I always wonder what it must be like to live somewhere without seasons like we have here in New England. The world around me is changing in tiny increments with each passing day – suddenly the Sun is warm enough to melt the snow even when the temperature remains below the freezing point and it hasn’t dipped below the horizon when my cats start to beg me for dinner. I long for warm Spring afternoons and the smell of lilacs and magnolia and the hum of the bees as they go about their business. It is easy to think that May or June are the best months of the year – I’m a May baby so I am particular partial – but as I grow older, I have developed a particular appreciation for the month of March. It may not be Spring in full bloom here in the frozen North, but it brings with it the first hints of Spring just at the very point that we need it the most. Oh yes, and with it come the tulips.
Sure, not the outdoor bulbs that will arrive in April in May, but in one weeks time begins the annual Spring Flower shows at many of the local greenhouses in my area. Forced bulbs or no, they are the heart of Springtime in a barely heated room and a wash of color at a time when I think that I cannot bare to take a single more image of snow and ice. They are where I rediscover Springtime all over again every year.