Very nearly every blog I read these days is posting pictures of tender, green buds and waxing all excited over the newly blooming spring flowers (seriously, even Neil Gaiman). T'ain't nunuh that here. Spring, for those of you just now joining us, is by far my favorite time of year, and I'm really excited to be living in a place with real seasons again for this very reason. The harder and nastier your winters, the harder the flowers bloom when it's over. We're just not quite there yet.
Don't get me wrong, we've had some lovely days this March. It's just too early for flowers, and this week has been pretty consistently cold and dreary. So the Van Gogh umbrella helps. I feel like I'm forcefully unfurling sun and summer onto the tale-end of winter. Chasing it out. Or blending winter with summer, hoping the shake-up will settle sooner, rather than later, into real-life spring.
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