Each year, I anxiously anticipate the arrival of spring.
As the first slender green blades of my daffodils stretch gleefully through the thick blanket of the remnants of winter, my anticipation mounts.
Though the little guardian of my cottage garden fondly dreams of warmer days, he seems totally unaware of the process of the rebirth that has begun just below him.
With every passing day, I observe more of the lovely spires emerging all around the cottage, breaking forth from the once dormant earth, reaching adoringly toward the warmth of the sun.
Then, quite unexpectedly, the first spear-shaped buds appear.
Almost without warning, a solitary bloom explodes into vibrant color.
Soon, that solitary messenger is followed by an entire host of newcomers…
who dance merrily along the edge of the pump house…
and wave a cheerful greeting all along our oak allée.
In unison, they bow and curtsey to visitors who wander on to the old wooden path leading to the front porch…
all the while, heralding the wonderful news that spring is at the door.
Indeed, a most welcomed guest!
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