Spring drew on: she was indeed already come; . . . sometimes on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant and genial, and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. (Charlotte Brontë in Jane Eyre)
When cold and dark in the external landscape conspire with similar tendencies in one’s internal climate, reminders that spring will make her eventual entry even at 6,000 feet take on special importance. Though the western half of Colorado is now officially out of drought following a winter of above-average snowfalls, at least for the time being, areas east of the Continental Divide continue to thirst for moisture, especially subsequent to the third-driest March in recorded history. Desiccated vegetation coupled with fierce winds equals fire danger and in a concerning early start to the wildfire season, we have already seen at least three significant conflagrations in this part of the state.
Instead of taking giant strides, spring approaches hesitantly at this altitude by moving forward a couple of steps before retreating once again, as though unsure of her welcome. Nothing could be farther from the truth, of course, and each token is profoundly appreciated. I have cherished the uplifting chants of our resident birds for weeks while anticipating the arrival of spring migrants who will add more color and variety to our community.
Following months of ice flowers exclusively, it has been a joy to witness the slow unfurling of hyacinth buds in the sun-warmed soil in front of our house as well as the verdant inklings of other plants scattered around the garden.
To enlarge a photo, click on it. To read its caption, hover cursor over it.
As eagerly awaited as these floral vernal harbingers are, I always worry about their timing. Without fail, they pay for their precociousness by being nipped in the bud (or blossom) due to either frost or blizzard, and this year is no exception. After a number of days when the mercury climbed into the 60s, the first precipitation since February arrived in the form of snow last evening. Too little to make a dent in the drought, but associated with enough chill to bring back ice flowers, if only temporarily.
In keeping with Charlotte Brontë’s hopeful quote, I will keep looking for brighter traces of spring each morning.
tanja britton 
At the tipping point of Spring and not quite Spring. And, it seems, drought and not quite drought.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well said, Brad. Spring will arrive eventually, and the drought will also end at some point (we sincerely hope).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Me too, as we are considering CO as a retirement destination.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Have you decided what part of the state you would to retire in?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Somewhere between Littleton and Fort Collins where we can see the Front Range.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hope it will work out for you!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I looked up the larger passage from which you quoted:
“But the privations, or rather the hardships, of Lowood lessened. Spring drew on: she was indeed already come; the frosts of winter had ceased; its snows were melted, its cutting winds ameliorated. My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden: sometimes on a sunny day it began even to be pleasant and genial, and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps. Flowers peeped out amongst the leaves; snow-drops, crocuses, purple auriculas, and golden-eyed pansies. On Thursday afternoons (half-holidays) we now took walks, and found still sweeter flowers opening by the wayside, under the hedges.
“I discovered, too, that a great pleasure, an enjoyment which the horizon only bounded, lay all outside the high and spike-guarded walls of our garden: this pleasure consisted in prospect of noble summits girdling a great hill-hollow, rich in verdure and shadow; in a bright beck, full of dark stones and sparkling eddies. How different had this scene looked when I viewed it laid out beneath the iron sky of winter, stiffened in frost, shrouded with snow!– when mists as chill as death wandered to the impulse of east winds along those purple peaks, and rolled down ‘ing’ and holm till they blended with the frozen fog of the beck! That beck itself was then a torrent, turbid and curbless: it tore asunder the wood, and sent a raving sound through the air, often thickened with wild rain or whirling sleet; and for the forest on its banks, THAT showed only ranks of skeletons.”
[A beck is a small brook. An ing is a pasture or meadow, usually one lying low and near a river. A holm is a small island (as Wiktionary says it also is in some northern German dialects.)]
Your photographs show that spring’s a-springing, even in the face of a possible temporary retrenchment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s wonderfully descriptive writing on Charlotte Brontë’s part, isn’t it? The entire book is quite compelling, and the quote put me in the mood to re-read it. My first acquaintance of a German translation of the novel lies back several decades, and of the English original nearly one, so I think it’s time to pull the volume back down from the shelf.
I think we will experience more episodes of retrenchment before spring is here to stay, and then, all too quickly, it will be summer.
LikeLike
The last time I taught high school, two decades ago, one of the English teachers was doing Jayne Eyre, and I remember her saying that some of the girls considered it the most romantic story they’d ever read. Maybe it’s time for me to follow your intention and re-read it, as it’s been several decades, and the lines you quoted are no longer familiar.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I don’t think I would call it that. as it contains some very disturbing plot developments. Reading “Wide Sargasso Sea” by Jean Rhys made me rethink some of the widely held ideas about Brontë’s novel. That being said, I still plan to re-read it.
LikeLike
Oops, I accidentally used the spelling of my friend Jayne.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is heart warming to see the first signs of growth as Spring unfolds. This year all my plants have survived the frosts and the crape trees are verdant. Enjoy this season. Tanja. 🌻
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Kerry. I’m glad that the plants in your garden are doing well and hope your spring will continue to be cheering.
