Our tulips are the last to bloom in Missoula, it seems. They get very little sun, and they are just….late…..bloomers.
They’re really nice when they do, though…
That’s kind of the way spring feels to me. It takes forever for it to arrive… teasing tastes in March and April that give way to a pell-mell headlong rush of rain, rainbows, rushing water, raging wildflowers, ridiculous fests in the park every weekend… and all of a sudden it’s the hot, smoldering August heat, crispy brown hillsides, and we forget we ever had soft green spring. Let alone winter?? A distant memory.
This plant is my favorite. When Josh and I put in the native grasses and rock borders of our boulevard (now the annual weed-infested bane of my existence for the most part) we planted one particular bunchgrass, rescued from a subdision by the Praire Keepers, that had a tag-along flower tucked alongside. That tag-along has now taken over the bunchgrass (It’s HUGE!) and propagated itself to two new locations.
The currant bush, at the right, is doing GREAT. Alden likes to have currants on his birthday cupcake (little critter of habit he is) and we have plenty as a rule. (We freeze some til his December birthday.) The strawberry patch, well, we have hopes that it bears this year. We had bupkus last year.
I know I’ll be wondering in amazement what the hell happened to summer, let alone spring, when October arrives. I’m kind of OK with spring being a late bloomer this year. It sure is nice when it shows up, though.