Daffodils dancing – or, The deeply underwhelming spring flower post

IMGP3552IMGP3527IMGP3530IMGP3556I haven’t the foggiest about what was supposed to be in this picture – the lone flower in the middle was probably not it. Why do I like this nonetheless? The texture of the background (or possibly foreground). Those swirling out-of-focus branches breaking the yellow of the background into something almost resembling a stained glass window.
IMGP3557IMGP3555IMGP3536I love these budding leaves, sweet, sticky and full of promise. Soon, soon! the summer will be here.
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Dear March, come in!

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat—
You must have walked—
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the bird’s;
The maples never knew
That you were coming,—I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me—
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame.

Emily Dickinson