Getting Impatient for Spring

This weekend has been almost warm. The kind of almost warm that makes me realise just how much I have acclimatised to England: I look at our thermometer and perk up at the idea of temperatures higher than 5 degrees.  I cycled to the shops on Friday wearing only two layers (t-shirt and cotton jumper; no wind-proof cycling jacket) and trousers without tights.  I marvelled at how warm it was and my eyes lit up as I passed the park with clumps of daffodil stems.  Very, very soon, they will bloom.

My own bulbs are a bit more nascent.  Shortly after the snow melted, I went out to look for shoots, my brow knotted because I was worried I’d planted them too close or something had eaten them.  (To be honest, I was half hoping something would eat them, because that would mean there were badgers about.  Optimistic – very; realistic – no.)  The lawn has not been disturbed at all, so definitely nothing ate them.

This is what I saw:

Here we are!

Here we are!

This makes me ever-so happy.  I know that soon I will have a lawn spattered with purple crocuses and yellow daffodils, and spring will be here.

Elsewhere, daffodils are already out (I’m postulating they get more sunshine – and fertiliser – than my patch).  I also saw one of my favourite English flowers: snowdrops.  They come out when it is still cold.  They are tiny, delicate little things; growing in clusters under trees and beside rocks, fences and gravestones; they look like they’re huddling together for warmth.

The first batch I saw on our weekend cycle ride was on the side of a hill that we were descending.  As delightful as the sight of snowdrops was, the descent was much too much fun to stop for a photograph.  But a later batch came as we arrived at a cross-roads, so I leant my bike alongside a stonewall and knelt on the sodden ground for a close up.  My knees got muddy and cold (oops), but I was happy.

Winter delights: snowdrops.

Winter delights: snowdrops.

I prefer the sweetness of a single snowdrop.

The groups are lovely but I prefer the sweetness of a single snowdrop.

Snowdrops are goodbye-to-winter flowers; daffodils and crocuses are harbingers of spring.  I can’t wait!




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