Cantrip for Invoking Spring

We wait for temperatures to rise, for the deep snow in the garden to melt and reveal the rich dark earth of our outdoor sanctuary. We wait for sunlight to warm the quiet southern alcoves where snowdrops, hyacinths, daffodils, crocus and tulips are waiting patiently underground to rise up and bloom in all the colors of a northern rainbow.

We wait for Canada geese to come back and fill the skies with their jubilant songs of homecoming, for blue herons to return to their reedy haunts, for great northern loons to call across the lake at dusk. We wait for the eastern Ontario highlands to come alive, wildflowers carpeting the woodlands and rocky hills where we spend our happiest hours, rambling (or rather lurching) along. Homecoming, how I love that word.

Enough was enough on a bitterly cold, snowy morning in early March, and something had to be done. We pottered off to a local market and returned home a while later with tulips in scarlet, orange, mauve and bright pink. 

From their place near a sunny, south facing window, the blooms dazzle our eyes. They fill the little blue house with their vibrant hues and heady perfume, and they are a perfect cantrip for invoking springtime. If only we could share their color and fragrance with you personally this morning - they are fabulously sumptuous.