I saw it! I really did! No matter what storms and weatherish horrors the winter might still hold, it won’t be fooling me the slightest little bit!

Because, as I was parking in front of the Post Office this afternoon, I saw the little splash of blooming purple crocus that signifies the official start of the end of winter.

Oh, winter’s not over. But it’s starting to be over. To paraphrase Churchill, this is the beginning of the end.

There will be more freezing weather. There will be more snow. There will be more ice. This warm spell can’t last; it’s too unnatural.

But right here, right now, it’s here. The flowers are starting to bloom, and the trees are starting to bud, and no matter what else happens with the weather, and it WILL happen (I’m excited but I’m not an idiot!) . . . well, to quote the Fabulous Gershwin Boys: “They can’t take that away from me.”

The crocuses at my house aren’t blooming yet, but their wispy little stems are up.

I planted crocuses all over the yard and all around the house. Every year there are more in spots and fewer in other spots, as the bulbs divide under the ground, or as the squirrels and deer find and eat them.

And after all the bulbs have grown and bloomed and faded on three sides of the house, the ones on the North side burst into flower.

In my mind’s eye I can still see Belle and Zappa, each with a little sack of crocus bulbs and a little digger, walking around the yard, bending to dig, standing to open the sack and take out a bulb, bending again to plant it, and then straightening up to tell me ‘one more flower for later, mommy!’

If you plant bulbs with your child, it can be a lesson in patience.