Touch of spring

As you might know I'm an avid gardener... not! Farmgirl Susan has delighted us yesterday with a picture of this perennial (the word she uses, I wouldn't have known otherwise...heck I don't even know what a perennial is hehe). That reminded me of these pictures I'd taken some time ago when the first pinkish red flowers bloomed. Like Susan I have no idea what this plant is, the only thing I know that it doesn't need any looking after, it just stands there most of the year and all of a sudden, halfway March the first bright spots appear. It makes me smile every time I see it, too bad I can't see it from my diningroom window!
Somehow I can't grasp the garden concept, I grew up living in an apartment building and I think I'm beyond help, so in comes the gardener! No, I don't really employ a gardener, hold your horses, but here's how it came to be: we live across a small burial yard. And that is not scary/creepy at all, it's nice and friendly, pheasants and rabbits come to play, people go there all the time, sit on the bench contemplating, I kind of like the thought that the loved ones buried there still take part in their daily routine and is so much part of our village.

Anyway, the man that keeps the grounds neat and tidy is an avid gardener, by profession as well as in his heart. My garden wilts whenever I look at it, but whenever he wanders around in that slow gait real gardeners seem to perfect, every plant stands to attention. That's the man I need in my life garden! So the deal is this: we barter. I do sweets and coffee (or the occasional bread and beer) and he offers advice or hands-on help. I think by now he is convinced I am a city girl beyond rescue and I'm fine with that.