My daphne is beginning to bloom.
Why did I wait so long to plant one of these? Actually, I know why: I was afraid of failure. I have read of people planting these enchanting shrubs, falling utterly in love with them, and then after several years the daphne dies, without warning, throwing the gardener into heartbroken despair. There’s enough grim business in the world without adding to the mix with fussy plants.
But my neighbor has one that scents up my entire yard with its heavenly, lemon-scented blooms. Stepping out the front door, I receive an olfactory gift of hope. To smell one is to want one; it is that straightforward.
Last year I took the plunge and bought a quart-sized ‘Carol Mackie.’ I was lucky in that we had decent rain here, while the rest of the country suffered terrible drought. I am cautiously hopeful that I have sited it well and nurtured it adequately with generous helpings of worm compost tea. In about a week, I intend to spend a little time in meditation, right next to Carol, and relish her when she is in full bloom.