Today is the last day of winter.  Tomorrow morning at 10:47 spring arrives, and I couldn’t be happier.  It’s been a long, drawn-out winter here in the Berkshires and throughout New England.  And while the arrival of spring won’t flip a magical switch weather-wise, it does wonders psychologically. 

In the quiet of the mornings, I can hear birds singing outside my windows again (no, none of the windows are open—a lot of very vocal birds visit my garden).  The snow has retreated, though it’s by no means gone.  Racoons, skunks, and other critters are once again being caught on camera as they pass by the house on their nightly rounds.  I have no idea what routes they took when the snow was over three feet deep in places, but there was no sign of them near the house, on camera or otherwise. 

Best of all, the witch hazel is in bloom.  In an otherwise mostly monochromatic landscape, its spidery yellow flowers shine brightly.  Snow may fall, but once those flower buds open, the witch hazel blooms on.  I wasn’t able to collect its branches this winter to force them to bloom indoors, something that helps me get through the cold and dark days of January and February, so I’m appreciating the flowers so much more this March.

Hellebore flowers emerging (spring 2025)

So far, I haven’t seen much evidence of other spring bloomers, though I know under the snow their internals clocks have been ticking and they’re ready to make an appearance.  Tomorrow, I’ll take a walk around the yard, as much as the remaining snow allows, and look for new growth.  I’m hoping to find daffodil, crocus, snow drops, and winter aconite emerging.  If I’m lucky, the snow covering the hellebores will have melted enough for me to see them.  Last year’s faded flowers will likely still be there, waiting for new shoots to replace them. 

I’ve finally collected the last of what I need to build my own seed starting mix and potting mix.  I have plenty of seeds to start over the coming weeks, and rooted cuttings of last year’s coleus to pot up.  From now on, work in the garden is a “go” with many tasks taking place indoors until the ground thaws and I can begin the real work in the garden.

And I can hardly wait.

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