4/30/10 - It is the last day of the month in a year that brought us one of the mildest April’s on record with this delicious sense that cold, ugly days are history. Then come the dire “scattered frost” warnings and reality sets in: this is Michigan after all and traditionally Memorial Day is the beginning of the safe planting season. The asparagus plants that come up from last year’s roots don’t know that and despite giving us an early taste, the next night some heads froze and drooped. We pitched straw over the patch but then were lured into removing it by a string of warm days.
Early each morning, I stir with the sounds of “smudge pots” in nearby orchards, an attempt by the growers to save the delicate blooms programmed to become apples and cherries. Their stakes are much higher than mine. We sense that our climate is changing but our history in this place only goes back ten years. Only when the meteorologist announces a record breaker of heat or cold do we get some sense that change, though piecemeal, is real.
When spring unfolds gradually rather than in fits and starts, daily observers like me see the progression of plants as they push up through the thatch of last year’s dead grasses. Lupine is one the earliest in the field, almost begging to be noticed, not for flowers but for foliage. The slightly darker green leaves form a mound that is easy to spot from a distance. Looking more closely, one sees the unmistakable 7-9 pointed palmate leaves. I began looking for it early in April because during last year’s burn I made quite a fuss about saving one plant from the flames.
When spring unfolds gradually rather than in fits and starts, daily observers like me see the progression of plants as they push up through the thatch of last year’s dead grasses. Lupine is one the earliest in the field, almost begging to be noticed, not for flowers but for foliage. The slightly darker green leaves form a mound that is easy to spot from a distance. Looking more closely, one sees the unmistakable 7-9 pointed palmate leaves. I began looking for it early in April because during last year’s burn I made quite a fuss about saving one plant from the flames.
Since we are not burning this year, I have no such fears, but spotted them early in that familiar place. “I wonder how they propagate?” I asked Fritz one morning. Together we began looking for the lupine “children” nearby. Sure enough there was one still hiding beneath the thick straw. Now we see some in familiar places but many more on the ridge and along the path. I still don’t know much about propagation but am heartened to know that this queen of the field will show her lovely purples and pinks in many places this season.
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