First a howling blizzard woke us,
Then the rain came down to soak us,
And now before the eye can focus —
Crocus. —Lilja Rogers

Spring has not sprung in Maine!

A naughty trick is being played on all of us, yet again. However, we human beings are not the only ones being held hostage by an irritable and angry weather god suffering from a bad case of the “uglies.”

The teeny, tiny baby buds and hibernating lily bulbs are reaching, pushing, yearning for a lasting sliver of sunlight! The trees gently hold back their leafy sprouts with all their might, keeping them warm and cozy as they prayerfully await a steady string of sunny days. Squirrels have depleted their stash of nuts and seeds. They’re ready to have some good old fashioned fun and games on dry ground. Chipmunks can be heard chattering and chirping, their itty bitty tummies growling with discontent.

Particularly aggravating is the inconsistency of this particular winter. Such a promising tease one day and a howling beast the next.

But, thank goodness.

I search the frigid air for my pet seagull, Jonathan, wondering where he hunkers down while the winds are fiercely wild and unflyable. How does he survive these brutally endless winter days and nights? And we humans think we are being punished? But,

And then, hark, the drip, drip, drip from the snow packed roof, and the clear, sweet song of one lone bird on a dripping limb, then the peek-a-boo sun dares to show a slender ray, and yes,

Suddenly my thoughts turn to my leaf and twig strewn garden, remembering how it blesses me each spring with rainbows of colorful faces and the heavenly scent of blossoming peonies. What’s this? My hand is curling around an imaginary trowel!

Chin up, good friends! We are almost there. The magical spell that spring in Maine casts upon us all is joyfully waiting in the wings for her curtain call. Ready the garden tools, fill up the bird feeders, bring out the deck chairs, put a spring in your step. Spring is at our doorsteps. Welcome her!