Inevitable
Spring has been lurching into the northwest this year like a Tourette’s ballerina, in the inconstant element of air, anyway. The more reliable Earth, however, is pushing it inexorably forth. Mrs. Perils (and I along with her) is often drawn to a remarkable property a few blocks from the house that harbors a barely-manicured yard under a canopy of large trees. She is particularly drawn, at this time of year, to these lilies:
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Our local atmospheric vagaries are also no match for the celestial inertia of the Big Bang, and despite April snow flurries, sunset comes incrementally later each day. One of these days we’ll awake, blinking, to the prospect of a 70-degree day that is the progeny of a 35-degree night, and only then (choose to) notice that the lawn has needed mowing for a month.
Well, you can’t be expected to go out and mow when it’s snowing, can you?
What a great post. I am eagerly awaiting the first crocus of spring.
I heard that March was the coldest on record, in 117 years of recordkeeping. It certainly seemed cold, wet, dismal, and dreary to me. Yes, to mowing and to weeding, and to finally having warm enough temps to entice us out and getting to it.