...Spring?

It's snowing AGAIN. I know we must be slowly approaching the change in season. The days are definitely getting longer, and this weekend we get that lovely, wonderful, fabulous extra hour of sunlight at the end of the day. There's only two and a half weeks until the first flea market of the season. And it's March. Supposedly it will come in like a lion and leave like a lamb. With about 22 inches of standing snow on the ground, we're on the lion side right now.

I have a vintage croquet set that I accidentally left out before the first snow in January. It got steadily buried, and I haven't even seen the tip top of it in weeks. It's essentially the world's saddest snow gage.

I might be getting a touch of cabin fever. Let's look at pretty pictures of spring and day dream about gentle breezes, warm sunshine, and the scent of lilacs, hyacinth, fresh dirt, and cut grass.

This impossibly well groomed greenhouse would be the best place to spend a quiet sunny Sunday morning!
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Absolutely my dream home. Who'd have thought a pink house could be so stylish!
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This vignette is my spirit animal. So many perfect shades of well worn green paint!!
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There's magnolia trees all over Connecticut. I keep a close eye on them, waiting for any possibly sign of progress towards blooming. And when they do bloom, it's spectacular.
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A wonderful country kitchen. Makes me want to re-paint my old cupboards in antique white.
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I have always been such a sucker for an antique brick building. There's an antique brick mid 19th century house at the end of our street that I fully intend to buy once I win the lottery.
In the mean time- look at this glorious little cottage!
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Once when I was little we were driving through the country in spring and my mom said "Look at all the Wisteria growing in the woods- I wonder if there was once a house on that spot!"

That must have been twenty years ago now. I always think of it when I drive by random patches of wisteria. It's a nice thought, that if nothing else survives us, perhaps our gardens will hold our memory.
Not mine though, I'm a shit gardener.
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And finally this wonderful slipcovered armchair by a pair of french doors thrown wide to a spring breeze. Hang in there, guys and gals, we'll make it.
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