I love spring. Daffodils are my favorite flower, because they signal the beginnings of a new year of possibilities, and the end of a winter season that always last just a little too long. So Mom e-mailed me the other day, and mentioned how the daffodils are blooming and spring has sprung down in Houston..
I look at the calendar. Here in the Springs, we are at least 2 months from Daffodils downtown , closer to 3 months at our house, and I daren't even think about what to plant in my outdoor flowerpots until at least Mother's Day.
Now, the trade-off is that I won't be drowning in my own sweat and dying from mosquito bites from May to October, and I get year round sunshine, much more than nearly every other sizable city in the country... so even the winter here is usually pretty nice. So 95% of the year I know I've got the better deal.
But for the next week, as winter here gets old, and I long to put down my convertible's top (instead, I drove carefully through the icy streets to work this morning.), and I'm taunted by tales of springs appearance elsewhere, I'm just a little depressed by the brown grasses, and desperately seeking some sign of fresh spring-green shoots popping out of the mulch.