It’s the 16th of April. Just two days ago, I saw the reappearance of tulips in our garden. I rejoiced at the pink buds on maples. There were even a few yellow flowers on the forsythias. Although the Solomon’s Seal hasn’t come up, it’s not hopeless. Yet. It might grow. Columbine is coming up and so are the day lilies.
It certainly felt like spring. The temperature climbed into the mid-70s (23 degrees metric). Shirt sleeve weather. I dared to consider wearing sandals.
Yesterday and today, rain was forecast. We need rain. The rivers are low and our well is probably low, too. I understood it was going to get colder, but overall, we were heading for spring, right? From all the photographs I get, I can see that spring has arrived in England, Canada, and Switzerland, so I figured we might get a bit of that.
This morning I opened the shade in the bathroom. It was snowing. Really snowing. There were several inches on the ground, trees, and feeders. The birds were singing to each other in what I think of as birdy conversation.
“Hey, guys? What’s this stuff coming out of the sky? Are your eggs okay? How’re the fledglings doing?”
I promptly put myself back to bed. I was not ready for snow and I hoped, with a little luck, by the time I got up later, the snow would have melted. No such luck. three hours later, it was still snowing, though mixed with rain.
Now, past four in the afternoon, there is still snow on the trees and ground. The roads are clear. They’re probably too warm for snow to stick, but gee whiz, haven’t we had enough winter yet?
I don’t mind rain. How about a nice, gentle spring rain, the kind they talk about in children’s poetry?