I finally heard it - maybe you have too?

I thought I'd become immune.

I thought I'd gotten

 too hardened,

 frustrated to the point of no return.

But I kept being called out, drawn into the garden spaces.

I pretended to see if I needed to trim something a bit...

but then I'd stop to admire while acknowledging nothing needed trimming.

As I ventured out in my garden beds, I began hearing something.  At first it was barely audible.

But it happened again...and again.

A little snatch of tune...a snippet of melody...just the notes at first.  Until finally...the words became

just 

clear 

enough...to catch.  I had to actively listen, to hear.

To finally admit and understand.

It was only, ever, going to be a matter of time.

Because when it comes to the great awakening of garden and gardener alike? We silly humans may swear we are done, that this gardening thing, it is all over. We can say we have washed our hands and walked away forever.

But the garden, deep in her heart, she simply knows better.

Time, as always, is on her side.

Sings my garden:

Time is on my side, yes it is

Time is on my side, yes it is

Now you all would say, that you wanna be free

But you'll come running back (Like I said you would, baby)

You'll come running back (Like I told ya so many times before)

You'll come running back to me, yeah

You're searchin' for good times, but just wait and see.

You'll come running back (I said you would, darlin')

You'll come running back 

You'll come running back to me

Go ahead, baby, go ahead. Go ahead and light up the town.

Baby, do anything your heart desires remember, I'll always be around

I know, I know like I told ya so many times before

You're gonna come back, yeah you're gonna come back, baby 

'Cause I got the real love the kind that you need

You'll come running back (I knew you would one day)

You'll come running back (Like I told you before)

You'll come running back to me, yeah

Via Wikipedia: "Time Is on My Side" is a song written by Jerry Ragovoy (under the pseudonym of Norman Meade). First recorded by jazz trombonist Kai Winding and his Orchestra in 1963, it was covered (with additional lyrics by Jimmy Norman) by both soul singer Irma Thomas and the Rolling Stones in 1964.
 

Forget Bambi - what does Faline do?

What do our local White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus texanus) do when night falls, the temperatures drop, and it begins to rain?  Though I rarely see bucks once the rut is over, the female members of the herd are routinely seen hunkered down in a favored spot to wait out daylight and hopefully, warmer temperatures.  (I call this herd "local" because the vast majority of their browsing grounds are contained within though not confined by the geopolitical boundaries of our subdivision.)

One doe in particular seems to have developed a fondness for a patch of ground cover in the unfenced area out front.  I've spotted her there repeatedly, and over the years she has occasionally left fawns there to hide while she was out foraging.

So it was no surprise very early this morning when I noted the motion activated driveway light flipping on periodically, it was because of her.

Is THIS why we call them garden "beds"?

The doe (probably pregnant) stayed quietly in place while the skies lightened, street traffic picked up, and eventually left only after my daughter took her car (parked very close nearby) to leave for morning classes.

Ambient temperatures aside, this bed is sheltered by mature live oak trees overhead and cushioned by a collection of spring-fueled freshly regrown groundcovers underneath.  As outdoor accommodations go, it is not only downright comfy, but the decor is very tasteful.  In every sense of that word.

Is it any wonder the plants out front are nibbled on with regularity?  As far as this doe and her herd are concerned, our front yard is the white-tail equivalent of a three star hotel offering an ongoing "all you can eat" banquet.  

I splash a lot of virtual ink here angrily gritching and moaning about white-tail deer eating, stomping on, and antlering my plants. This time of year, I have a much harder time getting similarly worked up.  At the moment I feel we can all focus on surviving winter first, and once the weather warms for good then we'll see where that finds us.

As you were, little mamas-to-be, as you were.  Carry on and keep warm.

Wait, what month is it again?

February.  It is February.  I had to remind myself of that fact several times over the past few days.

February in Central Texas is not particularly brutal. Often following on the heels of a hard freeze or two in January, February typically provides a fair number of days featuring cold but not freezing weather, in combination with rain.  Cooler days and moist soil make winter work in the garden comparatively pleasant.

Especially for me.  I am an inveterate transplanter.  For my purposes, I need every single typical day February can provide, in order to tackle everything I hope to get done before live oak trees begin their annual pollen assault.

 
I consider transplanting a locational "do-over", a second (or third) chance to get things right.  Some of my favorite plants achieved that designation based upon little more than their repetitive tolerance of my moving them around. It's funny. Once a plant has demonstrated to my satisfaction it will survive a move, I almost always find a reason to move it.

Like the ox-eye daisy mounds shown at the base of the winter bare althea in the photo to follow. They were very recently shifted.  I'm trying out new companion plantings here to provide more year round interest in this bed. The sunny area vacated by the daisy mounds is slated to host native milkweed.

It is a win/win scenario.  Though the success rate of native milkweed seed germination under my care is still in question, the daisy mound moves ought to be a slam dunk. This is February rather than August, so survival ought to be guaranteed.  Right?

Maybe.  This February just refuses to play by the rules.  The past span of days brought sufficient sun and warmth in combination I felt I had to halt rearranging in favor of hauling watering cans.  Walking to and from our rain barrels, I shed layer after layer of clothing as the day and I both heated up.

Relocated wildflowers.  Hang in there babies!

As the weather plays "Guess What Season It Is!?" I'm not the only confused one. Some plants seem to be struggling with how to respond to non-wintery sun warmed soils and bright hot afternoons.  Several bluebonnet rosettes sent up early bloom stalks this year, and at certain times of day, one of them looks practically purple.  

This bluebonnet is definitely blooming to the beat of a different color palette. I'm smitten!

If this plant persists in sending up purplish bloom stalks, I will hold the seed aside and see if the deeper coloring is expressed consistently.  In the meantime, I am throughly enjoying this early start on wildflower season even as I keep an eye out for the colder weather predicted to be heading our way.

Me! Wanting more cold, more grey!  Unprecedented.

Honestly I am only wanting February to be more, well, February-ish.  Hot and dry can wait.  And it ought to! Please?