As a gardener dying for that first hint of spring, those bright tulip colors popping up in an otherwise forgotten landscape, the sign of shadows changing shape as sunshine changes course, you'd think I'd be miserable. We've been waiting for winter weather, well, all winter. Now, for the past two weeks as spring peeks through the dormant foliage everywhere, winter has decided it's not done yet.
Tulip bulbs were literally just blushing their true colors when last week's blizzard hit. We hurriedly got them all covered up with garden plastic to weather the storm. Towards the end of the week, we uncovered them, watched them come back to life and stretch upwards again. This time of year, the sun shines down on the yard in ways that resemble spotlights, highlighting sections of our outside space that have been hiding in the dark for a few months, reminding us how beautiful it all will be again in a few more. We spent the weekend in the garden, weeding, whistling, and sowing new plants to nourish us later in the season.
Today, however, winter is back. I just re-covered all of the now blooming tulips, draped sheets over the tender lilac buds which were fooled into popping out early and battened down the hatches on the chicken coop. By this afternoon, we're at about five inches of snow and counting.
If you ask any of our local friends, we're all "cranky" at the continuing onslaught, "over it", "ready for spring already!" We all know we need the moisture. We all just wish it would come in the form of spring rain, instead of the continual weight of snow, oppressing all things bright, cheery, hopeful and green.
With the peer pressure of every one's disillusioned sentiments towards old man winter, it's hard, but necessary, to hide the smile inside as I shovel the sidewalks...again. When I moved here, I thought snow was snow was snow. I've since learned that there are different types of storms and to be sure, some I do not like at all.
However, there are those perfect snow storms. The stuff of snow globes, winter paintings, holiday carols, and the simple, quiet beauty of Japanese wood block snow scenes. The flakes just keep falling in a thick blanket, straight down to the ground. The sheet of white blurs the views outside our windows and coats the world in soft, fluffy chills.
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Koitsu-Spring Snow at Maruyama park
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As a family, we've been tested a lot. By now, I've spent months of my life trying to see the positive in situations that seem anything but. It could be that I've just brainwashed myself into that mindset, but I don't think so. I still believe it's important to remember, even when you're being dealt a blow (and my beloved spring flowers are suffering right now, I assure you), that there is something to be grateful for in it all. And with that, there is hope that there's good to come.
I'm grateful that neither of us had to drive in this storm. I'm grateful for the moisture that is sure to quench our garden's burgeoning thirst and help out our drought-laden state this summer. And, I'm grateful for the fact that despite the damage already done to this year's springtime display, I'm finding some peace and beauty in this storm. For those of you not "suffering" through this storm with us, let me tell ya, she's a knockout. Just don't tell anyone I said that. As I watch my plants fall victim to this deluge, I have a reputation as a devoted gardener to protect.
