For those of you still buried under snow, I know this will sound a little like whining. You’re so ready for Spring, bless your hearts.
But after a snowfall the sun usually pops out and glistens on the white. Least it did where we lived in Colorado.
Winter around here isn’t like that. Clouds block the sun and skies turn dark and dreary for days and weeks. In the Pacific NW that’s acceptable. After repeated days and days of it here, I miss the sun.
Punxsutawney Peter promised spring was coming.
Not sure I trust a ground hog way up there in Pennsylvania to accurately predict things down here in Texas.
My Japanese tulip tree believed old Petey. It’s loaded with purple blooms.
But the dreary rainy days are dragging on. I was giving up hope and calling Punxsutawney not-so-nice names.
Then this happened.
The long missing sun slipped over the trees and through the blinds to grid my worktable, which used to serve as our dining table. (The tale about why table is no longer used for dining I’ll save for another day.)
Hope fluttered to life in my heart. Spring is coming.
And, someone remind me about this when I’m complaining about the heat in July and August.
Spring will happen. Depend on it.