I’m so over winter. I’m tired of the rain, the short days, the grey skies. I know, I’m spoiled. I just got back from three sunny weeks in Africa and I’m already complaining about the cold again. But really, it’s been freezing for four months now and I’m ready for spring, even if it’s a late spring in London.
Late Spring in London
January was so chilly this year I didn’t see any snowdrops, the flowers that usually appear after New Year’s Eve. Every year they give me a tiny glimmer of hope that someday the bleak black winter will end. But not this year.
February was equally bad, and there was no sign of the crocuses that normally pop their heads up mid-month. It’s going to be a late spring in London if there ever was one.
But maybe March will be my lucky month. It is, after all, the month that officially marks the beginning of spring in London.
And just the other day I looked out into the garden and saw that the fruits of my boyfriend’s autumn bulb-planting extravaganza were starting to ripen.
Over the past few days we’ve watched each morning as a few tiny crocus blossoms have shown their sunny faces to the world. First it was a white one, then a yellow. Now there are four or five of them in the garden, and more on the way.
Then we had the pleasant surprise of buds on a two-year-old plant that that’s stubbornly refused to blossom since we bought it. Its tiny white-and-pink globes are hopeful harbingers of a late spring in London.
This week has been sunny, if near freezing. But any sun is better than the gray pall that’s hung over London since November.
With any luck, over the next few weeks there will be more spring flowers and brighter days. Then maybe, just maybe, a late spring in London will arrive. When it does, I’ll share more photos of spring with you.
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