Showing posts with label snowdrops. Show all posts
Showing posts with label snowdrops. Show all posts

Friday, 25 February 2011

Just-spring


According to the BBC weather website,
we've had 30-40% less sunshine
than usual
in January and February.
I would say that it has felt 40% grayer;
yes, at least that.

Cheers for a day of "sunny intervals."


Cheers for snowdrops
and purple crocuses.

Is it purple prose to say
that English spring is paved with flowers?

Here comes the first wave.


the snowdrops are nearly as dense
as the drifts of snow
for which they are named.


I've been coming here every February
for years.  
And never, never has the sun shone.
It's usually quite a shivery experience,
cold hands and chapped cheeks,
but today we took tea outside.


The many visitors,
mostly old and young,
did mostly obey the dictates
to keep off the grass.

But there were a few rule-breakers.
Keen photographers will do anything
to capture their prey.


Wellies are an absolute must,
as the mud to grass ratio
(not to mention the temperature)
does not favor bare feet just yet.
I did hear this, though:
Mom, can I take off my coat?


It's still February, of course
and the sun is a big tease
because rain will be back tomorrow.
But just for today, it is Just-spring
and the world is not just muddy,
but mudluscious


For those who could not resist
fresh spring green
and the year's first warmth
there was one grassy verge.

I wonder which child
first had the notion
to roll down it?



I was almost tempted, too,
to try my forwards roll.
Long forgotten skills:
Let's dust them off
and bring them out
for spring.


In two more weeks
there will be an explosion of daffodils --
always a more reliable source of yellow
than the sun, in spring.


Wednesday, 17 February 2010

Snowdrops


It seems that nearly everyone in the Northern Hemisphere
has had too much snow this winter
(except, perhaps, Vancouver).
In England,
February is a tug-of-war
between winter and spring.
All week long, we've had shafts of sunlight
playing peek-a-boo
with volleys of hail,
and flurries of snow,
and sheets of sleet.


Never mind the frigid temperatures,
spring will eventually get the upper hand.
Snow-like they may be,
but these galanthus
are the first bulbs out of the starting gate.
Autumn leaves,
it's your turn to sink into the earth.


So soon now, the gray of winter


will be replaced by spring green.


February is a pointillist painter,
adding a swathe of yellow aconites
to winter's monochrome palette.


Not the showiest flower,
it's true,
but so refreshing.