The flowering quincy and fruitless plum bloomed right on time--the end of January, beginning of February, but the roses are confused. Some have blossoms and buds while others have barely leafed.
The squirrels forgot where they hid their winter stash, emptied their feeder an risked scaling our wickedly thorny climbing rosebush to get to the bird feeder.
But, a sure harbinger that we'll wish for a day like Monday--mild and in the 70s--the little birds foraging on the ground. The mourning doves chasing each other all over the place--an annual courting ritual--which means we'll soon hear the males calling to each other during the night. The females sit on the eggs during the night while the fellas do what fellas do. The ladies shop and eat all day while their mates (I assume) catch up on their sleep.
And, of course, along with all the blooming, so come the sneezes and sniffles and…well, allergies.