Sunday Signs of Spring

It's been one of those lazy Sundays, and believe it or not, I don't have much to say or write about. I could go on a political rant but I'll spare you that and  post some of the pics I took today on my little garden walk-about  as I was looking for signs of spring. I'm happy to report that I found some!

 I noticed while filling the bird feeder today that the  buds on the dogwood tree (Cornus florida) are getting fuller and beginning to open ever so slightly, showing  specks of white, so  it won't be long now before the dogwood is covered with blossoms.   The dogwood is  beautiful all year, but especially so in spring when it's covered with delicate white flowers that seem to shimmer in the sunlight.

At the edge of the front yard, near the street, the spirea is  beginning to  bloom with clusters of lovely white  flowers.

Next to the house, the forsythia seems reluctant to bloom.  There are some flowers scattered along its branches, but they are few and far between. It may be in mourning for  its relative in the neighbor's yard who put on  a  wonderful sunshiny  show every spring.  The poor  thing was mercilessly hacked down by a  road working crew last summer. Even though it  looks to be straggling and struggling, the few blooms on our bush are nice little golden flecks of   color on dreary days.

I was surprised to see a little wild violet bobbing its head  under the forsythia.   Many people   view  wild violets as weeds but I rather like them and they were one of my mother's favorite flowers.

 The white azalea is blooming., but very sparsely so far and the leaves don't look at all healthy, so I'll have to try to find out what the problem is and attempt to bring it back to health.

The variegated vinca ground  cover is also beginning to bloom.  I was afraid Mr G had pulled most of it up when he  was tackling the poison ivy that  had sprung up in the flower bed last year, but there it was- with its periwinkle blue flowers  dotted about among the white-edged green leaves.

                                                    As Shelley wrote:

 "And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.”