The Colors of Spring

All of the cold rain last month finally gave way to something lovely . . .

The cascading flowers of this Pieris Katsura are like Elton John's tiny dancer, ballerinas in the palm of my hand.

What of the Magnolia stellata, or the star magnolia?  Budding out from pussy willow spikes, these spectacular flowers haunt the early spring light.  They're pretty in pink.

Hellebores plants hide their flowers well, though not well enough.  They tilt their faces down, but you can still see their freckles and fingers teasing shyly.  Beguiling queens.

Yellow defines spring, and daffodils, like ladies-in-waiting, bloom everywhere--happy and willing to delight.  As A. A. Milne wrote, "She turned to the sunlight and shook her yellow head, and whispered to her neighbor.  Winter is dead."

O forsythia, forsythia, wherefore art thou, forsythia?  Deny thy father and refuse thy name, but we will admire you just the same.

Finally, from Sesame Street, "One of these things is not like the others/One of these things just doesn't belong/Can you tell which thing is not like the others/By the time I finish my song?"  (Hint: the not-so-subtle color)

It wouldn't be a garden, though, if something didn't belong, something nonetheless quite beautiful.