Hail Springtime!

'Moongold' apricot tree in my backyard.

My correspondents in New England may be buried under snow and ice, but in Denver it's spring...at least this week. Locals keep telling me that March and April are the snowiest months, and I've seen with my own eyes how quickly the weather changes here. One afternoon last April it was sunny and in the 70s; by 6pm it was in the low 40s and we were being pelted with 1/2" hailstones.

The last of the snow only melted in the backyard a week ago, after covering the ground for 2-1/2 months. I was sad to be the winner of the family bets on when the Unbearable Whiteness would be mostly gone. The Boy Wonder predicted February 8. I told him he was deluded; he said he was optimistic. I predicted March 15. BW told me I was a pessimist; I said I was a realist--as was proven. Darling Husband, who came in later, hedged and picked February 19. Loser.

So now that the snow is gone it's time to water the yard, as rain is but a concept here--something that happens in movies, or on TV, but hardly ever for real anymore. I'm almost looking forward to the thundershowers that are predicted for the Virginia Festival of the Book this weekend. Almost.

Max takes a dust bath. Jenny tests the snow-free turf.