It rained today in Connecticut. All day. A gentle rain that clung to the trees in heavy droplets. Tiny buds just barely bursting forth. The promise of leaf. The grass is greening. It is daylight at 6:30 when we get up in the morning. We have supper in this light of day. Our spirits lift. Spring!
And in the front yard the maple towers above with its own swelling red buds against the bleak gray sky. Soon they will burst forth, spilling onto the ground, staining porch and steps with their redness. Spring!
Indoors, however, things are really bleak. The Brugmansia that I brought in when the fall weather came on are not doing well. In fact they are doing badly. I won't even take pictures of straggly, leafless stems. They are constantly bug laden even though I frequently spray them with soap insecticide. Spring can't come soon enough for these guys. I just hope they survive.
The good news is that the brugmansia cuttings that I took in the fall are doing fairly well. At least they are green and growing. Of the fifteen, six have survived. Of the four cuttings that I brought back from Indiana, one has survived. I hope it makes it because I want to see that wonderful peach blossom and smell the intoxicating aroma. Spring is hope.
