春の雪

This is perhaps the most dilatory spring in recent memory. I did see a forsythia in bloom last week, but it was literally a forsythia, as in one blossom on an entire shrub. The only bush or tree in bloom on my entire route to work is one witch hazel in South Evanston. (The one I planted on the hellstrip--the only one of the 18 saplings I planted two years ago to survive--is still not so much as budding.) We've had snowdrops and squill for a while and even daffodils since last week, but that's where things have stalled.

The snow hasn't helped. I didn't think we'd have any accumulation from Sunday night's storm, but we did end up with a scant inch that was gone by evening in all but the shadiest spots (including the vegetable patches out back). It was surprising enough to have snow on the ground a week earlier, but a colleague did remind me that the winters have been getting pretty steadily milder over the years. An April snow twenty years ago wouldn't have been as much of a marvel.

The cold seems to have pushed poor Fig over the edge. He told me recently that, one way or another, he plans to relocate permanently to NC next year. We see each other little enough as it is (he did make it to the last cocktail night, but with so many sparklies there we hardly chatted) and that would as good as kill the relationship. Or maybe it would be what it takes to convince me to fly out there, I don't know.