Tag Archives: spring

Blossom

These little guys popped out overnight.

They took me a little by surprise on this cloudy day.

Just over a week ago they were covered in snow and ice. I was not sure about the fate of the tiny fragile buds. I was unsure if the bright yellow blossoms would survive the harsh cold.

But they made it.

Through the freeze.

Through the harshness.

Through the dark days that seemed  to go on forever.

They made it.

And they are lovely.  And strong.

They seem to have a heightened beauty this year.  Perhaps more beautiful because of what they endured to survive.

A sunny reminder on this cloudy day, that spring follows every winter and hope spring eternal.

Out Like A Lamb

March weather

Yesterday was the last day of March. And as the old saying goes about that marvelous month, “it comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.”

I am not at all sure who said that, but it was certainly fitting for March this year. The above pictures are all from the month of March last week.  What a wacky meteorological roller coaster we’ve been on.

But yesterday gave proof to the old adage.  It was bight, blue, sunny, and beautiful. And 70. Pretty much picture perfect.

And seeing that it’s the same today, I’m happily enjoying it; ever so grateful for lambs.

Because lions are for the birds.

Finally Spring?

mini daffodil

Today is the first day of spring.  And I feel like that should be said in a whispered, hushed tone.  Or better yet it should come out of my mouth as a question, asked prayerfully.  Really? Pretty Please? Can it finally be spring?  I feel like if we get too excited about the tentative blooms (who can blame them?!) or the sun that has hesitated to peek out from behind the gloomy clouds this sunny and seasonable day will be snatched away.  Again.  Another tease in this insane winter that will not end.

Everyone has been grumbling about the winter we have had.  Even my husband who complains about nothing finally cracked with a comment that he is “just tired of being cold.” This has been the longest, coldest winter ever.  Or so we thought, but maybe it really it hasn’t been.  We heard just yesterday that it is only the 34th coldest winter on record.  Now, exactly who is recording and precisely what record they are speaking of, I do not know.  But it is interesting nonetheless.  Maybe we are becoming a bunch of wimps.  Could be.  I’ll buy it.  Polar vortex or not, I’m done with it.  I’m beyond tired of being cold and waiting for school cancellations, and making runs for milk and bread to avoid empty grocery store shelves, and washing piles of snow clothes.

D-O-N-E done.  I’m just ready for sunshine.

And I likely just doomed us all by saying that out loud too.  Given the way things have gone through the winter, this lovely sunny day will end with a crack of thunder which will bring us snow in 10 days – an odd “snow lore” discussed all over town and noted apparently in the Farmers Almanac.  But odd or not, it has happened nearly every time we’ve had snow this winter.  We know.  We’ve counted.

We were duped on the first day of spring a couple of years ago this very same way.  I sincerely hope today will not be a repeat.  I’m bravely going to test fate and open a few windows.  I may even cut the few blooms that did not freeze in the ice two days ago, and I’ll sweet talk Mother Nature and shout ask nicely if it can, indeed, finally be spring.

 

 

Good Morning Spring!

Today is the first day of spring.  This sweet little rainbow over our quiet, sleepy house is what we woke up to this morning.

That’s not really true.  What we really woke up to shortly before 5 am was this.

So instead of cursing at the storm that woke me up EARLY this morning, I ran out to take its picture.  And I was rewarded with this image!

(photo from wral.com)

And by “we” I mean “we.”  The entire household.  All of them in our bed.  Watching and waiting for the lightning to cease and the thunder to fade away.  And the tears to stop running down little faces buried under pillows.  And the house stop shaking off its foundation with every quaking rumble.  As with most scary things in the dark of night, the storms moved on and the scene became funny; all of us crowded in the bed waiting for daylight.

After all that, the rainbow was a perfect way start the morning.  Or end the morning.  Or start the day.  Or whatever.  Today it was a little blessing to be thankful for.

Along with king sized beds and strong coffee.