Spring Flowers

One of the best things about spring hereabouts is the week when there is a carpet of tiny blue flowers along the street behind ours. Whole yards are filled with them. They pop up almost over night, linger a few days, then the grass overtakes them and they disappear for another year.

Every year I swear I'm going to take their photo. And every year until now I haven't managed. But today I went out between rainstorms and captured them.

Now maybe I can send their picture to the ag extension office and ask what they are. No one here seems to know -- and we have avid gardeners in this neighborhood. I'd think they'd know, but they don't.

The rest of spring is not far behind. Three days ago the first leaves on the lilacs opened just a smidgen. The daffodils are halfway up, their yellow heads, though, are still pretty tightly closed. Another week and they'll be splashes of bright color. They almost always coincide with my oldest son's birthday. His flower, we used to tell him when he was little.

This time of year, the still mostly bare trees with buds growing larger every day, the muddy ground with shoots just poking up, the grass just turning more green than brown reminds me of a first draft. There are hints of what is to come. There is promise, potential. There is also the chance of a killing frost.

Flynn and Sara had their killing frost last week when I threw out a quarter of the book. Well, really all the book that wasn't totally rough. But that's because they couldn't survive the way they were. They'd been a hothouse plant over the winter, coddled and pampered for months. But when they had to stand up out in the cool windy world, they didn't make it. Not the way they were. It happens.

The stronger plants -- like the stronger stories -- survive. I'm thinking this one is going to make it. I just hope it's blooming by the first of May!

Keep your fingers crossed. Send showers (not cloudbursts) and warm (not baking) temps our way. And hope that my life this month is not full of distractions.