I've reached the point in mid-winter where I start getting cranky about having to put on my coat when I leave the house. I'm bored of boots and heavy socks are weighing on my soul.
Clothing anxiety aside, it's hard to suffer the usual winter misery when all day, every day you're working with flowers. Two weeks ago, I referred to some flowering quince branches as our "first quince of spring". Sarah sort of chuckled and said "umm, spring?". Oh right, the first quince of winter.
The shop has some amazing, riotous brights this weekend. Kumquats, oranges, hyacinth (oh the smell!) and velvety raspberry snapdragons. See why I get my seasons confused?
Winter has been good to me. I've become partial to dying tulips. Semi-dried ranunculus fill my kitchen table. I'm propagating miniature duckfoot ivy like there's no tomorrow. I've even managed to successfully BLOOM a cheapy grocery store rose bush inside my apartment. I'm wearing dresses again. Spring is ahead of schedule, if only because I'm willing it so.