What happened to springtime? When I looked out my back door yesterday morning, I thought I must be dreaming. Fully an inch of snow lay on the picnic table. I listened to see if I could hear Twilight Zone music. But no, the only sound I heard was the cold wind. Sure enough, Old Man Winter set a new record for Arkansas yesterday. Never before had snow fallen in May. But it did. Believe it or not. I took some pictures as proof. A few days ago, I posted a picture I called “Azaleas in the Rain.” This one is “Azaleas in the Snow.” Do you notice how surprised they look?
This morning the temp is above freezing, thankfully, and what’s falling from the clouds is rain. My container garden seems to have come through the cold snap with no casualties. In the first place, they were well soaked with the rain that fell on Thursday. In the second place, snow is an insulator, and in the third place, the freezing temperature didn’t stay around too long. So, being well grounded and upright plants, they lift their brave heads to the uncertain skies and smile in the face of danger.
Which, of course, brings to mind Barbara’s and my intrepid heroines, Darcy Campbell and Flora Tucker. They too are well grounded and smile in the face of danger. Well, maybe they don’t smile so much when their future looks as if it could be shortened. Things appeared a little dim in The Cemetery Club: “My heart thumped frantically. Mom and I scooted closer together and put our arms around each other. If we were going to die, at least we would not die alone.” And then again in Grave Shift: “I awoke to the sound of a beating drum. Funny; it was beating in the same rhythm as my heart–a pulsating beat that hurt. In fact, the top of my head felt as if it would explode.” If you have already read one or both of these cozies and liked what you read, perhaps you might want to post a review on Amazon? Or, if you haven’t yet read Grave Shift, the ebook is only $2.99. The Cemetery Club is offered on Amazon too but only in paperback form.
Yesterday I lit my fireplace and made an extra pot of coffee. Then I more or less hibernated. Isn’t that what winter is for–hibernation and rumination and dreaming thoughts of spring? Maybe, just maybe the snow was winter going out with a bang. Or perhaps May, being willful and capricious, wanted to make sure we would never forget her in future years because it’s certain that we never will!
Azaleas in the Snow
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