There comes a day every year when you wake up with the sun streaming through the window - quite often there is birdsong involved, too. You jump out of bed with alacrity instead of your usual surly sluggishness and think, "It's time to go outside!"
Regardless of what the calendar tells you, this is the First Day of Spring.
It came late for me this year, but when it hit this morning it hit hard. I weeded 2 1/2 flower beds before the rain finally drove me back indoors (it was gorgeous when I went out, but Oregon springs are notoriously fickle). This isn't even a drop in the bucket of what remains to be done - we have a huge yard and a lot of container plants, too - but it's a start.
Gardening, like everything else in life, works better when you spend about half the time actually doing the work and the other half sitting back on your heels entertaining grand fantasies about what you would like to do next. I have visions of moss, this year, and splashes of red astilbe against yellow daylilies. I want to find a mail-order source for nasturtiums so I can truly plant them everywhere. The little maple didn't survive that last ice storm . . . maybe a tree rose, in its place?
During intermission we went to the feed store and discovered it was Peep Season - and in addition to the usual chickens, ducks, geese and turkeys there were quail, chukar and pheasants. We were sorely tempted - especially by the quail, quail chicks are chipmunk-striped and about the size of walnuts! - but we're already over our Urban Fowl limit so we resisted.
This winter was long and hard, but spring has come (as it always does if you wait long enough). The Earth seemed completely barren but now it's teeming with new life, as the daffodils, crocus, tulips and hyacinth all bloom together as if they're afraid they'll miss something. There's finally ground-in dirt under my fingernails again . . .
. . . and it feels great!