After a cold, dark winter of gray-brown dormancy, the earth barely breathing, waiting faithfully for renewal and warmth that certainly must come, spring starts slowly; then quickly, it becomes a rushing torrent of life. Brought on by moisture and warmth, the wild exuberance of shoots pushing out from beneath leaf mold, unfolding leaves and birdsong, it is the hallelujah chorus of spring.
I find the coming of spring such a joyous time for the soul. It is rebirth after death, redemption after a trial that has pulled energy from one’s core.
On a day like today, dry and sunny, not a cloud in the sky and the temperature in the low 70s, life seems just about perfect. I walk at least a foot off the ground, treading on air.
And speaking of air, it is so fresh, smelling of earth and newly formed oxygen flowing from the vivid green grass and millions of tiny green leaves that are expanding throughout the land. 
My lawn is a mass of purple and white violets, dotted with golden dandelion suns and naturalized narcissi. Gil-over-the-ground, ajuga, and wild veronica are budded up and starting to bloom in shades of blue-violet. Sprigs of June aster are forming, to come along in the next few weeks.
The gardens are masses of frothy candytuft, daffodils, diminutive iris, bleeding hearts and primroses. 
Fothergilla has started to bloom and is covered with tiny, native pollinators and the Korean spicebush viburnum perfumes the yard with its exotic fragrance. The lilac flower buds are swelling, as are the rhododendron, beauty soon to come.
The hummingbird has returned and visits the quince, spicebush and bleeding hearts. Chipping sparrows are making a nest in the quince and I watch one pecking at ants along the sidewalk. Catbirds, as well as a pair of cardinals, are nesting in the hemlock hedge and eastern phoebes have set up housekeeping in the wood shed.
In the woods, hairy woodpeckers drum on dead wood, telegraphing their territory throughout the forest. Ovenbirds, titmice and chestnut-sided warblers call to establish the same end. We still have a bird feeder strung high in an oak tree, which brings in chickadees and a multitude of goldfinches, whose mewling calls fill the air.
Cardinals and mourning doves flutter in to feed on the ground below the feeder, while the male doves persistently coo in the branches above. Any perceived danger is escaped with an explosion of wings.
I take it all in as I move about the yard, gardening, hanging laundry or sitting on the deck. I feel grateful to witness this exuberance of life that living in the country affords, such a blessing it is.
A simple vase of lilacs this week needs no further introduction. Its fragrance is sublime!
Thanks to Cathy at 
My plantings of lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis) around the yard have grown large enough that I am able enjoy great handfuls of these highly-perfumed, graceful bells in vases inside the house. Truly a heaven-sent scent! As I sit typing, this vase is next to me and I find myself breathing deeply – pleasure at every inhalation!
While these native violets that 
For my vase, I’ve used a heavy, cut-crystal one that I’ve had for ages and cannot remember where I got it. It is a good size, so it gets used quite often.
I thought that my Lenox porcelain ‘Daffodil’ vase would be nice to hold white daffodils and a few other white flowers currently in my garden for a soft, romantic look. Which led me to remember that this is wedding season.
The jacquard print tablecloth is French linen brought back as gift from a friend who visited France many years ago.
I believe the double daffodil cultivar, left, is Narcissus ‘White Marvel.’ The other two in the above photo are N. ‘Pueblo’ on the left and N. triandrus ‘Thalia’ on the right.
The bottlebrush blooms of Fothergilla gardenii are sweetly scented, as are N. ‘Thalia,’ adding to the romance.
I’ve used frothy-white candytuft (Iberis sempervirens) as a filler flower along with false bleeding heart (Corydalis ophiocarpa) with its lacy foliage and zipper-like racemes. I love the silvery, glaucous foliage of this plant, but it is a rampant self-sower, so I have learned to limit it to the periphery of the garden.
After a week of gray skies and rain, this week’s arrangement brightens the room thanks to the large-cupped daffodil, Narcissus ‘Salome.’ 
It opens a pale, peachy-yellow and soon deepens to salmon.
A few branches from our flowering quince hedge (Chaenomeles speciosa), with its deep coral blossoms, add more color.
A double, pale-yellow tulip with peach tinges (sorry, I don’t know the cultivar since it was planted years ago) showed up in the garden and since the rain caused it to bend over, I snipped it to add to the bouquet. Lastly, I added white, lacy candytuft (Iberis sempervirens) for filler.
The sweet vase of a girl with a parasol is Royal Doulton (art from a 1920s children’s book illustrator) and a gift from my sister long ago.
Here’s to the mothers, step-moms and nurturers in our lives – thank you for all you do and Happy Mother’s Day!
