Wishful Thinking

Which is all the thought of Spring is at the moment here on The High Plains of New Mexico.  Our grass is still dun colored and there isn't even the HINT of buds, blooms, or blossoms.  Well, that's not entirely true... the tulips have put up two-inch green shoots, so there's that... and the weather has warmed considerably, as well.  Spring is springing elsewhere in these United States, tho, and I read the First Post of Spring... with photos!... over at Blog-Bud Dan's place this morning.  Dan posted some beautiful photos of his blooming daffodils, which speak to me of Spring like nothing else.

Daffodils... whether in photos or in real life... also fire off memories.  Herewith one such:

Spring

Photo Credit: Anita Martinz from Klagenfurt, Austria (via Wikipedia)

It won't be long until we see tulips, daffodils, and other Spring bulbs bursting from the ground, what with today being the first day of Spring. The crocuses have already come and gone in some places...I've seen them bloom in the snow oftentimes in other parts of the world where I've lived... but for most of us the glories of Spring are just now arriving.

My all-time favorite memory of Spring flowers involves rounding a bend and swooping down a stone-walled lane into a tiny Cotswold village not far from where I lived in High Wycombe, England back in the early '80s. It was on a chilly Sunday morning in early Spring and I was out for a morning ride, alone. This village couldn't have been home to more than 500 souls, but there were literally thousands of bright yellow daffodils in full-bloom lining both sides of the lane leading into and out of the village. It was a breath-taking sight, and that is understatement of the highest order.

I immediately headed back for home after trundling through the village, parked the bike outside the house upon arrival (leaving it running), and burst into my living room, surprising the living HELL out of The Second Mrs. Pennington. I simply said "Grab your helmet, put on your jacket, and come with me! Now!", my outburst being more order than request. She complied... albeit in a somewhat perplexed manner... asking where we were going. I only replied "You'll see."

And see we did. I retraced the exact same route I had taken about a half hour earlier, except this time I approached the village just a little slower while reaching back and tapping TSMP's leg just as we entered the village. I could hear her "Ooooh!" exclamation over the noise of the bike's motor and rush of wind as I slowed to a veritable crawl. We pulled over to the side of the lane, parked the bike and spent about a half-hour walking the lane, drinking in the beauty of the flowers and the tiny thatched-roof houses in the village. And there wasn't a soul to be be seen anywhere, strangely enough. Just the two of us, amid a riot of daffodils on a quiet Sunday Spring morning in Britain.

It doesn't get much better than that, Gentle Reader.

―:☺:―

Today's Pic: Our mount on that glorious Spring morning... my old RD350LC, on the day I sold her... the week before I left Ol' Blighty. Notice my pallor. That comes from living in a country where I might have seen full sun on perhaps seven occasions over the course of three years. OK... I exaggerate... but not by a whole helluva lot.

Spring is just around the corner.  I wish I could sweep around a corner in the crisp Spring air and into a daffodil-festooned Cotswold village one more time.  Just ONCE more.