March 3rd, 2014


I’m looking out my window at a blanket of sleet that fell last night, wondering if we have shifted into a Game of Thrones universe, where winters are counted in years. I’m so tired of complaining about the weather, but I don’t seem to be able to stop, either. I’m starting to take it personally. In the last couple of weeks, the birds had begun nesting, and the bulbs have been blooming around the yard. The winter weather alert on my phone Saturday afternoon felt like a slap in the face.

So when the ice started raining down yesterday, I took up arms. Kitchen scissors, to be precise. I threw on my hooded parka, grabbed a bucket, and marched outside to liberate every last one of the daffodil blooms from the oppressor. 



Do you hear the people sing?




4 Responses to “Revolt”

  1. Lee Cockrum says:

    I live in Baltimore, and there is NO WAY the daffodils are anywhere near ready to bloom!!

  2. Bev says:

    They are gorgeous! You are so smart to have brought them inside to enjoy!

  3. marilee pittman says:

    “The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
    Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
    Is my destroyer.” Dylan Thomas

  4. Teeth says:

    Coming from Indianapolis, it has been a brutal winter. Record cold and snow. Can’t wait for the blooming to begin!

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