When I started trying to garden at my last place, due to the deep shade everywhere, and possibly other factors that I never understood, growing anything was a struggle.  Only half of anything I planted seemed to come up, and what did come up, came up so much later than anybody else’s stuff, so that I agonized about its chances of coming up at all.  When stuff would start to poke out of the ground, there was still so little of it that I would count each little plant.  There were eleven lilies, seven daffodils, something like eight crocuses, and five very sickly looking tulips.  So, I just want to pause here to be thankful for the carpet of croci, clumps of daffodils, a couple of large colonies of iris, and a fair number of tulips coming up all around me now, in a satisfying and timely fashion.  I have not even tried to count.


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