This seems like the picture you wanted to make, with the glowing gold petals and smooth cream petals, in the whimsical Spode cup as big as a tea pot.  It’s not quite as soft as your watercolors, but I could tell you were pleased.  No forsythia yet, but the yellow witch hazel are blooming at the gardens now, even with the heavy snow that covered up the snowdrops yesterday.  Your did not get a farewell walk at Olbrich – but we can go on Tuesday.

Was it a new beginning for you, Mom?
It seems like that is what you told me,
in that darkest morning, almost sleeping,
surrounded by a silent voice.
“You are about to meet a self you have never known before.”
I heard, and I believe at that moment you freed yourself and me
And flew, as sure as any spirit that ever left or held the earth.
Today the surface of the lake, a quicksilver mirror
ruffled with jagged uncounted waves
I pray you see your self reflected
Unknown parts and entirely whole.
A self you could not know before, now in everywhere you are.

By the time I start to write you on Sunday, I’ve forgotten most of the week’s adventures.  It may be that I didn’t have any – but I doubt it.

One fun adventure was I looked everywhere and couldn’t find my seeds that I bought last fall.  I searched high and low, in all the smart places and even the dumb ones (the basement – gack!) – but I had hidden them too well.  And here I was, ready to start my first indoor seedlings, with nothing to plant.

So I did have to go buy more of those dahlia seeds, and the extra-pretty cosmos called Apricotta (sounds like a delicious dessert, doesn’t it?).  And while I was at the big garden store, I decided I better buy more, different seeds – because you know, they might run out of them later in the actual spring.

Of course I don’t have room to start them all – probably not even half of them.  But knowing that doesn’t matter.  You don’t buy seeds from a logical frame of mind, but in a hopeful trance not to be interrupted by petty concerns such as how many shelves and lights you might have in your kitchen.

Of course, I found the lost seed packets the next day.  Now I have my Teddy Bear sunflowers and so many more cactus flowered dahlias and Apricotta cosmos.  Not to mention calendula, poppy, nigella, snapdragon, campanula, nasturtium, and aster, nestled in their colorful envelopes, just waiting for their days in the sun.

I made up my mind to take a breather from the flowers, and to be sure I did, I went to an estate sale on Saturday morning instead of getting my flowers. I did overpay for this charmingly leaky teapot – but that’s a lesson we can’t learn too often.

This morning I woke up at the crack of 6:30 (really 5:30 darn that dumb time change) to a wet, clumpy snow and grey skies – and something felt off kilter. Of course – no flowers. It just isn’t Sunday any more without flowers.

I wanted to turn over and go back to sleep, then get up and read and make coffee. Truly, I really did want to do those things. But I realized right away I couldn’t. The house would just feel naked without flowers, and what else am I going to do on Sunday? (Don’t answer that.)

So on with the snow boots (not for the last time, I’m sure), and downstairs with the snow broom (yes, it’s exactly what you think) to clean the car and get on the road in time to be there when the market opens.

And it’s a good thing I went, too – because today was the First of Ranunculus. And I got the very prettiest ones.

March is just a few days old, but she has already rained and snowed and shone her most favorable sun upon us, warmly promising more and more some future day.

Can it really be that winter is retreating?  Yes.  Whatever happens now is spring-snow, spring-rain, spring-shine past the winter bygones.  And not a moment too soon.