Yearning for Flowers

I am writing this on March 10, a colder day than anyone thought possible, this time of year. Only a few days ago we saw promises of spring, but those promises have not been kept. The bright sunshine and long days (now that the clocks are set to their proper time) have been more than deceiving. The green spikes of Daffodils and Tulips, knifing their way up and out of the winter soil, have been stopped in their tracks, the bulbs beneath probably freezing solid. I yearn for flowers, for colour, for greenery, for blossoms, and for the fragrance of warm wet soil as the creative juices within bring forth new life. This 'spring fever' that is much talked about is nothing but a hope as long as the cold arctic air keeps washing over our fair valley. Last night I drove through a blizzard as I was approaching the Port Mann Bridge and the crazy thing was, the sunset was plainly visible through the driving snow. In two minutes it was over. Ah. Such is the month of March.