LikeLiked by 1 person
🌿🌿
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hang in there, Tanja… slowly spring comes!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Eliza. Patience is not one of my fortes. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s coming even slower up here. We’re still hovering freezing. The flowers and birds seem to know it wasn’t time to make their appearance yet this year. At least you have spring growth poking through. 😊 Maggie
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have lived in places where spring didn’t make an appearance until the middle of May or June, and I struggled with that fact. Come March and April, I’m ready for some color and new growth. I hope you will see some signs of spring soon–winter seems slow in leaving this year.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hi. I’m glad to hear that the drought is over in parts of your state. But I’m not glad to learn about the recent forest fires. It seems to me that, worldwide, forest fires have become more frequent than ever. There were terrible ones in parts of Europe last year, for example.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, wildfires are very concerning, and so destructive. We need more trees, not fewer!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Spring is such a vulnerable wonderful time, too hot, too early, too cold , too much snow or frost. It always seems a miracle!
Out cherry trees are in flower but it is -3 at night. Will enough blossom survive to make cherries for the kirschwasser?
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s such a perceptive summary of spring, Cathy.
I hope at least some of your cherry blossoms will survive so you won’t be deprived of your kirschwasser! 😊 🍒🍒🍒
LikeLike
How amazing,
I am happy to hear that you find tiny little signs from nature 🥰
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Every little sign of spring is so welcome and appreciated. 🌷
LikeLike
The plants which bloom early and pay a price when the temperatures plunge are nevertheless beautiful to behold. Their all too brief appearance provides us with the promise of things to come. Perhaps the genes of those plants will somehow strengthen and next year’s sprigs will keep their heads down a bit longer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have wondered about whether or not the plants would “learn” from year to year and slow down their flowering. So far, I don’t think that has happened but I will keep an interested eye on the matter. Even though some of the blossoms usually fall victim to the cold, it’s so cheering to see them when all the other vegetation still appears brown and lifeless. 🌷
LikeLiked by 1 person
It can be frustrating, waiting for spring’s arrival…but it’s always worth the wait. And hyacinths, don’t you just love their scents as well as the vibrant colours?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s absolutely worth it. And the wait make us appreciate it even more when it arrives, with all its lovely colours, shapes and, yes, sweet perfume. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your spring has been slow in coming, but seems on its way. I’m sure that must gladden your heart; so much to look forward to as the unfurling begins, the sprouting appears. We had an early spring, but now, have lapsed back to February conditions–cold and wet. And I’m just fine with that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Every little sign of spring does gladden my heart, Tina, and it has always been my favorite time of year.
I imagine that cold and wet conditions are better than hot and humid, which will come to your part of the country soon enough. I only hope there won’t be a late ice storm with power outages again!
LikeLike
I know I’ve done my share of moaning about our drought, but… enough already! Sure wish I could figure out how to send you some of this excess of rain we’ve been having. Spring is being very slow to arrive in our neighborhood because it’s been unusually cold at times (oddly enough we get freezing weather when the sun comes out!). At least it warms up a bit when it’s raining (~50º during the endless rain storms…)
But what would we find to complain about if not the weather?
Hope you’re hanging in there and surely we’ll get a bit of springtime before the summer arrives… (that’s the season I dread!)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Gunta. Humans have wished in vain to influence the weather, and while we might be doing so indirectly, at least so far we have to take it as it comes. On the whole, that’s probably preferable to yet another way humans could manipulate one another.
I share your dislike of summer. It used to be pleasant, but now one only tries to get away from the heat, which is tough, because I really like to be outdoors.
LikeLike
I grew up repeating a little verse: “March winds and April showers help to bring our sweet May flowers.” Obviously, that doesn’t apply so well in coastal Texas, where the flowers have been doing their thing for some time, but it seems as though it might still apply for your location.
The combination of showers and flowers was mentioned by Thomas Tusser in “A Hundred Good Points of Husbandry,” first published in 1557. His was more succinct — “Sweet April showers Do spring May flowers” — but it sure is evidence that people have been longing for spring ever since there were people who endured winter. I hope you get just the right number of showers, and an abundance of spring flowers!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Linda. I think for most living beings, spring brings sensations to the fore that slumber during the rest of the year, and the sense of renewal and fresh beginnings is something we long for. Hence the many poems and songs about this season.
LikeLike
Is Spring just around the corner or has it arrived? No matter the answer, it’s certainly a season for anticipation, hope and renewal. This is the time of year I feel most centered and happy. Come on Spring, wherever you are!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I second that wish!
Spring usually takes a couple of steps forward, only to back away again. The gardening recommendations are not to plant anything frost-sensitive until the middle of May. But we can see a few blooming flowers as well as budding leaves on shrubs, which is very nice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Eventually Spring will break free of Old Man Winter’s chains. Been a bit of a struggle here in the Midwest as well. Early rising temps popped some of the flowers in our landscape only to be nipped by a series of cold fronts..and then two very wicked storms made sure those blooms that survived were sufficiently punished. Fingers crossed we are passed it now – bittersweet as the runs will get hotter now, but I’ll take those few hours of discomfort for the beauty of spring and summer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It has started to feel a lot more like spring here as well, but we are known to get the occasional blizzard in late May or even June. We do need the precipitation, but I hope it will arrive in the form of rain.
Wishing you a good spring and summer.
LikeLiked by 1 person