The sun was shining when I got home from work this afternoon, and all but a few patches of snow were gone from both the front yard and the backyard. My garden assistant and I headed outside to cut back the hellebores (me) and sniff the ground (her) where the 3 mourning doves have been hanging out in the evenings.
(Nevermind that she took the direct route and tromped over what's left of the bleached blades of zebra grass, and mauled some 'Chocolate Chip' ajuga as well, to get there.)
In the first picture you see two of the mourning doves along with the aforementioned hellebores. I was really hoping to see some snowdrop or winter aconite foliage peaking through the ground, but instead all I saw was a big Mess. Yes, with a capital M. After I finished the hellebores I walked around the garden, admiring sprouts of chives and drumstick alliums and just generally taking note of what needed to be done on the next sunny warm day.
I was cutting down the old lemongrass, and remembering how pretty it looked mingling with cascading rosemary during October's Garden Bloggers Bloom Day post, when I was shaken away from my memory by a flash of green.
There, at the top and bottom right edge of the plant... do you see them? Green tubes, reminiscent of stalks of lemongrass, coming up out of the ground:
Disbelief coursed through my body. Lemongrass is only hardy to, oh, zone 9 or 10, right? There's no way it could overwinter here in NE Ohio.
But then again... the rest of the blades were flattened over that right side where the green is coming up. And we had lots of snowcover throughout the winter. And it was very near to the warmth of rocks and cement driveway and the clay drainpipe that served as a planter for the rosemary.
Hmm. I felt around, and it seemed as though they were indeed attached to the plant crown. So I reached down and pinched a half inch of the greenery off of the lower shoot. After not nearly enough deliberation (yes, I realize how dumb this next action was) I popped the shoot in my mouth, expecting a burst of flavor... but definitely not the one I got!
My tongue soon began to burn, and it wasn't very long before I identified my newly sprouted plant: fresh garlic! A delicious surprise, but expecting lemongrass and finding hot, raw garlic flavor in your mouth is a bit like expecting milk and taking a sip of orange juice instead. My garden assistant soon came over to investigate the cause of my hysterical laughter--which is of course a source of concern for our canine friends--and I took the opportunity to round her up and head back into the house.
It's obvious that the mere mention of spring is going to my head these days.