It pays to procrastinate every now and again. If I had planted the amaryllis in the fall as I usually do, I would not be enjoying the wonderful display of blooms that I’ve had this past month. The flowers would have been a distant memory by now. And while some exotic beauty in December is always welcome, it isn’t quite as nourishing to the soul as it is during these dying winter months. At least that certainly holds true where I live.
Winter has an endless quality here. Every morning, it seems, we’re greeted with yet another dusting of snow. We console ourselves by commenting regularly on how the days are getting longer, the sun is much warmer and surely the worst of the cold is over. To live on the prairies means having an ever-ending supply of optimism. You couldn’t survive here otherwise.
These days I sense an increasing restlessness to be back working in the garden. I want to feel the sun on my arms and I am so ready to shed all this heavy winter clothing. I am longing to see spring flowers poking through the snow instead of the unending white … and yellow snow, courtesy of our big, brown dog.
Today I donned my straw hat, sat down at my paint table and attempted to capture the refined beauty of the amaryllis. My efforts so far have resulted mostly in some vibrant-coloured smudges. And perhaps that is just as satisfying since the splendour of the amaryllis will always stay in my mind’s eye.