Spring in our climate is an explosion. It's hard to remember today how much winter is a shutting down, a freezing up, a putting to sleep of of our six Connecticut acres. The first proof of spring are the sword tips of the iris shoots and the daffodil leaves. I love daffs, or narcissus as my Southern mother-in-law calls them. These in the picture have survived being forgotten, stepped on, or partly throttled by my efforts to plant something else on top of them. There they are daffing away.
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