Despite the National Weather Service’s warning that a boatload of snow was headed our way last night, we woke to only three inches this morning.
Vinca blooming among the snow. May 11, 2021
And they were incorrect again when they predicted a whole bunch more snow this afternoon. It did snow quite hard at times, but it didn’t stick. It’s been a mix of rain and snow and more rain. And rain beats melts snow.
The trees and shrubs are intact. Hallelujah!
It’s rainy and gray outside, but I’m not complaining. The alternative was a huge snowstorm which, fortunately, the forecasters seem to be walking back. While we do need moisture, rain would be much kinder to the new leaves on trees and shrubs. I don’t want any of them destroyed by a heavy winter snowstorm; the blooming crabapple trees are currently quite lovely.
American White Pelican, Barr Lake State Park. April 8, 2021
So right now I’m content with the rainy-gray as I think back on last month’s pelican-rich day that also happened to be sunny and warm.
May 7, 2021
Tulip in decline
petals collapsing inward
splendid ’til the end
I took this photo a year ago today. As I recall, it was a balmy day filled with bird songs and busy bees. We were in the early days of the pandemic and communing with backyard nature was balm for my soul.
April 27, 2020
Today, plenty of birds are singing on this cool and rainy day. However, the shrub in the photo is behind last year’s schedule –buds still folded up tight –and I’ve yet to see a bee in the yard. We’re still experiencing a global pandemic, but the blooms and bees are on their way. And when they arrive, I’ll be out there again, drinking in all their glory.
I received my second Pfizer dose today and while I rest on the couch, feeling depleted, the nine-plus inches of snow continues to melt outside.
April 16, 2021
This is all a temporary setback. Spring is happening no matter what and soon the maple tree and I will be in full bloom.
April 25, 2016.
I’m really, really hoping my iris bloom this year despite the various snowstorms and freezes. I really, really need the boost. Until then, I will bask in the glory of these beauties from nearly four years ago.
Come on iris, please do your thing!
“Look up at the miracle of the falling snow, – the air a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world . . .”
~ John Burroughs from The Snow-Walkers
View from my kitchen window. April 16, 2020.
American Robin. February 14, 2020.
You have to believe in happiness,
Or happiness never comes …
Ah, that’s the reason a bird can sing –
On his darkest day he believes in Spring.
~ Douglas Malloch
Lilac bloom on May 17, 2018.
The thermometer currently reads 18 degrees. The sky is gray. It’s snowing and blowing, and is forecast to continue like that through tomorrow morning. I try to live in the moment, to be mindful and present in my life. But right now, in this moment, I’m looking ahead to spring and lilacs in bloom.
Fight me, Pema Chödrön.
It’s snowing right now. Two days ago it was 70 degrees. Why must Colorado weather be so erratic? Where’s my sunshine? My warmth? Where has spring gone to hide?
While I await its return, here are some springtime clematis blooms from several years ago.
Spring, please hurry on back!
Thank you!
Love,
Tracy
A few minutes ago I was working in my front yard, sowing death and destruction via my homemade weed killer (white vinegar, salt, and dish soap), while feeling frustrated and worn out by neverending garden demands. I was dreaming of a full-time gardener. Or better yet, a tiny house and one pot of geraniums. Or maybe a barrel of gasoline and a match to make it all go away.
Then I hit PAUSE on my grumpiness and focused on some blooming tulips.
It really is a wonderful thing to survive a long, dark, cold, snowy winter and be rewarded with colorful flowers. I’m still dreaming of my own gardener, but in the meantime I’m gonna try to appreciate the beauty poking through the tangled, weedy mess that is my front yard.
Happy first day of spring! It’s a beautiful day in the Denver metro area, but I was inside for most of it as I struggled with my work-for-hire project. Late this afternoon I stepped away from my computer and went outside to run around the neighborhood multiple times. First loop was with my short-legged doggo who is sometimes more an anchor than a running partner. So I dropped her off at the house and went out again.
Post-runn photo by Zippy
I’m feeling so much better now. Running for the win!
This is what was happening in my front yard nearly a year ago today.
There needs to be some serious growth taking place in the next two days if the tulip wants to debut on the same day this year.
Spoiler alert: I don’t think it’s gonna happen.
Spring is here and I’m fighting the urge to hide in the house rather than face the green that’s showing. It ain’t easy, though, when that green belongs to weeds determined to take over the yard.
Tap roots are the absolute worst, yo.
Music comes from an icicle as it melts,
to live again as spring water.
~ Henry Williamson
Today is frigid
and it’s just the beginning.
Eye on the spring prize.
What a difference a day makes.
They unfurled their blooms
then snow fell like wet cement.
The iris prevailed.
Yesterday, the forecast said it would start snowing this evening. Instead, I woke to smothered flowers and shrubs in my front and back yards. I spent more than an hour outside with a broom, clearing snow from collapsed lilac bushes and apache plume shrubs. I’m probably going to lose my iris display this year. Again. And forget about the poppies.
Sigh.
The finches are handling it pretty well. We’d already called it a season and brought in the long extension cord that heats the bird bath, so that’s a bummer. I filled the dish with hot water this morning and the water has already turned slushy.
The snow’s supposed to continue through Friday and then on Saturday? This:
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Happiness held is the seed;
happiness shared is the flower.
~ John Harrigan
I just photographed this iris, the first to bloom in any of my gardens this year. This was also the first iris to bloom last year. I’m very happy to witness its delicate beauty again. And I’m also happy to share it here.
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Today’s post is brought to you by people who no longer live here. The first tulip was planted by former neighbors, but not when we were gardening side-by-side. Rather, they did one of their infamous “drive-by plantings” when we weren’t looking, and gifted us some miniature tulips.
The next tulip is a senior citizen and was planted by the former owners of our house. Next month, we’ll have lived here 20 years.
That red flower is a lesson in being beautifully tenacious.
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Tracy Abell 