Elizabeth Lawrence on Spring: A Gardener’s Eternal Source of Wonder and Renewal
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
March 8, 1970
Dearest reader,
On this day, Elizabeth Lawrence, a gardener and writer of keen observation and tender wit, reflected thoughtfully on the ever-renewing enchantment of spring.
She wondered aloud at a peculiar question posed to her:
“This spring, I was asked if I am bored. How can anyone ask that of a gardener?”
One can almost hear her chuckle through the words, knowing well that true gardeners never endure boredom.
As she so eloquently reminds us,
“Every season is new and different from all those that went before.”
What a charming testament to the perpetual wonder that gardens inspire!
Elizabeth speaks of the endless surprises held within the garden’s embrace:
“There always is something new in bloom, something expected and something unexpected, something lost that is found.”
Does this not mirror life itself?
And yet, she acknowledges the gardener’s bittersweet companion: disappointment.
But take note, dear reader, “being sad is not the same thing as being bored.”
How beautifully she separates the soulful melancholy of nature’s trials from the dullness of ennui.
Echoing this delicate dance of hope and caution is Carolyn Dorman’s wistful Saint Valentine’s Day note:
“It acts like spring, but I dare not hope.”
Can we not all relate?
The garden flirts with promise, yet the lingering threat of frost whispers warnings a gardener knows all too well. Carolyn’s Northern Louisiana weather in 1899, with its brutal plunge to 20 degrees below zero, could have scorched early blooms.
Yet, with hopeful defiance,
“God spare us, daffodils are beginning now, and Magnolia Alba Superba will soon be in bloom.”
The white beauty of the Magnolia x soulangiana, which Carolyn praises above even the cherished Yulan, stands as a symbol of fragile hope.
In Elizabeth’s own garden, the Yulan (Magnolia denudata) and two hybrids, M. x soulangiana and M. x veitschii, bloomed together on March 8th under perfect conditions—warm but not hot weather, no frost, no rain, and only gentle wind to tease the petals.
Think, dear reader, when have you witnessed such a delicate ballet of blooms? This rare moment invites us to cherish the fleeting and the extraordinary amidst our own gardens.
So, what does it mean to be a gardener, if not to live perpetually on the cusp of surprise and discovery?
To witness each season’s secrets unfurl, and to embrace the joys and sorrows alike?
Might there be boredom in this?
Surely not.
Instead, there is a tender, ever-turning page of beauty, mystery, and quiet resilience.
In the words of Elizabeth Lawrence, how could any gardener be bored?
