Okay, we're about five hours to the beginning of spring, when the sun crosses the line and we have Equinox. Woke up this morning to a gale of wind and wet, soggy, cold snow falling. Since then, we've had the gamut of weather from rain, fog, drizzle and more snow to brilliant sunshine for about half an hour to more snowfluffies to more rain. And of course, all this has meant excessive water so that the yard looks like a wetland and the garden areas are just soggy messes.
But then there are snowdrops.
Sunday morning, my long-suffering spouse accosted me as soon as I stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and in need of coffee, not conversation.
"You gotta get dressed and go outside!" he announced.
"Why? Is the house on fire?" That seemed a reasonable question, given that Sunday morning is my "Leave me alone til I've had coffee and done Kathleen's O Canada crossword " time, and you tamper with it at your peril.
"No....you have flowers in bloom."
Oh. That sort of erased the peril. I hauled on some clothes and Lowell's size 13 rubber boots and squished my way out to the lower front garden. And there, in all their pearl-like, shining glory, they were--about a dozen and a half snowdrops, not quite open yet but definitely up and opening. They weren't there yesterday (after the monsoon washed away the snow from the previous night).
And to top that off, a male redwinged blackbird landed in the birch tree and announced Poo-too-weet! before heading down to the pond to scout out nesting sites.
It's still plenty early, of course. But I'll take these little gifts for what they are. We're gonna make 'er.
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