Spring Bulbs

We've suddenly leaped into spring. Amazing; where only a few days earlier winter adamantly refused to give up its mandate, chilling us, killing us with the suspense of the wonder of it all - where spring could be hiding in fear of winter - all of a sudden, there it is. No mistaking the mild temperatures, the warmth of the sun; even the wind is a kindly one, now. Our mountains of snow, determined to hang on, will yet evaporate in the warm breeze, under the mounting sun.

We've kind a way to go, though. Six feet of snow still towers over us at the edges of our lawns, thrown up there throughout the course of the long winter months, with one snowfall after another, regular as clockwork, every two days out of three. Incrementally, it gave us a denser, larger, higher snowpack than we could handily recall from winters past. Striations can now be seen at the edges of those snowpacks as they begin the shrinking process, marking successions of storms.

Robins have returned; clearly they knew something we did not, when they showed up - poor things, live eaters that they are - while chill winds were still blowing, snow and freezing rain still pouring down upon us. We're now seeing pairs, in the ravine, where before we saw mostly singles; nuthatches, cardinals, woodpeckers. Squirrels are leaping about, finding the peanuts and crackers we've stowed here and there for their awakening.

We're dropping calf-high into deep snow when we're heedless enough to step too carelessly off the tamped-down trials, but even those hard-packed trails are beginning to betray us as they succumb, and suddenly where once there was a certain tread, now there is a trap. Deep wells appear at the bottom of tree trunks, as the snow shrinks away, abandoning the cast-off cells of the tree bark. Pileated woodpeckers are causing havoc, pick-axing tree trunks.

And in our back garden, a huge surprise to warm our souls and delight our senses. Spring bulbs, well advanced, dark and pale green with tinges of red have hoisted themselves out of the sleeping soil. While the snow piled beside the backyard pathways, faithfully shovelled clean after every snowfall for our two little dogs, still looms four feet in height, there is shrinkage at the edges of the garden beds.

And that is precisely where we see tulips, narcissus, hyacinth, crocuses and grape hyacinth raising themselves, not timidly and much later in the spring as is their wont - for all of our bulbs are of the mid- and late-spring variety - but now, while most of the gardens are still heavily weighted with snow. It's just that; the unseasonably early covering of the earth with one snowfall after another, acting as an insulating blanket that had kept the ground from freezing this winter.

Normally, we'd have the ground freezing to a depth of several feet, but with this winter's early and generous snow covering, that hasn't happened. As a result, when the snow begins to shrink back, the bulbs don't have to fight their way through frozen soil, or wait for it to thaw sufficiently, but are able to spring to action as soon as the snow covering releases them.

If this spate of mild weather continues, with clear skies and the occasional shower, truly all this snow will dissipate, and our gardens will be released to gift us with their brilliant colour. One little misfortune must be seen to - several of the gnarled branches of one of our weeping caraganas have succumbed to the accumulated weight of the snow; some wrapping will help them to anneal back to the trunk.

And then all the wonders of spring will begin to reveal themselves to us, renewing all manner of garden life forms for our deep and abiding wonderment.