Divots in the Yard

Today I made divots in the yard: enormous wedges of dirt that turned over the ends of worms: startled out of their darkness, searching for the next bit of soul to till. Their tails (heads?) hung like looping cables. Their middles swung from the dirt molded into shovel shape. Tree rootlets came along with the dirt, in scratching tearing pieces. The shovel tore white grass roots from the soil. And all to plant some flowers.

One of the rites of spring is when one of us is busy counting clumps of flowers naturalized in the grass, and the other of us is pondering how a clandestine lawn mowing can guillotine their blossoms, leaving a level field behind. “Just another week,” I beg. “Have you seen what the lawn looks like? It’s ragged.” is the answer.

My fascination with scilla was born many years ago, when I marveled at their sky blue petals in my grandparents’ yard. Summer sky blue color, backlit by the rising sun, beaded with dew, the flowers bent over their grass-blade leaves. They come before the roses, and frolic below the heavy-belled tulips, like baby goats dancing amid cows.

Then one spring in Madison, we saw two ordinary yards, that were extraordinary for their rivers of blue: scilla packed tightly together in a tossing curling cloud of color. “That’s what I want in our yard,” I said. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he answered.

I planted 25 bulbs, hoping to see them spread across the yard. The first year, we had a sprinkle of blooms, almost invisible in the grass. I planted 50 the next year, hoping the original 25 had multiplied, and would now greet their friends. There were blooms, but not enough. After some years, the scilla have formed clumps of flowers, nodding in the wind, making blue in the green spring grass. But not enough. And not close enough together.

“At least let me cut part of the lawn,” he said. So this afternoon, apologizing to the worms and tree roots for disturbing their existence, I planted 400 scilla bulbs in the front yard, where we can see them from the window. May they and their relations have a safe sleep and a bright spring.