“Nothing teaches us hope like the lingering winter.”c e hollis
When the hyacinth perfumes the garden and daffodils dance in the wind like cream-winged fairies, I am ready for spring. I am ready for southern winds to blow warm back into the land, icicles to drip and disappear, the last patches of snow to turn to mud and the sun shine like he means it.
You can almost hear the leaf buds swell on the tree branches and the crocus push up even through ice and frost. Tulip leaves raise one shoulder and muscle their green points from the earth. You can smell the waters of the gulf lapping on the shores of Texas and Louisiana. You can hear the butterflies beginning to pack their bags in South America for the migration north. Before we know they will be flitting and fluttering back to rest atop the faces of roses and zinnias.
Above the snow come daffodil spears, iris, and the hardy hyacinth. The Lenten rose is already blooming. Seems you can’t stop it with late frosts and cold nights. A last snow covered the entire plant and next afternoon it popped back up and though drooping it began to unfold its satiny pink petals to show its inner beauty.
Soon the flowering trees will wear snow white or pink flowers like scarves against the March breeze and the April showers. Birds will begin their nest building and grass will sprout while the daffodils trumpet “Spring is here!”