Have you ever stopped to think about the importance of silence in the natural world? I mean flowers open up without making a sound. The sun rises and sets with no audible cues. Same with photosynthesis. All that food those green, green leaves are making?

Nope, I can’t hear it either.

In fact, I would argue that most of the vitally important things that happen in our lives are accomplished in silence.

When my husband and I bought our Vermont home, its large front yard was virtually bare of plants. And because we face the southwest, it was hot on summer afternoons. Birds were not plentiful, to say the least.

It was kind of a grassy desert, to tell you the truth.

I spent our first year here just watching the yard. Where did the sun fall at what times? Were there any plants that needed saving? And what kind of soil was I working with?

I would love to tell you that I am so organized I drew up a garden plan then followed it to the letter. But I’m not that kind of gardener. I’m more of the “let’s plant it here and see if it grows” variety of soil tender.

It’s taken years, and a dedication to eliminating most of the grass in my front yard but now there are trees and bushes and perennials living in a mutual support system that brings us fresh green beans, the ethereal color of peonies, dandelions and violets, and birds and birds and birds.

And May is our busiest month. There’s lots of narcissus that I planted everywhere in all sorts of yellow, orange, and cream combinations. Delicate bleeding hearts and their wilder cousins, Dutchmen’s breeches are in full bloom. There are violets from white to deep purple, apple blossoms, forsythia, and trillium.

Yep, May is an amazing month. My husband and I are constantly sharing news from the garden and the woods: “Did you see the buds on the white iris?” “The first lilac popped open,” and the musical toads are singing in the river.

I thought you might enjoy a respite from human reality to mingle with my garden’s inhabitants. Stay as long as you like.

~Sonja Hakala