Archive for April, 2011

Spring in New England

April 21, 2011

Spring in New England does a box step: one step forward – a sunny day with daffodils blooming, a couple of slides – rainy, gray, drizzly weather, a step back – windy, nippy chilly, gray days. And then the cycle repeats. I am in the middle of a 3 week stint in Massachusetts, at Mr. GG’s childhood home. I have never spent much time here, so it is a revelation. New England is gorgeous. 2 lane roads lined with pines, and hardword trees coming into bud, low stone walls, towns strung like beads between winding roads bordered by timbered tracts of wetland. Mr. GG grew up in a green house with a bright yellow door. It overlooks a hill with wildflowers, brush, and plenty of places to hide, build tree houses, play pirates, and explore. There used to be a pond at the bottom of the hill, but now there are a couple of McMansions taking up space there. There is still a zipline in the trees behind the house, and I may try it out when I go down to look for the Mayapples and Jack-in-the -pulpit that grow in the lower end of the lot.

The town is full of history, and Mr. GG’s street is named for the Indian who sold the area to settlers in the 1630s. Everything is old here. The town library is built around the original octagonal building, the cemeteries are full of canted, flat tombstones with barely legible names, and the highway through town is still called the Boston Post road.

Being away from Utah in the spring is hard, but Mr. GG calls me with reports on my bulbs. Hyacinths and daffodils are blooming, the Hellebores are gorgeous, the grape hyacinth is showing a bit of color, but Valerie Finnis is not blooming yet. Valerie Finnis is the name of my favorite sky blue, late-blooming, grape hyacinth, and my family knows her well, because I go into raptures when she starts blooming, and make everyone look at her puddles of celestial blue. Any house I ever live in will have Valerie Finnis in the yard. Mr GG. also describe a purple bud with leaves like celery in one of the beds, and we finally figured out it is an anemone. That’s the kind of domestic chitchat we indulge in when we are apart. What flowers are blooming, how the cats are doing (grumpy), which governmental dragons he slew that day, and that we miss each other.

Life is pretty good. Spring, whenever and wherever it comes is very welcome.

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