It's Wick!

Well, we have gone from winter to spring in a few short days. Piles of snow as high as my head have melted away so quickly, that it's a little disorienting to walk Molly around the neighborhood. I'm simply not used to seeing grass and lawns that are level with the sidewalk! 


I have begun a daily circumnavigation of my house checking for "things coming up", i.e. signs of new growth: the bulbs I planted last fall, perennials coming back, buds on trees. (I am holding my breath that my redbud tree is okay; it was looking sick last year.) When I do this, I am always reminded of one of my favorite books from childhood, The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Mary, a sickly, surly little girl who has up until the time of her parents' death lived in India, moves to her uncle's estate on the English moors. Her uncle is a bitter and broken widower, and his mansion holds secrets: Mary's invalid cousin Colin and a walled garden that was locked up when the mistress of the house died.


Mary is drawn to the garden, and with the help of Dickon -- a local boy -- the children find their way in to it in the very early spring. I love the part where Dickon roams the garden looking for signs of life and pronounces it "wick" -- local dialect for alive. Of course as the garden comes to life, so do Mary, Colin, and Colin's broken-hearted father. It is a lovely and satisfying book.


I have crocuses blooming, tulips, irises and daffodils peeking out of the ground, forsythia buds swelling. It's wick!