Snowdrops, wide swaths of them, blanketed portions of the Southwest Corridor Park like spotty patches of snow. They have always demanded closer inspection, and as I squatted down to take in their beauty, I wondered why I’d never bothered planting them – the perennial regret I have whenever the spring bulbs are in bloom. Summer erases such regret, spoiling me with its color and floriferous excess, so that by the time fall arrives I’m no longer bothering much about something as simple as a snowdrop. Shame on me for such wanton behavior; it’s not characteristic to throw an opportunity for planning away so easily… must look into that.
These little bulbs were making a very early show of it this year, blooming in the midst of February (I still remember a couple of Boston winters where the entirety of the snow piles sometimes didn’t completely melt until June). And they say climate change isn’t real, well, idiots say that anyway…
Andy looked at the weather forecast for today and remarked that March may be coming in like a lamb. As long as it keeps its lamb-like qualities and doesn’t pull a lion out of its hat nearer the end of the month, we’ll be ok with the milder switch.
