Spring harbingers

HALLIE EPHRON: Here in New England, we’ve just barely edged into SPRING. The temperature has gone up to 60 (yay!) and daylight savings time kicked in on Sunday (boo!) Today I am trying to pull together my taxes (boo!) and reminding myself that this is very much a first-world problem to have (yay!).

Here’s what’s going on in my garden. *ONE* snowdrop is up.

And a hyacinth trying to sprout has been bitten to the ground by ravenous rabbits who have managed, apparently, to survive the winter and are now nibbling away on just about anything green. All the plants I put in last fall are reputedly rabbit resistant (lavendar, bee balm…) - only time will tell (or “Nous verrons,” as my mother would have said).

The bird bath is still waiting for spring migration and I’m waiting until the mud has hardened on my favorite walking trails.

So what are your ups and downs of the season?

LUCY BURDETTE: Spring in Key West means spring breakers of course! The place is mobbed, and a lot of the visitors are young and here to party.

Aside from that, we are hearing birdsong that’s different from the winter. I’m pretty sure these guys are on their way up to you Hallie (and Hank and Julia!) I do miss spring in New England, however, I can tell from Hallie’s post that it’s too early to head north…

One more special thing we have in Key West–the caterpillars have arrived that will turn into monarch butterflies. The only thing they will eat is the milkweed my neighbor plants. Can’t wait to see them come out!

RHYS BOWEN: I’m in Arizona where spring means a riot of color and blossom. This is truly the best month of the year here with bougainvillea spilling over all the walls, the creosote bushes dotting the mountains with yellow and the palo verde trees about to be covered in yellow blossoms. The weather is perfect–low eighties with cool evenings.

Luckily most restaurants now have patio seating which is a delight. And our daughter’s big back yard, strung with lights and more lights bobbing in the pool, makes a great spot for entertaining. We have the chimenea and heater on when it gets too chilly and stay out until late.

JENN McKINLAY: I’m in AZ like Rhys, and March and April are the last gasp of fabulous weather before the heat starts in May. My front yard is a riot of blooming creosote and cassia bushes and the backyard is bursting with a red blossoms on the trumpet vine along the back wall, drawing in the hummingbirds, and my citrus trees (lemon and lime) are in bloom and the smell is the single greatest scent in the world.

There is nothing like AZ in March. Glorious.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: We are in waiting mode, of course. For the ducks. Flo and Eddy have not made their annual visit yet–this will be maybe their 24th year? This is the week they usually come, so we shall see. (And let’s not talk about ducks’ lifespans. For another time, okay?)

We are seeing only the tiniest tiniest shoots of tulips and crocuses, but not one bit of stem, let alone flower. But we have some adorable snowdrops. And the birds are arriving–juncoes, and cardinals and duets of skittish doves. WAY too soon for the patio lights, and super too soon for the outside grill. We are still in coats.

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Spring seems to be running a little late here in north Texas this year. Usually by mid-March our fruit trees and the redbuds are in bloom, and we might be seeing a few early irises. But this year, nada. I'd even begun to worry that my forsythia was dead, but yay, this morning a few yellow flowers are budding. The crocuses have been and gone, the daffodils have been blooming sporadically since January. We had a late, hard freeze last Friday so I'm holding that responsible for the delay.

However, it is absolutely gorgeous here this week and I have a terrible case of spring fever. The Boston ferns are coming into the nurseries–that's the real marker of spring here. And I'm dying to get and fill those barren pots on my porch and patio!

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: As the official Far Northern Red, I’m lagging behind the rest of you. In southern Maine, we’re usually about two weeks behind what Hallie and Hank are experiencing in the Boston area. I just pretend Lucy, Rhys and Jenn are living in a foreign country.

It’s mud season here - no shoots, no grass, and the buds are still tightly furled. My backyard is a bog with patches of ice wherever the shadows linger. My dirt and gravel driveway (it’s very ecologically sound!) looks like those places where Russian military vehicles have gotten hopelessly stuck. Yep, Putin’s not going to make much headway if he decides to invade Buxton, Maine.

What I do have is indoor spring. I lay bright tablecloths on the tables and have some glorious forced forsythia right where I work. My old house was built to run on sunlight, with large windows everywhere, and with the longer days the rooms are filled with light. It’s been a great week, temperature wise - in the upper forties and fifties! - and though I still have to keep a fire in the woodstove, it heats up the room fast. Sometimes I even take my heavy wool cardigan off. Stop me before I become giddy.

HALLIE: So what's going on in your world? Are you still recovering from "springing ahead"? Suffering through tax season? Or picking your head up out of the weeds and inhaling spring?