Winter has visited us like a tired boxer, maybe like Rocky Balboa, a bit past its prime, still looking good and able to spread white dust everywhere, but unable to go the distance, unable to make us sit up and notice for much more than twenty-four hours.
Winter was not able to kill the weeds this time around and my work will be long and arduous as spring brings longer growing days soon.
The hellebores are a tease calling me to get down into the mud on my knees or to sit on the cold hard brick which edges the raised bed beneath my sugar maple and squeeze off a camera shot or two while cold winds whistle at my collar and shake the blossoms gently. This milder weather will make them glorious against the grays but it will stress my maple because it has not had a long enough rest.
It is always a trade off, is it not?