Counting the Blessings of a Sunless Spring

Which, first and foremost, makes me think I am back in Ireland, because daffodils have been in bloom since Easter, and are still going strong.  The tulips will follow on their heels, who knows when, but if this weather persists will bloom all of May.

The one summer I spent in Dublin, a rose in the neighbor’s front yard bloomed all of six weeks. I believe, because the searing sun’s rays never hit its fragile petals. Until then, I never realized how destructive the sun can be.

The magnolia tree outside my library window has been trying to bloom for about as long as the daffodils have been. 

Usually, we have some awful frost, but it is my own fault: planting a magnolia tree in this climate is the purest form of wanting roses in winter, which Shakespeare himself warned against.

While it has been chilly, only the wind, admittedly brutal some days keeps one out of the garden. The peas are up, and in the break between showers yesterday I fenced them from the rabbits. The leeks, cabbage, kohlrabi and other cool season crops are in, so I am counting my blessings.

Also reveling in the pure yellow of the willow trees south and west of the house, which are sometimes, in sunny springs only that brilliant bright yellow for a week in sunny springs.