Survivor

The people who lived here three years ago, and have gone where other couples have gone before them--one to the cemetery and the other to a retirement home--left us a lovely yard, with roses, iris, tulips, clematis, and a dying rhododendron. I let the rhododendron go, sadly. I am sure I finished off  the clematis by trying to gradually remove the grapevine, rugosa rose, and vining bittersweet nightshade that twined throughout the mass of the plant. The hybrid tea rosebushes that line the front walks were helpfully pruned back before winter by someone doing us a favor. They are barely coming back now near the base, unless they were completely frozen. I hope to revive them slowly and won't autumn-prune them this fall. I am learning, do not do any more than tip pruning before winter! The iris are doing pretty well, but I think I need to learn how to fertilize them. As for the tulips, I was unable to deal with the grasses in the bed and eventually, my lawn grandson just mowed them. They halfheartedly tried to come back last year, but have not bloomed while I was in charge of them until now. (It isn't lawn-mowing time yet!) This is the bloom. There is one other bud. I love the way it converses with the dandelion, while delicately leaning away. I have never gardened in this climate, but I am learning slowly what I can manage at this age. And ever more, I fell the need of growing things about me. I feel as if this tough tulip is speaking to me, too!
I had a poem for tonight, but was fighting with the Internet again, and now I've told you the tulip story, the poem will keep until tomorrow. Good night!