The Bulbs Know – Part Two

Jane Wilson

I emptied my parka’s pockets today, removing three pair of gloves; the 30 below-zero pair, the fleece pair, and the brightly flowered garden gloves, along with the ubitquitous crumpled (but clean) tissues. At different times during the past week, sometimes in the same day, I’ve worn all three pair.

A half dozen daffodils are blooming along the front walk, amidst the leaves I raked from the bed a few days ago, which have since blown back. As I accept the inevitable, the reprise of my leaf-raking performance with three costume changes, I imagine a conversation between the daffodils and the leaves. “It’s going to be cold, again, tonight. Tuck us in, will ya’?”

“I’ll let you sleep in, until the weekend,” I interrupt, acutely aware I’m talking to myself, rather than to bunches of stems, leaves and blossoms, “then I’ll strip away the covers. Sleep well, my darlings.”

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About Jane Wilson

Jane Wilson graduated from the University of Michigan Law School, was a trial attorney for 25 years and has served on the faculty of the National Institute for Trial Advocacy on numerous occasions. She was an Adjunct Professor of Law at Cleveland State University for several years and served as an Interim Associate Professor of Law in the clinical program at Case Law School. In 2009, she returned to the small southwestern Michigan community where she was raised, and wrote a novel.
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2 Responses to The Bulbs Know – Part Two

  1. Yep, three pair of gloves…and leaves that don’t stay raked, and flowers that remind us that spring is slowly coming. “I wish you could talk,” said Alice. “We can talk,” said the tiger lily.

  2. Jane Wilson says:

    I pruned the roses this afternoon, using long-handled pruning shears, to save my back. They appear to all be the same variety, clearly hardy, since they’ve survived years of neglect while the house was vacant, including two abominable winters.

    A few didn’t make it. One seems to be a stalk with a single leaf. Another is no more than a sprig.

    A half dozen tulips are struggling. Three have buds, which should open soon. I expect them to be red, like the roses.

    Grape hyacinths are sprouting at the base of the maple near my bedroom window. The vegetable garden will have to wait until next year. I’ll plant herbs in containers and place them on the porch railing, so I don’t have to kneel or even bend to water them.

    Next year, I’ll be on my knees, playing in the dirt.

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