2 03 2011

Well, down here in the south where I live, we are getting ready for our Annual Frozen Daffodil Festival.  You see, every year, the daffodils come up and all the other early bloomers, including the pear trees and the tulip trees and some redbuds and those tiny little pretty flowers spread around the flower beds.  And then – ZAP! – the weather drops down and it freezes again.  Then all those poor daffodils droop and are stiff as boards.  Those tiny flowers disappear completely and most of the trees look as though someone shot at them.  They are droopy in all directions.  Even the people don’t look the same.  

It’s hard to be zippy and fresh for Spring when you just put away all your heaviest clothing, just knowing Spring is finally here.  And then, here it goes again.  Down past freezing and another night or two of the same.  How do you justify putting on those clam digger pants and the short sleeved  T’s when it is 32 degrees outside.  So, you turn the heat on once again and go for the blue jeans and the heavy sweaters.  And the jackets and the coats and the gloves and the hats because the wind is usually about 40 mph during these days.

But, wouldn’t change it for the world.   Look forward to that Frozen Daffodil Festival every single year.  We all do. The name itself  is a joke that was written about many years ago in the local newspaper.  Everyone just keeps right on smiling and waiting for the sun to come out once again and for Spring to actually arrive.  Maybe it will be soon.  Hope so. 

Waiting for the Iris and the Azaleas and all those other warm weather flowers to show up.  And then it will be hot as blazes and everything will be drooping from the heat.  Oh well, such is life.  Can’t have everything you know.