I can grow a rainbow

Across much of winter and spring the garden can be almost monochromatic, or bi-chromatic – is that how you say it?  Maybe its duo-chromatic?  Either way,  winter is a sea of brown bare earth with hints of green as bold weeds try to break through the chilly soil.  Spring on the other hand is bursting with life, with abundant greenery overcoming the rich brown earth.  The garden is clothed in green in more shades that you would think possible.  And it is a fresh green – almost luminescent as the seedlings grow vigorously and take their place in the garden.   You can almost catch the enthusiasm of all this rampant growth.

By late spring, the green tones settle down, to a duller less vibrant green as the growth slows and the plants reach their desired size and switch to fruit production.  The lower leaves near the bottom of the plants that had been there from the beginning, from those exciting days when each new leaf as it unfurled was intimately known – have become so bedraggled it is best to just remove them.  They have done their job and done it well.  The plant will grow on without them.

Early summer brings a radiance that isn’t there in spring.  The sun shines brighter and longer.  In the midday sun the glare is almost too much, as is the heat. The brights are brighter than ever before.  But in the still of the first light and the lingering glow of sunset the garden takes on an almost ethereal demeanour.   Whenever you find yourself in the garden, be it morning, noon, late afternoon or just on twilight, the garden feels vibrant and you can’t help but feel alive in it’s presence.

The white of pea flowers

The grey of unripe blueberries

The blue of a summer sky

The purple of the new growth on the eggplant

The red of berries

The pink silks on the popcorn

The brown of the salad leaves

Even the orange of rust has a vibrancy

The yellow of golden zucchini

But early summer begins to reveal something else.  As the fruit begins to make their presence felt, they reveal the beauty of their colours.   After all of that green, the colours seem larger than life and crisp and fresh.  Yellows so deep and reds so rich.   The food almost looks too good to eat.  Everyday I marvel at the wonder of the garden.  It isn’t new to me, but I’m still blown away at the wonder of it all.  Each plant is so different and beautiful.  Gardening isn’t an activity – it’s an experience.

Come again soon – I have so many plans and projects for this season I hardly know when to start.  I love summer.

Sarah the Gardener  : o)