Crocus blooming on the hillside near the cottage.
Burrr-r-r-r-! Pardon me while I shiver. It isn't all that warm this morning…47˚F at the moment, 54˚F predicted for the day's high. Not like the near-70s we've enjoyed recently. Tomorrow, so the weather gurus warn, there's even a possibility of snow.
Having witnessed quite a few of them by now, I can't say I'm surprised by such shenanigans. Come early spring, especially, the new season dances a sort of Texas two-step—quick quick, slow slow. Sometimes I swear it isn't the soft piping of Pan I hear in the distance, but faint strains of some old Bob Wills twin fiddle tune in the background.
Yet I'm not in the least disappointed. As I say, I've been here before. And in a way, I actually welcome spring's slow, stuttering start, because it not only teaches restraint and perseverance, it also allows time to savor. Rather than having the whole season tossed in our laps at once, this way you get to relish and appreciate the unfolding. Spring's delights are many—from singing birds to blooming flowers, sparkling streams, unfolding buds, painted skies and peepers calling like twinkling bells. And everywhere, a world in color transition—from drab gray-brown to luscious verdant green. I like to enjoy the show.
Slow is good…in baking bread, making love, or enjoying spring.