Those little white bells along their green stems are perfuming my living room, along with a vase of white and purple lilacs beside them. When I sit down in my chair to read – every time! – I am surprised by the scent.
The flowers of this shrub (I’ve already forgotten its name) have no scent that I can tell, but the flowers surprise me all the same, blooming with their blood red petals under a tree where all else is some shade of green, or maybe a demure white.
There are other surprises in my garden this week – the espalier pears are leafing out, finally, and seem to have survived my surgery on their limbs; last fall’s pansies along the front fence are exuberant and lovely, when I never before thought to admire a pansy; and Milo chewed up some unknown plant, now just a root ball and a woody, chewed crown. Who knows who the victim was? I’ll find out some day when I go to check on a plant in an out of the way spot and find a hole. But by in large the good surprises outweigh the bad this week, and for that I am grateful.