The promise of spring

I'm not expecting spring any time soon. I've seen the forecast for the next week and there is more snow on our horizon. And even if they change their mind and make it rain, just the threat alone, hanging over our heads all week long, is enough to remind me that spring isn't here yet. That didn't stop us from playing the garden today, though. We spent the morning inside, closing up some of our Africa exploration, getting the laundry done (in ancient Egypt, I'm told, they may have done their laundry in the Nile, so watch out for that hippo), and practicing piano. I hit the treadmill, we had lunch, we made it to the library to sort books, and when we returned in the mid afternoon the weather was sunny and warm enough to beckon us to look for new shoots, feed the birds, and check our backyard gardening.

Some of the tulips are here, just pushing their noses through the cold, wet earth, and a handful of other plants are starting to green up, but the trees are reserving their splendor just yet and I can only hope the three newest will eventually join the party. All our backyard work from last summer seems to have wintered well; the new sump pump routes are holding their own and thanks to them the lawn and gardens are drier than in any other spring we've lived here (which is to say that our backyard is not a swamp this spring). And as we strolled through our yard we heard our first Sandhill Crane call of the year. They are back and have hopefully brought warmer weather behind them. Spring isn't here, but her promise is.