It Can't Always Be Colorful

Sometimes the clouds are too thick because there is something headed this way and the sky at sunset is just shades of grey.



Sometimes a story gets put on hold because the spark of ignition for typing only flickers, never lights, like a sunny utility meadow waiting for multiple days of warmth to take flight.



Sometimes we go hunting and only see a slight rustle. Tiny nandinas with winter red leaves only hint at some color being next to some green.



Sometimes all the parts are on hand with weather that cooperates and some siding that lines up just right with the wall around the corner is tacked into place. It's a good thing to since I did not think to check until I stood back and looked after five boards had been nailed on. I think it means my cozy cabin is essentially square and level. I had meant to paint, but thought I'd put on just one Hardie Plank once the flashing above and below the back kitchen door had finished taking shape.



Sometimes the blooms are just promises to come. Two sacks of daffodil bulbs jump in my cart a little while back and the bulbs from one sack are coming up nice and fat.



Sometimes the blooms for a Garden Bloggers Bloom Day that started two years ago on a cold winter day in a place we'll call May Dreams have to be used again cause that's just all we've got. There is a very distinctive white spot on a hillside of brown that gives me much hope that things will come around.



It's the Snowdrops. That's what I got for a February Bloom Day in the upper most low spot on a North Carolina mountain top.



They very much enjoyed their last week in the sun. Little seed pods are forming and the petals are fading. They won't last much longer and tomorrow they will be gone. The other kind snow drops are covering them now. Those too thick grey clouds have arrived with their cold load.