Hello April. Surprise me!

Ah, sunny dandelion, you harbinger of spring!

As I write this...

The Midwest and South are bracing for wicked storms that include winds up to 70 m.p.h., damaging hail, rain, flooding, tornadoes...well, move over El Nino, it's spring!  

I was thinking as I walked this morning that spring always seems to come in hard, teasing with a few warm summer-like days, mild enough to fool the daffodils into emerging and the trees into setting buds. The kind of days that make me reach for sandals instead of boots.

Then, WHAM!

My folks in Laramie, Wyoming got 8 inches of snow yesterday and we're forecast for a week of rainy, stormy weather!  (For which I am secretly THRILLED!)  

Daffodils, the bravest of spring flowers, glow
in morning sunshine.

Weather forecasters here are always reminding us that April is the 

2nd snowiest month.

(Would you believe March is our best month for snow?)  

April is a changeable month, full of surprises--not all bad--but unpredictable to the point that when I leave for a day of errands I throw in a coat with gloves, a jacket with lighter gloves and a down vest--just to make sure I have choices no matter what the weather appears to be doing at the time I leave.

I dress for the temperature, certainly, but especially for the WIND, which can be considerable even on a bright sunny blue-sky day--the kind we take for granted in Colorado because they are so "normal."

On my walk along the Cache la Poudre
River, this blooming bush gets my
"Early-Blooming Award!"

"Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart; I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilacs, the violets and the roses, as at 20 years ago."

                     --  Victor Hugo

Five years ago, the first spring in Windsor, I bought a small
strawberry plant and placed it in my Secret Garden.  It loves
this space and is prolific, finding new ways to conquer new
territory--to the sweet delight of the birds who eat berries.

A newly added water gauge proves to be a very helpful resource.

Spring, especially April and May, also brings new water to the Cache la Poudre River.  Whether from spring rains or fresh from the melting snow high atop the Rockies, banks begin to disappear as water becomes deeper, faster and more unpredictable. 

(As a driftwood artist, I look at it as new inventory arriving daily and can't wait to see what the river will bring me this year!)

Looking at the snow-capped Rocky Mountains from the steps of the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park last week.

The Cache la Poudre River begins to spill into channels, dry
during winter, brimming with water in April.

 "April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain."

-T.S. Eliot
"The Waste Land"

Living and dead, the eternal circle, is so apparent
when the color green emerges.

And, so, as winter packs the last of its belongings, spring is already impatiently pounding on the door, ready to take occupancy.

As for me, I'm not quite ready to unplug the snow blower nor am I going to indulge in mindless meanderings through nurseries browsing perennials and other donations to the bunnies.  

I haven't yet tackled "getting the gardens into shape"--whatever that means.  I hesitate to snip and prune just in case Jack Frost is also planning a surprise visit.  

I think I'll save that job for May when we are closer to summer than to spring--and spring's unruly predecessor winter.

My Bleeding Hearts were blooming last week during the height
of Winter Storm Vexo!

"The lilac branches are bowed under the weight of the flowers:  blooming is hard, and the most important thing this is--to bloom."
--YevgenyZamyatin
("A Story About The Most Important Thing")

I read once that no is promised another Lilac Season so I take every opportunity to enjoy
lilacs every season and inhale deeply the sweet perfume of spring.