Spring has sprung

Spring starts off slow, almost imperceptibly. The days get a little longer; the weeds start to grow. Then suddenly it's upon us and the rate of change accelerates exponentially. The earliest shrubs start to bloom, a few wildflowers appear in the grass, and the weeds shoot up overnight. The daffodils bloom, the forsythia starts in, and fruit trees flower, soon to be followed by redbuds, lilacs, and dogwoods as spring races through it's full repertoire at an ever-increasing pace driven by the biological imperative to produce seeds that may spout and grow into something that can get established enough by fall to make it through the next winter. Spring is forward looking and fast-acting. Blink and you miss it. He who hesitates is lost. 

We've grown slow and sluggish through the winter. Spring is here to wake things up and it doesn't tread lightly or whisper. Spring stomps around with rain and thunder, like a mother calling upstairs to get her kids out of bed, insisting, not suggesting, that it's time to rise and shine. Spring is a call to action, there is no time to waste, no burning daylight, you can sleep when you're dead. It's the time to do something, anything, even if it fails. Sow a seed, plant a tree, prove that hope springs eternal. 

Saucer magnolia, or tulip magnolia, in the center of our driveway.

Some years it blooms so early that it's flowers get frozen.

Looks like it's going to be ok this year.

Daffodils along the road in the front of our house,

forsythia in the far corner.

Ornamental cherry in our front yard.

A patch of wildflowers in the pasture.

This is purple deadnettle. It forms a large, beautiful mound and

provides food for early pollinators. 

These little flowers bloom en masse in our front yard.

I need to mow the tall grass now, the flowers are short enough that

they will survive the mowing and show off even more.

I planted this forsythia when we first moved here.