the last day of winter

The cold season is bidding us a beautiful good bye. It's as if we need that reminder: winter has its very lovely elements. This year, our winter included heaps of snow for skiing, and, too, a bright and sunny transition to spring.

We wake up early. Though maybe I should rephrase that: we go to sleep late, just as some person responds to our ad on Craigslist, where we're selling (separately from the car) 4 wheels with winter tires (they came with the car when I bought it from a guy some 7 years ago). He would like to drive over and take a look. It is 11:30pm. He could be here in a little over an hour (he lives all the way in Beloit). So Ed loads the wheels in a cart, puts it at the end of the driveway and instructs the dude to leave the money under a stone.

Now about our wake up: first, there's the 2:30 wake up for me, where I ask Ed -- did he come for the tires? Ed goes outside, sees the tires still there on the driveway, comes back inside. Nope. It's a no show. I'll put them away tomorrow morning.

A few minutes later, I wake up again, this time to the sound of a car in the driveway. Someone is there, chatting to a bud. A few minutes later they drive away. We do a proverbial shake of the head ("oh that Craigslist!") and go back to sleep.

And a few minutes later, we hear the noise of a car again. We can't really tell what's going on but there is a conversation, and there are flashlights. And then a car pulls away and there is silence.

At dawn, Ed asks the usual bothersome question that you ask when you want someone to be up -- are you awake yet? 

And so I am up, rather early, taking my time with the chicks, with the cats, with the cheepers. But of course, eventually I do go out to check on the tires. And guess what -- they're gone. And the right amount of cash is left under a stone.

Thank you, honest buyer from Beloit! The tires are in good shape and the price was low. May he get good use out of them.

Breakfast, as a sort of "before" shot. Ed decided he needs a haircut and a beard trim. Before I get to the task of taking out his thick hair, I set up a breakfast selfie. (Is it still a selfie if there are two of us and it's timed release?)

And now let's get off the topic of tires and wheels and cars (for a little bit) and face what's really important: today, I come across the very first flower that is blossoming as a result of my planting efforts. Right by the walkway to the farmhouse:

Yes, a Snowdrop. Actually two of them.

Here's a picture of Dance and the two tiny Snowdrops.  

You could say then that this last day of winter belongs to the Snowdrop. The flower and the girl. Because I do get the girl, with all her after-school joy.

The evening? It belongs to Primrose -- not the flower that heralds the next season, but the girl who was born nearly three years ago in the first days of spring. We video chat over supper. Her smile is for the little chicks who come out to greet her with their chirps.

I had put in some solid hours of yard clearing earlier in the day and so I have the deep satisfaction of knowing that we are taking steps toward a season of growth. I can't remember any year of gardening (and I have been at it for a long time, growing perennials all the way back in the 1980s, when I first had a yard where I could plant them), when I've been this excited about the coming of spring and the awakening of a garden. I have to think I'm not the only one who just wants to experience once again the joy of watching a garden explode with life.

Night: guess what? The car finally sells. A guy drives over all the way from Illinois, checks it out, buys it for his girlfriend. Now that's love for you!

And tomorrow? Spring!