Spring Time in the Rockies

Before we moved to Colorado I was a gardener. The best day for me was a day spent in the yard weeding, pruning, digging, watering, trimming, harvesting herbs and vegetables, picking bouquets, even hauling rock and spreading manure made me happy. I did all my reading, paper work and phone calls from the back porch, surrounded by the plants I loved.

When we moved to Colorado I told myself that I would show all those who said "you can't garden in colorado". I would show them that I could garden and garden well. In spite of the high altitude, poor soil, scorching sun, short growing season, tornado force winds, droughts and floods, rabbits, and plant-shredding hail storms (it sounds like I am exaggerating and sometimes I exaggerate [okay - maybe I exaggerate often] but I am not exaggerating and if I had started this blog last year there would have been a post on the weather everyday - the weather here is out of control), I could build a garden that would make people admire and adore me.

So last year I gardened and amended the soil and poured blood sweat and tears into that earth. This is my reward:The only daffodil in my yard. April 3 snow fall.

I planted 200 daffodils and 200 crocus. Only about 1/2 of the flowers have come up and very few of them have actually bloomed.

But this will not stop the fearless gardener - make her stop for a reality check - but not stop her dead in her tracks.

For those of you who live in Boise - don't even complain to me about anything. You have it so darn easy. really.