_DSC000402.04.13  Here are my Narcissus bulbs, given to me at Christmas by my good friend.  I’ve dutifully cared for them, making sure they didn’t dry out, keeping the water level low in the bowl.  When I was certain roots were growing down into the stones, I moved it to the window in my kitchen with the most light.  Light without sunshine.

It’s over.  My friend said I could throw them out since they didn’t bloom.  It’s February and as is always the case for me, the bloom of Winter is over.  I’m done with the candles and the outdoor fairy lights.  Ditto for the Scandinavian votives on the dining room table and the twinkling mantle.  For fourteen years now,  we’ve driven to Sun Valley, Idaho on the first week-end of February for the big Nordic ski race, and each time we go, we are dazzled by the sunshine, the glitter on the snow.  “There’s a reason it’s called Sun Valley,” we say to one another every time.  And we drive home in sunshine through Montana’s southern “banana belt”, the Bitterroot Valley, and make the climb out of Missoula into the gray of the Mission Valley and our own Flathead Valley.  There are signs along the businesses declaring, “Spring Tune-Ups for your Car” and “Time to Think Spring!”.  When we left home, it was snowing hard but now the ground is bare and the temperatures are above freezing.

It’s over.  Even if it’s not.

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