But start it has, and I'm grateful. Spring means several things (besides wished for warmer temperatures), including my precious mom's birthday -- she turned 82 last week -- and my parents' anniversary. This year it was their 60th, an amazing milestone that had our whole family celebrating and feeling baskets full of gratitude for days.
Today is my own birthday, and despite the continued cold temperatures and my ongoing cough, congestion, and plain old tiredness, the gratitude continues.
The sweet girl and I spotted the first crocuses of the year more than two weeks ago, but I didn't get around to writing my annual crocus poem until last week, and then I never had a chance to post it. I thought I would celebrate today by keeping up this tiny tradition:
Seventeen crocuses bright in the cold,
Their petals so purple, their yellow hearts bold.
Though winter decided to have one more fling,
It couldn’t quite stop the onrush of spring.
If you want to see some of the crocus poems from earlier years, click on the "crocus" tag below the post.
And don't forget to read some Robert Frost poems in honor of his birthday today too. He's a tad bit older than I am, born in 1874. I think he's looking pretty good for 140!