Working in the green for St. Patrick's Day.

Now that's what I'm talking about! Highs in the mid-70's,  sunny and clear, a light breeze. This is the spring weather I've been waiting for. The joy of stepping out my front door and being greeted with the sweet scent of hyacinths.

Of course, spring also means yard work, but I love that, too. I have been clearing dead leaves from the flower beds and dumping them by the tub-full into the woods or on the side of the road to be picked up by the city. This morning, the little boys next door helped haul tubs of leaves up the driveway after I lopped the dead stalks of the Japanese false bamboo that has to be cut to the ground each year so that it can re-grow. It's an insanely invasive plant put in by the equally insane former home-owners, but I deal with it as best as I can to keep it from consuming the yards of both myself and my neighbors.

As I worked, the kids peppered me with questions: "What is that flower?" ("Those are crocuses.") "What about these little ones?" ("Those are called grape hyacinth.") "What about this little flower that I just picked?" ("That's the bud of a Bradford pear flower. And now it's dead. Please don't pick them. And while we're on the subject, please don't ever again pull the red berries off my nandina bushes. Got it?") "Okay. And what about those Easter flowers?" ("Those are daffodils.") And so on.

I spent all of Saturday evening clearing out the bed by the far driveway. Soon the azaleas will bud out and the lilies of the valley and the hostas will emerge. I worked in short-sleeves until seven that evening. It was glorious.

Today was mostly spent in the tiered bed by the first driveway. I dug up wild onions, removed a million dead leaves, and even uprooted some dandelions.

In the front bed, the bell-like flowers of the pierris are out, and the candytuft surved the snow and continues to bloom.

Yes, my back is a little sore from all the work. But so worth it!