Yellow. There’s yellow everywhere right now. It’s glorious.
The daffodils are still going strong, and the forsythia has turned into a fuzzy gold haze of hedgerow along the back. The items in the cold frame are still getting along well, and it’s possible that I have an actual celery seedling sprouting. Also, the Siberian squill I planted last fall has actually poked through – the little dots of blue are almost a little jarring, given how everything else is in shades of green and yellow.
The big work today was planting a new fragrant cloud honeysuckle (in front of the porch, so that it can climb up chicken wire wrapped around the porch post); repairing and setting up the rain barrel (with a “Little Lemons” clematis in the planter on top); and spreading wildflower seeds in two patches flanking the barn. I haven’t dealt fully with the rest of the trench, because there’s so much rock and rubble, and I’m not even sure if I can deal with where it sank in. Still, it’s something.
Yellow, to me, is the quintessential color of spring. It’s the color of new life springing up everywhere, and it’s a hint of the riot of color coming in summer (I hope). Even the green of March has a yellowy-limey tinge. There will be many frosts yet, and a decent chance of snow over the next month. Still we’re on the other side of the equinox.
The sun is returning yellow-white in the sky.