There are still snowdrops of course. They have an amazingly long bloom time. They are not daydrops.
I wandered far from the mountain to Mills River and the Mountain Horticultural Crops Research Station for a nursery management seminar and credits for my license to kill bugs. There are fields of shrubberies there. Most are still bare.
A bright yellow border of Jasminum nudiflorum was almost shocking in the mostly brown landscape.
And I saw another bright spot of yellow at the far end of a lower dirt parking lot off in the corner and out of the landscape. A clump of daffodils was blooming in the weeds.
Around the corner from the side entrance I entered, at the main door, even more daffodils bloomed in beds in dire need of some mulching. And this is where I come to learn about preventative and cultural methods of weed control.
The research station could use a gardener to maintain the place, but at least I saw some daffodils in bloom.
The snowdrops will keep me company on the mountain top while I wait for the crocus, the ever expanding 10,000 daffodils and the parade of minor bulbs.
Spring creeps ever closer.
Could winter really be over? I'd hate to be lulled into warm complacence then get smacked with a big arctic blast unprepared.