They come up at the end of February or the beginning of March, right through the snow and ice, regardless of what's falling from the sky. I never planted them - they came with my house when we bought it twenty years ago, and they have propagated randomly all over what I like to refer to as the South Lawn. They pop up without warning, without reason, without an organized plan.
They always come right when I need them.
Because in November and December, there is nothing more magical than a snowstorm. We stand in the street, marveling at the magic, spinning and trying to catch the flakes on our tongues. But in March, there is nothing more unwelcome than a driveway that needs to be shoveled and a car that needs to be cleared off. By March, we are ready for the flowers. Most of them aren't ready for us, though. They need a few more weeks to make their heady, joyful appearance.
Except for the snowdrops.
I went to the Philadelphia Flower Show again this year with my sister, mom, and dear friends, and it put me in a flowery mood. Right about now, I want nothing more than a riotous garden of color, a sign that new and beautiful life is possible - inevitable - after the deep slumber of winter.
Here are some things I am working on while waiting for signs of life:
|Green wooly socks. My feet are always cold, even in March. These should help.|
|A mint-green lace scarf designed by Aimee Alexander of polkadotsheep.com.|
I think the pattern looks like owls' faces - what do you think?
What is the weather doing in your part of the world? What are the signs of season change that you look forward to most? Or least?