So far, here on Beaver Island, it’s been one of those Aprils where you can’t count on the weather. One nice day is followed by winter-like cold. Instead of gentle April showers, we’ve had ice, and snow, and sleet. At the Community Center, we’re keeping the snow shovel beside the door, and I’m doing the same thing at my house. Sometimes, it seems that all it takes is that show of smug overconfidence, storing winter’s tools for the season, to curse us with one of those not unheard-of late spring blizzards.
I can remember at least three years of the last ten when the “April Fool” was a big storm dumping several inches of snow, on or around the first of April.
Our ferry boat made it’s first run of the season last week. When it pulled out of our harbor in the morning, it was in open water. By the time they made there way back across Lake Michigan in the afternoon, they were pushing through ice much of the way. On top of that, the winds had driven the ice back in to the harbor, so even getting in to the dock was a challenge.
I used to be easily fooled. I’m always ready for spring, and the first warm days send my hopes soaring. There were several times I was sure I could start working in the garden, only to be brought to my senses by the return of winter.
I have a photo, though I can’t find it today, from a not too distant spring, of a bouquet of daffodils on my table in April. The daffodils, narcissus and jonquils have started to push up out of the ground, but are not nearly ready to bloom this year. I have bunches of early snowdrops just outside my kitchen door; they are always first here, and I’ve seen their blossoms come up right through the snow. Today, I was encouraged by a small clump of crocus. That offers promise, anyway, that we will get spring.