Snow on Daffodils

A few weeks ago, it was Spring. Officially, of course, on March 20th, when the sun crossed the Equator on its way north. About 2 weeks after that, it was summer here. Not calendrical summer, of course, but with the sun beating down on us and temperatures pushing 85 degrees - of course that's summer, isn't it?

At around the time of the equinox, there was a spell of quite pleasant, mild weather - sunny, a warm southwest breeze, temperatures climbing into the 60s and even the lower 70s in the odd warm spot. This lasted about 5 days before the weather turned off cold and rainy-snowy again. We had quite a lot of rain, though not as much as RI and coastal MA. No floods here to speak of - only what is common in springtime.

After the hard rains blew out to sea, we hit another warm spell. Not warm - HOT. Even the cool, sheltered hollows were in the low 70s, and the broad, sunny valleys climbed into the mid and upper 80s. It was glorious. People came outdoors the way ladybugs appear in the springtime, reveling in the return of warmth. Obscenely loud motorcycles filled the roads. Convertible tops were folded back.

Snow shrank and disappeared, and rivers rose. Buds popped on the lilacs and popples, and maples bloomed, putting an end to the sugaring season. Coltsfoot emerged through the crust of sand and dirt on the roadsides, dusting the ground with gold, and daffodils and forsythia burst into golden bloom. Birds came back - song sparrows, white-throated sparrows, chipping sparrows, phoebes, swallows, blackbirds.

Of course we all knew it would not last. April is nothing if not fickle, and about a week after the summer-like warmth had begun, it ended. Clouds rolled in and the wind turned from SW to NW, and it began to rain.

The weather since then has been unsettled - some cool, brisk days, with a thin, sharp wind that cuts away any warmth the sun might provide; dark, lowering days of rain and fog; a couple of winter-cold days, with ice on the bird bath and wet snowflakes plopping to the ground. Higher places are dusted with a fresh coating of snow; some places got as much as 4 inches.

This morning I took pity on a daffodil. It had sprouted up and budded just at the end of the warm spell, and had opened its flower to cold wind and cloudy skies. it looked cheerful despite the chill, a little, single splash of bright yellow against the soggy brown of last year's fallen leaves. Two nights ago, however, it snowed - not enough to stick, but enough to bend the poor daff until its golden head was lying on the leaves.

I passed it a couple of times, feeling sorry for it, but today I could stand it no longer. Something - wind, a scuttling mouse, a scratching bird - had kicked some leaves up and nearly buried the flower, so I picked it, and now it is standing up in a glass of water on the kitchen counter. Not in its natural home, but once again with its head up.

That's April. Sweet and fickle, blowing hot and cold, promising and then denying. Snow on daffodils.