Yesterday, inches of sloppy wet stow covered the roads. Thought most had melted by noon today, there was still enough on the north side of the street to reflect bright light into my windows. High in the sixties. Tomorrow, it might make it to the seventies. In some places in the country, this would be a sign of spring, but here, it’s just a tease. There is snow forecast for Wednesday. March is our snowiest month, but if it’s warmer than usual, the crocus and even the daffodils might sneak out too early only to be strangled in the snow. And even later, the tulips will suffer the same fate. Stems weakened in their prime, not given the chance to slowly open, stretch and fall petal by petal..
When my husband told me he was going to the nursery today, I went along. The last time I was there was Mother’s Day. Free hot dogs, live music, and lines 30 minutes longs. A riot of blossoms hanging from pots. Today it was nearly empty and the flower pots are recently planted, waiting to grow. Only the violets were blooming, those tough beauties. Tucked in the back of the store was a small orchid show, almost embarrassing for the sensual shapes and smells of the flowers.
My husband bought seeds. He wont even try to start them inside for another month, but we are impatient. Kale, canning cucumbers, and tomatoes. He wants to start some from seed in a bedroom window, and I admire his optimism, though I expect he will fail. I picked out some bright pink morning glory that will either overtake my bed or never come up at all.
But there is hope in these packages.
Enjoy some Orchids: