This is how Spring arrives in Kansas; not slowly, surreptitiously, slinking into sight, but with a sudden screeching shout of "Here I am!" and "Hello, it's me again!" I was thrilled last evening, arriving home just before sunset, to glance out the back window and see this bright yellow face turned up towards my window, welcoming me from winter into heaven.
Three short weeks ago, it was -17ºF one morning, the ground rock hard and unnurturing, the air as dry and crisp as a potato chip. Two Saturdays past, I got outside for the first time this year, spread a little straw down where the mulch was thin, trimmed a couple of fruit trees, and prayed for warm weather. Last Saturday, I officially kicked off the gardening year, weeks behind, clearing two beds, spreading more straw, and protecting the just-growing ornamental onions from ungulate nocturnal predators. But still, Spring I felt, was but a distant dream.
This week, however, the temperatures rose rapidly into the 70's for several days, the daffodils shot up from nothing, and lilac and forsythia buds swelled. With colder weather forecast tomorrow, I didn't expect to see anything actually BLOOM, but there was my garden, faithfully feasting on the sun's rays and defiantly leading the way to a new season. Not to be outdone by their taller, brasher daffodil friends, the sky-blue scilla, left here, and crocus, below at right, were also blooming near the path, leading me to happiness with every step.
The next four days are colder and rainy, but I don't care. That thawing ground out there is bone dry and could use a week of rain. I'm renewed now, confident that somewhere, just around the corner and another week away, Spring waits for me. I'll meet you there soon, my friend, loppers and Hori-Hori in hand, heck-bent to feel the damp earth in my hands and the sunshine on my face.
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