Winter gardening is an odd thing. Most of my friends out there in plant land lament the winter and eagerly await the return to warmer weather. We do however celebrate every microscopic bloom, every little leaf that comes along this season. It's as though we appreciate what we get just a little more.
In spring the most marvelous flowers are often taken for granted, but in the winter my loquat blooms and tea olives are front and center with Arum italicum and its ilk. I photograph them ad nauseam and ogle at their peculiarness.
During the warmer parts of the winter, we have our Camellias (which are little more than silent or mush factories in January here in the middle South) and hellebores, crocus and narcissus, but late December and January are truly quiet and every peep is absolutely thrilling.
So I guess as much as I hate it, the winter is exciting in a way. I have great anticipation for the silent plants that await me in Spring (especially newly planted ones). Every jasmine flower is a celebration of yellow in a sea of dormant Bermuda grass.
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