Percy Bysshe Shelley, the man who wrote that line, possibly lived the embodiment of an English romantic poet more than any other person in history.
I can guess what time of year he wrote it. (I’ll bet you can, too.) –A dreary day when murky gray clouds shrank his world, and hard rain pounded him to the bone. His head drooped and his life opportunities seemed small. Until he glanced at a calendar. Or noticed a plant budding despite nasty weather, and his thoughts and hopes leapfrogged to good things ahead.
We had nine days of snow and even zero temperatures in mid-January. Roads were ice rinks. Schools closed, mail couldn’t reach our town, and nearly all town services were suspended. Rain and warmer temperatures came two days later. This photo shows my brave spring flowers rising from their long sleep. The photo next to it is 27 days later.
From my Mid-South Mississippi winter home, it’s 290.5 miles to the Atlanta Botanical Garden—one favorite places I visit with a dear friend who lives nearby. I’m admiring these photos from our last time there while looking forward to our next return.
After all, “if winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
What most says “spring” to you? Which flower is your favorite?
How far would you drive to see scenes like this?
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