Spring Thinking

This morning I had a notion to get something done. It happens, sometimes.

Most of the drawers of the cabinet closest to the back door were at that point where I had to push and pull at the contents in the hope of putting my hand on the object of my search. And as for the rhyme and reason of what went where--forget about it. 

Sure enough, the first drawer yielded several rulers--including an old-fashioned foldable 6-footer--twist ties by the dozens, two magic markers, two small flashlights, plant labels, a lens cleaning cloth, and tools. Screwdrivers, pliers, an all-purpose tool, a compass, and a small hammer.  Oh, and several short pieces of rope cut at some point for some important task. No doubt. 

More to my liking were the daffodils blooming out back. The Texas quince were flowering as well. So, that whole hope thing. Eternal or not, I could not say. But the return of flowers to the landscape means a lot to me.

I am no fan of winter. I don't want it cold. I don't want cold rain. I don't want a cold wind. Wuss or wimp, perhaps so. But I lived through eleven Minnesota winters, so I don't care what the verdict may be.

By the end of the month I will start pruning. Kneecap the knockouts. Shape up the tea olives. Take a little off the top on the nandinas. Work on crapes, the maples, the elms. The hollies, too. Maybe a week or so later, I'll take the butterfly bushes and the Roses of Sharon down hard. 

Each spring's approach I take to heart even closer Housman's insight that "fifty springs are little room". I do wonder, will I see my cherry trees bloom this season. How many more springs ahead. 

The Yoshino buds are swelling.

Just after sunset two dozen robins hopped about out back.

Another good sign, or so I think.