If April showers bring May flowers, what do April snows bring?
In true Ohio tradition (and I swear that despite living for decades in Boston and Washington, D.C., I never met weather as changeable and temperamental as this one!) we've dropped 40 degrees in one day and are now hovering over the freezing point again.
And it looks like for the next week or so we're not going up from the 20s and 30s at night. The heat, which had been turned off weeks ago, is now back on. The windows, which had been opened to welcome the spring breeze, are shut tight against the 20 mph freezing wind outside.
My husband just walked in a few minutes ago to announce that it was flurrying.
In April.
¡Dios mío!
All the potted plants that I had happily brought outside more than a week ago and that were basking in the wondrous spring days and growing like crazy, are now back inside, crammed on a small deck table that is now also inside, looking like annoyed people wedged in an elevator waiting to go somewhere.
I can almost hear their whispers of disappointment and concern, especially the miniature burnt-orange rose, who is plainly scared of Magellan because the evil cat loves to eat her petals, even if it's just to puke them up shortly thereafter. The violet and crimson pansies also are stressed out from the anxiety of being inside because they've heard of Darwin, for whom they are the greatest delicacy, worthy of the best restaurant salad bar. And the palm tree, which is almost bursting out of its pot, is quite sullen because Darwin chewed up all the edges of his long luscious leaves this winter and he was certain those days were over. Last night, Darwin almost killed the purple Petunia, pushing her pretty white clay pot to the floor where it was destroyed. The Petunia, gracias a Dios, survived Darwin's attempted murder.
Yes, things get a little more exciting in our house when the potted plants and the cats are at war. At least the pink trinitaria doesn't break a sweat. She knows that the cats are nothing against her sharp thorns and her bitter leaves and flowers. She, at least, is safe from the military strategies Magellan and Darwin are developing, as I speak, in their neverending War Against the Potted Plants.
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