Slower than Molasses

Waiting for spring to come to New England is indeed slower than molasses. A rather apropos analogy since afterall this is maple country.

The earliest indication that winter is "almost" over is the arrival of the robins. Never before have I been so thrilled to see the little orange-breasted critters as I am each March. Heck, before moving up here I never knew they even went away. Alas, the early thrill is rather short-lived, as it's not long before you see them trying to peck through 6-inches of snow to get to their buried snacks.

But then finally after several weeks of watching and waiting, and then more waiting, and more waiting - the forsythia blooms with a vengence. Like unruly school kids yanking off their jackets and tossing their books away, the brilliant yellow spikes are wild and bright!

Seemingly overnight, everywhere you look, the real sign of spring is forced in your face - at times almost too brilliant to look at. In fact, the drearier the day, the brighter the blossoms. Their backdrop being the dark green of the firs and spruces, and the grays and muted browns of the still to bud trees.

Some shrubs have been tamed into box-like structures to frame a tidy yard, but for the most part they're spiky and overgrown and absolutely stunning! And as the yellow flowers give way to green leaves, spring will indeed be in full swing.

God Bless Us! New Englanders have indeed survived another winter! Pancakes all around!