It is doubtful that the poet, Alexander Pope, was a gardener but his line, 'Hope springs eternal...' from 'An Essay On Man' is certainly a gardener's motto. It has slipped severely from this gardener's mind of late. It has been well over six months since my last post. Last year was a painful gardening year here in RI. I have lived on this ten acres of property for over 40 years and there has been a steady increase in the number of deer visiting and foraging on plantings here. Who can blame them since I have laid out a beautiful smorgasbord of lush hosta, divine perennials and room to roam. 
The newest Garden Supervisor, L. J. Gibbs, a now 2 year old chocolate lab is sweet of soul and has little interest in chasing any four legged pests. He is being stripped of his job title and will be reassigned as the Garden Greeter since all he seems to do is wag his tail. He is much better suited to that job. Adding to this gardener's misery was another year of gypsy moth caterpillar devastation. I am hoping the cycle, GMC problems are cyclical, will be broken this year. Five stately oaks surrounding the garden and many more in the woods will stand bare this coming season. They will, at least, provide a home for birds. Hope has diminished in the heart of this gardener this past season.....until Friday. On Friday blooms appeared. 
The snowdrops unfurled their white petals showing green chevrons in the hearts. The aconites bloomed bright yellow in their beds of leaf litter. Hellebore flowers, tattered though they may be, also flashed a bright white smile in the garden. 
The surprise of bright purple crocus against the warm foundation broke the monotony of brown littered leaves. My one very pitiful witch hazel put forth threads of gold. 
A flutter of hope woke this gardener up from winter's lethargy and yes, hope, once again, springs eternal.