, and when they do, there will be nothing but cherry in the air for a few days, followed by a snowstorm of tiny white petals.
Then will come the blackberries. That musky scent that just hints of the rich flavored berries to come will hang around for about a week.
I picked several big flowers off the strawberries today. They are a new planting and aren't supposed to be allowed to bloom until July. I guess the idea is that they should grow more roots and leaves first, but I felt bad pinching off lovely white blossoms an inch in diameter. In one case, there was a whole cluster of buds that might have made six or eight berries, but I aborted it just the same.
Around the third week in June, the catalpas will bloom. Their blossoms are like giant snapdragon clusters, white with yellow throats, and a tropical scent to rival real orchids. It's hard to imagine how something like that evolved in the temperate zone of North America, but they are here and they produce prolific blooms for about a week each year.
Cultivated flowerbeds fit in there, of course. Roses and iris will be blooming in the next few weeks. Both are a little erratic in the scent department though. As they have been hybridized and selected for more unusual colors and larger flowers, the rich scents that belonged to their ancestors have often been lost. Still, an iris that retains its natural scent is a lovely thing as long as you don't get your nose too close. Chances are it has a bumblebee inside. Also, many of them stink like sewer gas if you get too strong a whiff.
Laugh all you like at a wuff who loves flowers, but I'm not ashamed of it at all. A flower garden is a paradise for him who has the nose to appreciate it.
There's a spot along my walking path through the woods where wild cherry blossoms can already be detected, though I can't find them. They really don't open for another week or two, and when they do, there will be nothing but cherry in the air for a few days, followed by a snowstorm of tiny white petals.
Then will come the blackberries. That musky scent that just hints of the rich flavored berries to come will hang around for about a week.
I picked several big flowers off the strawberries today. They are a new planting and aren't supposed to be allowed to bloom until July. I guess the idea is that they should grow more roots and leaves first, but I felt bad pinching off lovely white blossoms an inch in diameter. In one case, there was a whole cluster of buds that might have made six or eight berries, but I aborted it just the same.
Around the third week in June, the catalpas will bloom. Their blossoms are like giant snapdragon clusters, white with yellow throats, and a tropical scent to rival real orchids. It's hard to imagine how something like that evolved in the temperate zone of North America, but they are here and they produce prolific blooms for about a week each year.
Cultivated flowerbeds fit in there, of course. Roses and iris will be blooming in the next few weeks. Both are a little erratic in the scent department though. As they have been hybridized and selected for more unusual colors and larger flowers, the rich scents that belonged to their ancestors have often been lost. Still, an iris that retains its natural scent is a lovely thing as long as you don't get your nose too close. Chances are it has a bumblebee inside. Also, many of them stink like sewer gas if you get too strong a whiff.
Laugh all you like at a wuff who loves flowers, but I'm not ashamed of it at all. A flower garden is a paradise for him who has the nose to appreciate it.
