First thing in the morning, the garden looks as if a crazed jeweler has haphazardly sprinkled diamond dust on all the emerging foliage. The dwarf daylilies look more like dew-lilies, with each frond daintily showing off the single droplet clinging to its tip.
The Ladies' Mantle seems uniquely designed to catch and hold each fragile droplet. The surface of the leaves is slightly furry, and the outer edge serrated, making an ideal trap for the morning moisture.
The Dicentra use the opposite collection method. Rather than snaring the drops at the edge, the smooth leaves let them run down towards the central stem, where each individual leaflet adds its contribution to plump up the size of the sparkler to at least several carats.
The morning is also the time I discover when we've been a bit too enthusiastic with the mulch. Or rather, when enough is too mulch. When what we thought was a barren patch of ground in need of a nice thick carpet of weed-deadening sweet peat actually turns out to be a new location for some enterprising Solomon's Seal, which now has to fight its way up to the sunlight through more than just winter detritus.
And finally, there's the intrepid hosta. Gathering all its forces together, it lifts the lid off the mulch and tips it -- a crusty fedora -- at the morning sunshine.
