Spring On Hold…

Well yesterday was the Vernal Equinox, the official start of spring. I opened the curtains to welcome the new day and what did I see?…. Snow! falling from the heavens and settling on the garden. Fortunately it had all melted by midday although temperatures were nippy to say the least. 

Dreaming of Spring :o)

Today we are 1 day into ‘spring’ and what do you thing the met office has forecast over the next 48 hours? 

Yip. Snow! Not just a little bit of snow, but around 20cm + is expected in our neck of the woods. It is set to arrive in the early hours Friday morning, just in time for rush hour traffic. Apparently we can expect blizzard like conditions until around 11am and then light snow until the evening. Then mother nature steps it up a notch and intensifies the whole orchestrated movement. *sigh* I do love the snow, and secretly I am a little excited about seeing that magical winter wonderland outside again.

February Snowfall

But my green fingers are itching to get into the garden again and my heart is longing to see spring bulbs blooming. The Daffodils along the drive are still refusing to open. Perhaps they knew all along that winter was not quite over.

Anyhoo, spring remains in my heart and the spring cleaning bug bit this morning, all the windows got a thorough wash inside and out :o). And Under An English Sky got a spring make-over too! I love the delicate pink and green theme. 

Did you know that today is International Poetry Day? I heard it mentioned on the radio this morning. I think that a poem to finish off the post is quite in order and one that speaks of Daffodils all the more fitting as I wait for mine to burst open and show their cheery faces.

DAFFODILS

William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’re vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd, –

A host of golden daffodils

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I, at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay

In such jocund company;

I gazed – and gazed – but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie,

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.