Our weather here in the Northeast of the US continues to be strange -- warmer than usual, vicious storms that bring rain and sleet rather than snow -- and the bulbs I planted last fall are confused. It's not a good thing, actually, seeing them come up now; these tender leaves will most certainly be frozen and killed before long, leaving the bulb unlikely to have the energy to do any more once spring really comes.
Sigh.
Today I met my friend Marilyn for lunch; we are college friends and have for years gotten together for a lunch during January. We catch up, and look ahead -- it occurs to me that we rare look back. She's planning to retire soon, and move with her husband to their house on Cape Cod before eventually moving to Florida for the winters. We'll have to come up with a new tradition, and I'm not sure why thinking about that makes me so sad. Maybe just the acknowledgement that we are getting older, and that the waves of shared experiences start to take on a last-half-of-life kind of tinge (you know -- you go through those stages in life where everyone's deciding where to go to college, then when everyone's deciding what to do after graduation, then suddenly everyone's getting married, having children, etc.).
A photo a day over at Chicken Blog, too.
2 comments:
Poor bulbs and buds. I don't have much experience... but would it help to mulch them, cover them lightly?
Sigh... indeed. More than ever, it would be such an ease to our spirits if we could rely on some things, at least, remaining familiar. We are baffled and perplexed more than enough, already, with the surreal and _alternate facts_ reign of buffoonery.
It feels to me like these new stages are less certain, at times more isolated, unsupported. Again, all of the hiccups and adjustments, that we can otherwise face and manage, feel magnified and unsettling with the looming and confounding backdrop of our national politics.
Can I leave this comment on a brighter note? I'll try... Summer plans? Crafting progress?
I just keep drawing strength from the many, many good people who are standing up in every way that they can to say, "NO!" This is our hope and our future.
As for my little bulb friends -- nothing can be done. Once they start their cycle for a season (even if they start it at the wrong time), that's it. They can't go dormant, again, and then bloom again in spring. These little sprouts are destined to be frozen, and that's it. Our only hope is that they can lay quietly until NEXT spring and have a chance then -- but that's a long shot, alas.
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