I can see a spot of color from my view outside my kitchen window.
Swollen buds, I don’t know if they are leaves or flowers, are visible on the tree outside our kitchen door.
The cheerful pansies I planted yesterday beckon me outside to look for signs of spring.
I marvel at the contrast between the soft bright color of the pansies as they catch the morning sun, and the barren woods behind with its long shadows.
Mark’s garden below the deck with its freshly turned rich brown soil is a sign of spring. It hides the seeds he planted yesterday. They wait for water and sun, like little parcels of power from which green shoots bearing vegetables will appear.
My St. Francis Garden is showing signs of life shooting forth from the brown dried leaves and stems yet to be cleared away. Perhaps I’ll do that today.
The irises are inching upwards on schedule for their May parade.
Bunches of daffodils are ready to turn, one morning, into a riot of bright yellow.
Soon. Maybe today.
The hyacinths with their sweet, at times piercing, fragrance are preparing to bloom.
The bright spot of color I saw from my kitchen window is in fact daffodils, as I suspect you guessed. The first to bloom. They are the best harbringer of spring in my garden because, unlike tulips which never made it past a few inches of green before being eaten, the deer won’t touch them.
This year I outsmarted the deer. I planted tulips in a pot on our deck. One of two things will happen. The deer will walk up onto my deck, or I will have tulips.
Are you seeing signs of spring?