In May, just days ago it seems, I felt summer on my skin, inhaled its warm scents and, responding to familiar cues, started pulling out summer clothes. Now early June feels like spring again. What a topsy turvy time this is…after winter before summer.
Gardening or keeping potted plants was not for my mother as I grew up, but in later years she tended an hydrangea bush and tidied her yard. Everyday I remember her, sometimes pondering the things she left behind.
In my corner of the world, spring progresses slowly. Grass is greening and mowers are being pulled out of garages. Bulbs show leaves above the brown debris of dormant flower beds and above…the blush of red, pink and green buds wash the sky.
It’s six days before Easter. Around the house all traces of snow are gone, replaced by puddles, hints of new green, grey, yellow and brown. Today by the porch, the first tulip tips are peeking from the earth and two roads away, red tree buds are out.