They're Back and They're Early

As a gardener in New Hampshire, I often wonder what terrible deed I did to evoke the wrath of Mother Nature because there are days when it seems like Spring will never arrive and I will never get out there in the garden.  And then, when Spring finally does get here, she has more tricks up her sleeve.

It all starts in early March when I'm listening on the phone to friends and family living in other parts of the country go on and on about how all their forsythia and daffodils are blooming.  And here I am stuck in New Hampshire still fooling around with the snow blower.  Then, as March wears on, and the snow disappears, it's replaced by mud.  It's no use thinking about gardening then.  I can't even get a wheelbarrow full of mulch through all the muck.  Finally, April arrives and the mountains of snow start to recede, only to reveal millions of fallen leaves that I swear I had already cleaned up last Autumn.  So I spend most of April raking leaves and picking up branches that were ripped from the trees by all those winter storms we had to endure.  There is load after load of debris to be hauled away but finally, toward the end of April, I have walked the last ten miles with the garden cart, the garden is all cleaned up, and I get to enjoy a small taste of gardening bliss.  And then they show up.