Growing freesias requires a fair amount of patience. In the time one planting of freesias grows, buds and flowers, I’ve started countless narcissi and amarylli that have sprouted from bare, brown bulbs, poured forth a profusion of geen leaves and bloomed–spectacularly in the case of the amaryllis, and incredibly fragrantly for the narcissus. Meanwhile, months go by and the grass green sword-like leaves of the freesias grow with abandon, and absolutely no sense of orderliness. They are the indoor garden version of an unmade bed–and even with zealous staking, they manage to tumble and billow all over. This year, both to keep the mess all in one place, and because it’s cooler there, I set them up on the windowsill in my office, back in December. I very optimistically staked them with old aluminum knitting needles and twine. Everything went along well for quite a while–they grew slowly, and were easy to corral. I must have turned my back on them for a day or two, because they were suddenly towering over the tops of the needles, brushing the top of the window frame, and so intertwined that there was no moving them. Then the flower buds started popping up on long wiry stems, appearing mysteriously where just yesterday there where only leaves–tiny, elegant little buds that slowly but surely began to open. They are beautiful, yellow-throated pinks, whites and buttery yellows, but what I’ve really been waiting for is the fragrance–delicate, sweet, fruity–it is such a boon when the world is gray and snowy, and the calendar says it’s almost spring, but really it’s MARCH–the longest month of the whole year–even beating November in my book. No amount of garden planning, seed starting and apple pruning can begin to compete with a blooming freesia as an antidote for March!