... my sympathy and apologies. I am about to tell you things you may not want to hear. If you would rather not know of daffodils already well on their way to blooming, stop reading now. You have snow on the ground and probably more to come. Then it will be mud season. I remember. I lived in New England for 13 years. I loved the snow and cold of December and January, but past Valentine's Day, as February drew to a dreary close, I began to long for spring. But I knew it would still be a long time coming. So, if you are tired of the snow, dreading the mud, and longing for an earthy whiff of warming leaf mold or the fragrance of lilacs, you have my sympathy. And my apologies for what I am about to tell you.
Yesterday afternoon, it was 75 degrees. Sometimes this week, when the sun hasn't been shining, a gentle rain has fallen. This morning, we're having a booming thunderstorm. But it's warm enough to sit out on the porch take it all in. Who doesn't love a good thunderstorm?
One afternoon earlier in the week, I sat on the porch, in short sleeves, reading. The cat, who loves the warmth just as much as I do and had spent most of the day exploring outside, jumped up on the chair beside me. The very damp earth, soggy with snow melt and rain, warmed, and the stream out back flowed. The chorus frogs were singing. The breeze caressed. I took a deep breath and spring filled my nostrils and lungs.
This time last week, we'd just had a "historic" snow storm. Weather-caster hyperbole. 8 inches of snow and three days school vacation hardly seem worthy of that designation. Perhaps our years in the Berkshires, when 8 inches was an inconvenience and the plows might take just a little longer to get the roads cleared, makes me skeptical of all the hype, and gives me a certain nonchalance about what my local weatherman declares to be historic. But, historic or not, it's all behind us now. The tiny patches of snow lingering in shady spots have all melted away and I am hunting, hunting, hunting for more signs of spring.
Oh, the cold will be back. The temperatures will drop and it may even snow again, and we will worry about our early flowers. But spring is announcing her arrival ... and I am ready.
Yesterday afternoon, it was 75 degrees. Sometimes this week, when the sun hasn't been shining, a gentle rain has fallen. This morning, we're having a booming thunderstorm. But it's warm enough to sit out on the porch take it all in. Who doesn't love a good thunderstorm?
One afternoon earlier in the week, I sat on the porch, in short sleeves, reading. The cat, who loves the warmth just as much as I do and had spent most of the day exploring outside, jumped up on the chair beside me. The very damp earth, soggy with snow melt and rain, warmed, and the stream out back flowed. The chorus frogs were singing. The breeze caressed. I took a deep breath and spring filled my nostrils and lungs.
This time last week, we'd just had a "historic" snow storm. Weather-caster hyperbole. 8 inches of snow and three days school vacation hardly seem worthy of that designation. Perhaps our years in the Berkshires, when 8 inches was an inconvenience and the plows might take just a little longer to get the roads cleared, makes me skeptical of all the hype, and gives me a certain nonchalance about what my local weatherman declares to be historic. But, historic or not, it's all behind us now. The tiny patches of snow lingering in shady spots have all melted away and I am hunting, hunting, hunting for more signs of spring.
the very last little patch of last week's snow and one brave daffodil
Oh, the cold will be back. The temperatures will drop and it may even snow again, and we will worry about our early flowers. But spring is announcing her arrival ... and I am ready.
1 comment:
Here's a northern reader who enjoys reading about your early spring! It builds the anticipation :) xo
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