Well, our weather has been erratic. Perhaps schizophrenic. Or, maybe, perhaps there is a power struggle that none of us are aware of between Old Man Winter and Sweet Young Thing Spring.
Monday, we were in short sleeves, walking our exquisitely adorable puppy and climbing trees. Ok, fine, Weston was climbing trees. I was safely on the ground.
Tuesday, it rained, Wednesday it snowed and
Thursday, well, we are back to blue skies. I somehow feel that Old Man Winter didn't have it in him this year. It was not terribly cold. It was not terribly long. The only thing it truly did was provide a bit of the much needed moisture.
And now my daffodils are poking their heads up. My crocus are happily blooming and any minute I will see my sweet parrot tulips making an appearance.
Even the peas in the garden are getting into the swing of things.
In case you couldn't tell, my favorite thing about Spring is not warm weather, late spring snows, or even the lengthening days. No, my most favoritest thing is plants and watching everything come back to life. It seems like a miracle every year.