First Flower

The garden is in that snow-rapidly-melting garden-emerging disheveled stage, when I’m desperate to get out and work, just to be in it, but I rather like the tousled-ness of it all. There’s a rawness to an early spring garden I hate to disturb with trimming and tidying and raking. And still, I do it, because it’s too cold to just sit outside. Perhaps I should light the chiminea and sit by the fire, instead.

Maureen

The first flower of spring