Hosta grow by the hour. Peony and ligularia conspire toward heaven with their burgundy-hued leaves – both ruffled disks and palmated clusters.
The maple trees lining our neighborhood streets unfurl their leaves seemingly overnight, transforming the city. Everywhere, inhabitants go, “Ahhhhhhhhh.” Evidence of nature’s resilience and capacity for growth is on display and provokes the idiotic but grateful query, “Does this happen every year?! Really?”
Joe Pye weed keeps up with the hosta, and little scilla clumps spring up and out of spiky leaves all over the south side of the house… goat’s weed and white nancy busily filling in everywhere else. It’s just the beginning.
I potted up my basil and tomatoes, and divided some perennials for my sister.
With Newton Open Studios less than a month away, I am in ‘full mess mode’. Sachets, purses, dolls are in progress all over the first floor, and after the initial freedom of taking over the family room, it suddenly feels like too much. I plan to start the week folding and tidying.
Too much to report on lately is the feeling.
I finished hand-quilting a Global Warming Quilt a couple of days ago and am calling it ‘Joplin’.
While stitching this large central spiral, my husband and I were watching Nova. The program showcased the science of tornadoes — their destructive power and unpredictability — while detailing the intensely active year of 2011. It was weird — remember? — to watch the morning news last summer and watch one awful scene of destruction after another. Joplin was one of the hardest hit towns.