spring is trying to come...

I walked out of work yesterday, and it was literally the first time in months that I'd headed home in daylight. OK, admittedly, I left a little earlier than usual -- before 6 because we were going to a play -- but still. In the dead of winter, it starts to get dark before 4. And I'm waking up in brighter light, too. Cool.

Yesterday was also St. Patrick's day, a date when everyone in this area -- blacks, Jews, Italians and more -- is Irish. Many people wore green, even me (on whom it looks hideous). It was a nice change from the muddy earthtones we typically wear all winter.

However, this year, the snow drops are late. Some years, they bloom as early as late January. This year, they're still buried under the snow, with more snow predicted for Sunday, the first day of spring. I planted them to commemorate Mark's death date, so I'm more aware than I might be that they're typically in bloom on March 9.

And not one peep yet from my favorite sign of spring -- the spring peeper. These tiny creatures start making noise just as the wetlands and ponds start to melt and look to stay unfrozen. At first, they sound like they're trilling. As spring lengthens and summer starts, they (or their replacements, I'm not sure) develop deeper and deeper voices, so that over a season, they go from high soprano to deep bass. I call it a froggy singles bar -- pick me! no, pick me! hey baby, let me fertilize your eggs, and so on. Something else to look forward to.

That, and my flowering trees and bushes. The magnolia has been ready for a while -- its got big fat, fuzzy buds, just waiting for longer weather. I'll also look forward to greeting the bulb flowers, and eventually the phlox and trillium.