of cherry trees and daffodils

I’ve got this love/hate relationship with cherry trees and daffodils. Cherry trees more than daffs but this year they’re about equal. You see, up here in the northwest, we have lots of gray days, and lots of rain. Spring generally marks an increase in the amount of sunshine and the beginning of a warming trend. Spring means less gray days – we still get lots of rain, but it’s the rain with sunbreaks and rainbows, not the endless gray drizzle that characterizes our fall and winter. Spring rocks.

Now being a southern California transplant, it took me a little while to get used to the fact that flowers only bloom in certain seasons. (Down there, the weather is so dang nice that just about everything blooms year round.) I’m used to it now, but the cherry trees get me every year.

It’s a nice day in late February: the sun is out, it’s a bit cold, but at least it’s sunny. And you look around and notice that the cherry trees are starting to bloom and they are absolutely gorgeous. I love the cherry tree blossoms. And it invokes this feeling of spring and all you want to do is go skip and sing and laugh. Because winter is over, right?



But it’s a vicious trick. It’s not spring yet. Spring really doesn’t even start here until mid-April. You may think its spring, but it’s not. You get your hopes up and then bam! It goes back to being winter. Gray and drizzling. I remember a few years ago it actually snowed in Seattle on the first day of spring. I was so pissed.

So now, even with the cherry trees blooming and the daffodils shining their bright yellow faces, its still winter. Bastards.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. A word of advice: if you cut up habanero peppers to put in your dinner without wearing gloves, don’t expect to have sex that night. Or even the next morning for that matter.