The whole blogosphere has been posting raptures to spring this last while, with gorgeous photos of spring flowers and flowering trees, lyrics to the sun and warmth, panegyrics to the spring. Some of these posts have been up for over a month (you know who you are, down there in New Orleans!). All of them have showed spring signs much more advanced than mine, even Anvilcloud, who lives north of me, for goodness sake.
Ten days ago, my bulb garden looked like this. You can see its present glory up in the header.
The red maples have flowered and the tips of the leaves are now showing. Even the buds on the oak, which is always late, are bulging. The birds are singing their hearts out, all except the woodpecker who is doing his spring drumming on the metal chimney of a close neighbour. Loud does not cover it. In between the bouts of pounding I can sometimes hear a northern mockingbird, I think. I haven't seen it but the string of borrowed song phrases is pretty certain. I can see flower buds on the lilacs and when I look out across the woods, I can see a haze of green everywhere. Lovely!
And, of course, the blackflies are here. While the rest of you are celebrating the sunshine with sandals and shorts, think of me with heavy socks pulled over my gardening trousers and sweltering in my bug shirt. Thank goodness we have a screened porch where I can enjoy the bird song without being attacked.
I will have to get the hummingbird feeders up - the little guys will be here very soon now. And plant the gladiolas.
It's not just the birds that are delirious with spring business. But I have no intention of banging on the chimney.
PS There is now something more in my garden. My most creative neighbours have decided to celebrate my birthday by hiding garden gnomes around the place. I found one in the daffodil bed to-night, and I have notice that two others are around somewhere. Hilarious!