As I was potting the magic bulbs yesterday--yes, I finally got that done--I thought about how I don't have the necessary gene for gardening neatness. My pots don't look like the ones in magazine pictures--and here I am publishing pictures on my blog--oh dear. This photo, however, tells me nature isn't all that neat, either. Leaves fall, snuggle in where they can. Stalks topple over any old which way. Squirrels drop nuts wherever they feel like it. Tulips don't necessarily come up in the nice circle I think I planted them in (I did try to be neat about that). Some do not come up at all.

Early spring gardens do not look like the ones in magazine photos. They look like just what they are: plants asking to be given a chance. Just as you haven't read a book if you only read the first and last pages, you don't know a plant by just seeing it in early spring and late fall. The tiny, perfect leaves of this Lady's Mantle show us the shape and formation of the future plants. They don't tell us how beautiful the dew drops on the leaves will be in the early summer mornings, or how the airy, yellow flowers will light up bouquets.

Out of spring's chaos, perennials bring their own order. They have their own genetic code, which, amazingly, seems to tolerate mine. Every plant has its own magic.