My gut feeling was right yesterday. Until today, though, I didn't know what I was right about.... Now as I look out my office window into evening's dusk I see white everywhere. The heavy cloak that draped over the heavens yesterday was not the cloak of rain clouds. No. It was the unimagined promise of snow. Let me spell it out: S-N-O-W.
The tulips, daffodils, forget-me-nots, and lungwort have lost their brilliant blues, pinks, and yellows to a covering of heavy whiteness. Instead of April showers bringing May flowers we have May snows bringing ... who knows?
The dark earth of the driveway lies uncovered but all else--new leaves, buds, and blossoms--is snowed under. This is a vastly different look from fall when naked trees catch and hold this frozen moisture on their long, lanky branches. No, this is something else entirely ... tender leaves, delicate petals, and fragile blossoms rest beneath an icy coating and it remains to be seen how well these fledgling plants survive.
Frances planted all of the tomatoes she started from seed into the garden yesterday afternoon even though I cautioned her against making such a rash decision. This morning she hurried out to unplant each and every tomato and carry it back into the house.
My t'ai chi chih practice this evening was oh so quiet as if it, too, were weighed down by the shock of new fallen snow. Birds sang through the first half of the form and then all was silent. I watched the snow-covered world before me with eyes filled with winter-weary wonder. And I moved slowly and softly as if I were moving through snow-weighted air. Indeed, I was.