The snow was melting.

My children were getting naked and running for the door.

"Spring! Spring!", the sunshine cheered.

Winter boots? No! Rain boots? Yay!

"Spring!", we cheered. "Spring!"

(Being a sensible 2 1/2, she wore mittens.)

One blissful sunny afternoon. And then…

This.

The poor buds – swollen full with enthusiasm for warmer days – were locked in an icy cage for days.

The sound of the frozen trees swaying stiffly in the wind was eerie, second only to booming ice in early winter for other-worldly nature sounds.

Spring will come again, I said. I clipped a branch from our flowering crab tree and brought it inside, still dressed in ice.

We placed it on our late-winter nature table to observe. We'll watch it bloom, perhaps with snow still piled up outside or door and remember that the seasons always change.

So the garden will wait while we warm up inside for another week or so. Or month. Or whatever. Indeed, the seasons will change. We'll be here (some of us naked), just waiting.

Wishing you a warm and wonderful week, despite winter hanging tight!