Spring is painfully brief in my neck of the woods. By the time it is warm enough for the blooms to pop, the weather plays hard to get; vascilating between snow and sun, rain and wind... and then, only then, do the lovely flowers of spring POP. All too often they are flattened by snow, pelted by ice, or eroded by rain. This year has been fair, if not kind. The past few days have been windy to the extreme which often presages a massive change in the weather. We have had snow, rain, sun and grey, sometimes all in the same day.
I watch the daffodils for the sign that the weather has turned. When they stop swaying in the wind, and stand tall above all the other plants beginning to push up from the cold soil, that's when the warm southern winds blow mellow all through the night. Most northerners are thrilled when those warm humid winds come up from the south... but not me. I relish these last few fickle days of spring. I love the changeability of this time of year. I love being surprised when I go outside, thinking it might be 60 degrees, only to find it isn't even close to 40, but the sunshine screams SPRING!