Before the blooms

I've been watching my redbud trees like a hawk -- looking for tell-tale signs of imminent budding and then on to bloom. Other redbuds in town have burst forth in a profusion of pink, so why not mine? I see a haze of green across many of the trees around, sort of like peach fuzz on a 13-year-old boy. Suddenly, the background colors have shifted from grey and brown to the first blush (if you can call green a blush) of spring. I've planted four new trees out back, but so far, nada. However, the pomegranates are already leafing out, despite my radical pruning of them a while back. The teeny-weeny ipheion (starflower) is blooming by the front door, and one or two lonely iris in the backyard. Oh, and two buds on the iceberg rose! Waiting is such a huge part of being a gardener, one that I don't excel at. And gardens are about change, more than anything, so once the bloom you've been waiting for finally appears... it's already changing. Shoot, February is a philosophical month, no? This time last year, when Dad was in the hospital, Mom brought his orchid plant up to his room. When he first went in, around February 15th or so, the orchid was just budding out. One by one, the audacious pink blooms opened up through our gloomy days until -- finally and perfectly -- the last one unfolded on March 1st, the day Dad died. Mom says it's getting ready to bloom again. So are we all.