Typically in Ohio, we gardeners (and to call myself one is stretching it) must cajole and wait and hope against the cold that our gardens will actually look like something by June. People throwing graduation parties bite their nails, hoping the flower beds won't be embarrassingly bare as the partiers parade through.
While we had our fair share of chilly temps this spring, the rain also fell and fell and fell, all to the great glee of my hostas and other tender spring sprouts.
So here I am on June first, giddy over the hostas in particular, which could be mistaken for a South American jungle specimen. Ooooo, how they love the wet and cool.
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