Garden in Spring

Today I put the indoor plants out in the sun and the wind and let them drink in a little bit of freedom.  The red salvia has a bud, and one of the cosmos has already opened one maroon bloom.  Plants are ready to get this party started.  The tomatoes are looking solid, and the peppers are short and lush.  The soil is still far too cold for them, but we are nearing the day of--probably-outdated--Chicago's last average frost.  

Things I love in the garden right now:

The mysterious plant pushing up through the patio pavers.

It isn't Japanese knotweed since the stems aren't hollow, and it oozes white, milky sap when broken.  It is admirable in its tenacity, looking at the stems I can tell I've cut this plant down multiple times in the past and it just keeps forcing its way towards light.

The tallest hops vines were knee height when I got home, now they're well above the tops of those posts and reaching for the roofline.  If I put my ear up close to their tips I bet I could hear them yelling "Go, go, go!" to each other.

Why have lawn when you can have mulch?  (The grass dies as soon as the maple tree starts casting shade, so why not start from scratch?  I wish I had some big smooth river rocks for this front yard.  Maybe one day).

Native geranium, prairie columbine, Virginia bluebells.

In my herb patch sorrel, rue, sage, and mint are all returning.  I've tethered the gooseberry brambles to the fence to keep their sharp little claws away from where I will be picking and planting.  They are covered in flowers for the first time ever, so maybe in a few months I'll have enough gooseberries to garnish a mini Pavlova.

Flower buds are on the peonies. Every bare patch of earth is ripe with possibility.  Funny little fronds of volunteer flowers are scattered all over, identities questionable, weediness TBD.  Within the first week I was home, flowers shook loose from the weeping cherry to reveal place golden leaves that have since turned fat and rich dark green.  I have wanted to take bites out of each luscious familiar harbinger of spring.  The puffy magnolia buds about ready to burst open.  Common yellow dandelion heads (the kid in a stroller who I saw clutching dandelions in both hands clearly had the right idea).  The heady grass, the glorious catkins and ruffles the trees are dropping.  Spring is a heady thing.  And here I an, enjoying stolen valor as I get to enjoy a spring I didn't even have to slog through winter to get to.

And inevitably, because I put the plants out to soak up the sun by the time I brought them in the night air was chill, "feels like 41" said the weather app, and I regretted bare ears and ankles on my evening walk.  Flighty, this spring thing, I'd best enjoy it while I can.