Spring Comes to Ginestas
- Richard Carden
- Mar 20, 2021
- 3 min read
Fair warning - if flowers aren't your thing, this post is not for you.
Ironically, I am writing this post on the coldest day we have had in the last month. Nonetheless, spring has arrived in all its glory, although the old saw about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb has proved true. Well, at least the lion part. We're in the midst of more than a week of pretty stiff winds. I have always heard about the mistral in France and how it can actually drive people crazy. I don't think we are actually in a mistral, but it is easy to see how days on end of sustained wind can put your teeth on edge. And while I really can't complain too much about the temperature here when I see pictures of snow back in Chicagoland, it was zero here last night (Celsius, of course...)
A few weeks ago, the almond trees were the first to blossom. It was heavenly walking down the streets and smelling the heady perfume of honey as I passed the trees. And the slight blush of pink started to bring the landscape back to life after months of brown. Sadly, the blossoms were shortly followed by rain and wind, and as soon as they had come, they drifted away on the spring breeze.
But spring was not to be denied! Soon the irises began to push green shoots up through the ground. It wasn't long before they also reached full bloom, adding Monet-esque dots of purple along the roads and paths.
I have never been very good at knowing which plants are which, so I downloaded the PictureThis plant identification app, and I use it frequently when I am out. I trust that it is accurate, but if you see a plant misidentified, just drop a comment. One of the first plants I ever used it for is one I have called the "Dr. Seuss" plant, because every time I see it I can't help but think of his fantastical creations. It is actually Euphorbia chacias (Mediterranean spurge), or euphorbe des garrigues (garrigue is the name for the grasslands around us here in Southern France). And euphorbia is the plant family that includes poinsettias. Frankly, I think Dr. Seuss plant is a much more apt and complimentary name.
About two weeks ago, the bees began their work. There are quite a few species of bees here, and they are on my list to learn. Some feel larger than the flowers whose pollen they are harvesting. We have one tree with a hive inside it that sits alongside one of the roads where I often walk the dogs, and they are now making that part of our stroll interesting, especially when the wind blows the entire swarm towards us!
In the past week or so, there has been an absolute explosion of color. Purples and pinks from irises, Japanese camelia, common hyacinth (Hyacinthus orientalis), Chilean sea fig (Carpobrotus chilensis), germandrée arbustive (Teucrium fruticans), grey-leaved cistus (Cistus albidus or Ciste cotonneux) and hardy iceplant (Délosperme rose or Délosperme cooperi); yellow from Japanese jasmine (Jasmin primivère) and coronille des jardins (Hippocrepis emerus or scoprion sienna); orange from pot marigold (Calendula officinalis or Souci officinal); white from viburnum, spring starflower (Ipheion uniflorum), calla lily and white garlic (Allium neapolitanum); red from baby sage (Salvia microphylla or sauge de graham). There seems to be something new popping up every day.
Our rosemary has been flowering like crazy on the terrace. I've put together pots of sage, chives, spring onions, sorrel, thyme and strawberries and have started tarragon, basil, chervil and cornichons from seeds. And I've got a little magazine primer on which plants grow in which seasons here. Most importantly, we're heading into wild asparagus season!
We're reaching one of my favorite parts of spring, as my wisteria is beginning to bud. I have loved wisteria ever since seeing Tiffany windows featuring it at the Morse Museum in Winter Park, Florida when I was a teenager. It's one of the things I truly miss about the house in Chicago - when the wisteria blooms all over the pergola.
Soon it will be time to start watching all the grapevines bud. With some luck this year, hopefully, I will be able to participate in the vendange (harvest) in the fall. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy the burgeoning spring, keep my fingers crossed that we can reopen the bar soon and folks can travel again, and thank my lucky stars I'm not back in the frozen tundra of Chicago!
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