Passe, passe le temps ...

Around three weeks or so ago, the weather around here looked like this:

The Spring solstice arrived almost two weeks ago.  Since then, it's seemed as if the planet has shaken itself into a semblance of more usual climate order.  What had begun as the coldest month of March in the past three years - March here truly having begun like a lion - has since turned into fairly temperate weather, at least so far as air temperature has been concerned.

But March, which will end tomorrow, has still not approached anything like lamb status, with wind rattling the shutters by night and with rain pelting down by day.  In spite of the wind and rain, however, Spring is letting us know that its coming is inevitable.  My forsythia is blossoming, even though I noticed that it is not quite as far along as are the bushes at the Geneva airport.  I have had occasion to make several runs there in recent days.  One more is scheduled for tomorrow morning.  The next rounds of visitors, at least those that I know about right now, will occur in June.  By then, the forsythia should have lost its blossoms and leafed out ... as should the trees, once again hiding most of my lake view with their summer foliage.

Last week, I set out some pansies ... the little ones that some call "Johnny-Jump-Ups."  To my delight, one pansy plant from last year survived both summer drought and winter frost to greet me as well.  Pansies (les pensées = thoughts) are such cheerful flowers.

Even my rosemary plant has been inspired to blossom.

This morning, I walked down to the little park just across the lake road.  One can feel it slumbering, just waiting for the families and children who will populate it this summer ... who will barbecue and have picnics, who will swim at the little rocky beach, who will play volleyball and boules, who will swing on the swings and play on other playground equipment.  Right now, everything is dark and overcast.

But the flowering plants tell me, as they tell us all, that the summer sun will come again.  The graceful swan that swam to the shore to greet me, hoping for a handout, will not be as disappointed as it was this morning.

And once again, the seasons will follow, one upon the next, in this comforting manner.