The absolutely first thing to bloom in our part of the Frozen North is snowdrops. Our neighbor catty corner to us (southern directional term meaning her house is diagonal to ours and across the street) has snowdrops planted around her mailbox. Dear Miss Alice is gone now, but these clusters of delicate, tiny drops of white at her ancestral home are a fitting and hope filled memorial.
Then there are the new shoots of daffodils emerging, promising a second wave of blooms. The ones planted close to our concrete foundation on the south side seem to burst through ground and bloom first. I think the concrete holds and reflects the sun's warmth. This is the perfect place for the modest greenhouse of my dreams. I just haven't had the heart to dig up the peonies behind the daffies to make way for the greenhouse.
Today we experienced the warm bracing high of thiry-nine degrees fahrenheit, (we're having a heat wave!!) accompanied by blue skies and cottony white clouds.
Quite a contrast from the dreary dull grey of a few weeks ago.
The maple branches in the front yard are pregnant with swelling buds that will soon turn into green leaves.
Last but not least is the sound of peepers. Peepers (also called pinkletinks on Martha's Vineyard and tinkeltoes in New Brunswick, Canada according to Wikipedia) are tiny frogs whose breeding season begins in March. The saying around here is that winter is officially over once peepers have been heard three successive evenings. The mating call of the male frogs can be both delightful and cacophonous, depending on their concentration in the area.
My Dear Professor and I went out for our weekly date night last night and were talking about how much we both enjoyed the sunshine and relative warmth of today. I wondered if the hope and joy that Spring brings can be as fully appreciated by "sunrise-ers" (younger folks whose future lies before them) as it is by "sunset-ers" (older folks whose retirement lies before them).
This I do know. Spring is a good thing. And I am so grateful it is finally here.
