The First Signs of Spring; Forgive me Flora, I Have Sinned

Funny isn't it that winter starts on the 21st of December and already in January we're looking for signs of spring?  O.K. so maybe you live in a part of the world that will be covered with snow and frozen solid for a few more months, but in my area our seasons change but we're never completely without  foliage and at least a few flowers.  If you live in a city in the pacific northwest, perhaps the first sign that spring  is on the way is the arrival at every grocery, drug, and hardware store of the ubiquitous 4 inch pots of primroses. 

 You know the ones, they hit the shelves the same day that the last of the poinsettias are pushed aside or thrown away and the unsold amyrillis bulbs are potted up in hopes of selling the flowering plants later.  They show up crowded into wicker baskets at workplaces as tokens of appreciation where they are kept inside and never watered which allows all to observe their death.

 These are the plants that are all to often used en masse at garden shows causing jaded curmudgeons like myself to say snarky things like, "Oh primroses, REALLY!  Who designed that? Couldn't they think of something else?"  (In February and March, when most of the shows happen there are far fewer blooming choices than there are in the summer.)

 It's just not seemly or at all sophisticated to admit to liking such simple and common flowers in such screaming colors.  These fall somewhere between potted chrysanthemums and flowering kale on the "OH REALLY!?" scale of gardening good taste.

 And yet, in January when the skies are dark gray, the rain pounding on the windows and the wind blowing away any hope of ever enjoying  short sleeves again, I scurry (as best as this round body can) through the blowing rain into a store to grab something or other. 

 I'm stopped in my after-work errand running tracks by flat upon flat of summer in a tray.  Suddenly, the clouds outside seem a little less ominous, the wind and rain less cutting and an inner voice reminds me that the light lingers for one more minute each day.

 The giddy kid inside (you remember,  the one who picks dandelions from the lawn and thinks that they are the most beautiful thing in the world) jumps up and down with  the joy of such saturated and warm colors selected directly from the Crayola box. 

 There comes a smile, a sigh, a lightening of step.  Someone's hands reach out and put a few primroses  in the grocery cart. I would never do such a thing.  If that inner child hasn't learned any self control in over half a century, it's probably a lost cause.

 Let's keep this little secret between us okay?  They're really kind of sweet, aren't they?  Complaining about flowers in January?  Pinch me, I'm dreaming.

 When you speak of this, and you will, please bee kind.

Today, I challenge you to do something charmingly unsophisticated  that will make your inner child giggle!