for anticipation, and I don't mean of sugarplums and the like. Our erratic January weather finds some living beings in our neighborhood anticipating spring. One human neighbor was jogging in shorts on a fifty-degree day. (There's always one.) Wrens are singing as if their fancies are already turning to thoughts of love, though January seems a bit early for that.
While it is not surprising that the crocuses are sending up leaves, January is not generally daffodil season. Evidently, no one shared that information with some of the bulbs in our lawn strip, a few of which are already attempting bloom stalks.
I fear that that specimen may not survive to bloom in April. The volunteer shepherd's purse behind it would likely survive any disaster.
Some of the tulips are getting in on the act.
Even the moss transplanted from a brick wall to the lawn strip last fall is sending up what I think are sporophytes, preparing to colonize more of Sacra Via (assuming it can overcome the ground ivy).
According to the calendar, spring will not arrive for fifty days, but some beings are more than ready for it.
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