Daisy's Primroses

Day 87: I recently discovered an under-appreciated and somewhat obscure collection of miniature overshot patterns in a book called "Weaving Designs" by Bertha Gray Hayes. It is absolutely marvelous! And while the designs may be miniature, they are surprisingly complex. This one is called "Primroses," and the pattern repeats over 34 threads. Likewise, the treadling is a repeat of 34, 68 if you count the green tabby throws between each thread of the purple design. I selected the colours in keeping with the idea of primroses, and if you look very carefully, you will see yellow warp threads interspersed at strategic locations, i.e., at the centers of the design elements. That said, this is the back side of the overshot as it is shown in the book. I don't always read the instructions as carefully as I should, and consequently, I'm treadling it upside-down, having read the tie-up "inside out" (black squares vs. white squares). Nevertheless, it's pretty any way you look at it.

Evidence Of Spring

Day 174: Evidence of the changing season is beginning to show up in the garden, at least between snow showers. Only today, I discovered the volunteer primroses lurking in the moss and the swelling buds of the Red-flowering Currant. While some things seem to be running late (the daffodils are barely budded), the Hellebore is more lush than it's ever been before. What phenologic cues are these plants taking, that some are in a rush to produce as many flowers as possible while others seem to be husbanding their strength? What do they know that we do not? Humans have become so divorced from Nature that our bodies no longer follow the map of the seasons, so separated from the rising and setting of the sun that we complain when compelled to change our clocks to another designation which, after all, is a purely artificial construct in the first place. We have, as a species, moved a long way into an imaginary world. We could do with a lesson from the flowers in how to judge when the time is right.

Spring Has Sprung!

Day 163: There are many variations on the poem, but I learned it as follows:

Spring has sprung,
The grass is riz,
I wonder where
The daisies is?

I don't know that you could stretch the definition of "daisy" far enough to encompass primroses, and the word's reach certainly does not extend to forsythia nor to rhubarb, so let's just say that the first colours are out, giving us a foretaste of what is to come. The gardening bug has bit me, and the number of seed flats and pots in my east window is growing almost daily, with marks on the calendar for the optimum planting dates for a variety of flower and vegetable seeds. Some species are ones I've never grown before like Mexican Sour Gherkins, one-inch cucumbers which resemble tiny watermelons and can be enjoyed straight off the vine. Others are my old stand-bys: Gazanias, marigolds, Calendula, cosmos. Not a square inch of prepared bed will be wasted, but neither will I plant according to a plan. I like the look of what I call a "scatter garden," plants and seeds stuck willy-nilly wherever space allows, to be a floral crazy-quilt at the peak of the flowering season. I do try to keep the border low and the back high, but there are always a few strays and volunteers with other ideas, particularly the sunflowers planted by my little avian friends for their personal harvest. Bring your paint pots and brushes, Summer! My garden is a canvas for your most expressionistic art.