Signs of Spring…

There was snow in London last month, well, all of England really, apparently it stopped the trains dead in their tracks.

It may as well have snowed here, the temperatures dropped low enough and we had a record number of freezes, according to someone who watches the weather channel and keeps up with those kinds of facts.

After a wearisome long, cold, gloomy and wet two-plus months we may have finally broken through to the other side and I am on the lookout for signs of Spring.

In Texas we don’t like weather that goes on and on…

we get enough of that in the long, hot summers…

We want our winters to have the odd cold snap, quickly followed by mild stretches that make us feel positively Floridian.

We want the odd thunderstorm, preferably at night when we’re all safely tucked up warm and dry in bed.

We don’t want days and days of torrential rain that fills up the lakes and swells our creek. (Although every summer we complain about the dropping water levels in our public bodies of water)

We’re not fans of the soggy grasses and muddy pathways.

We don’t like the deepening of the potholes in our dirt road, which the optimist (me) may see as organic sleeping policemen slowing down the progression of incoming and outgoing traffic and deterring casual day trippers,

To the realist the lane becomes a slippery mudslide rendering the narrow bridge over our now bank-bursting creek, treacherous,


and a hazardous adventure for those of us who insist on walking it every day.

“It is winter…” I say when I catch myself complaining too much.

Hubs and I had planted 200 crocus bulbs in four shallow trenches down in the back forty in sight of our back porch,

“They should give us a sunshiny glow of purples and yellows later,” I said hopefully.

So far nothing!

“Probably rotted in the ground,” I commented, “with all that rain.”

We wandered down to the tree under which Daughts and Sam were married to investigate and found a few dozen orange flowers scattered around.


A friend suggested that the darker colours may emerge later, as in the case of her Hyacinths.  It turned out she was right, one had peeked up the next time I looked!


As yet we still can’t see them from the house…but with the dryer weather and warmer days I’m confident that with my binoculars I won’t be disappointed.

As if a wand had been waved overnight, blossom appeared on the plum and peach trees,


and as I was driving along our main farm-to-market road my eyes were caught by marshmallow puffs of white blooms fluffy against the crisp blue sky, hugging barns, hiding behind houses, and boldly standing tall alongside a pole fence.


At home again I decided to see what my winter garden looked like with the thaw.  I’d planted cabbages and Brussel sprouts and not tended to them because, well, they’re winter crops.  I found them looking…like full blown cabbage flowers!


Rich and warm in their mauve coats.

Then of course, last but not least, the humble daffodil made a shy appearance…


Unfortunately most of the original bulbs have been dug up and eaten by the squirrels but these made a valiant display.  Perhaps next year I’ll plant some around the nearby trees that stand on a little hillock.

To add to this promise from nature, the clocks sprang forward yesterday so now there’s an extra hour in the evening to play outside with the new puppy next door!


Isn’t he an adorable bundle of Aussie-Poo?

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