The fickle change of seasons

I pondered a post last week when April dawned with bright blue skies, and abundance of sunshine, and warmer breezes. Looking back, I'd have been making a big mistake. While parts of the country have been well into the 80s, even in March, we've only made the mid 60s and that was fleeting. The calendar says it's Spring; the weather says Winter is not quite ready to release the grasp it has.

It's time to take studs off tires, plant those blooming flowers...and see daffodils, crocus, grape hyacinth, azaleas...all in bloom. Our plants seem to understand that subtle changes have occurred. Peonies are bursting through cold, damp ground.Tiny leaves suddenly open on maples. Hummingbirds drain feeders much too quickly. We all welcome the awakening of Mother Nature from a long Winter's nap. (and it's still snowing in the Cascades)

I have always loved Fall and Winter...less a fan of Spring, hate Summer (heat). This year was different. I'm anxious for the tulips to bloom (it's colder here so we're a little later), the trees to be full of leaves, and a little more warm to welcome each day. And a little more blue sky would be nice too. Not that I look forward to pulling weeds, mowing the lawn, watering once the rains stop. But I do...in a way. The embracing of Spring means color...everywhere...and a welcome change from the stark grays and browns of Winter. Color pops back into our lives and life pops back from that long nap.