Tracking the lost hour

This week felt a little bit like they had cancelled spring and were going to go straight to summer, as February’s winter storm showed its stamp on the plants that had already emerged just as the snow and ice arrived. The early bloomers looked alive but battered, with no sign of flowering at a time when, in a normal year, the purple blossoms of the spiderwort hide all the trash buried in this bluff at the edge of town. The air was warm, but that balmy greenhouse warm that feels slightly apocalyptic. I saw one flower on Monday, and took it for a sidewalk invasive, but looking at the picture now I think it must have been a yellow primrose, a native that thrives in unmowed rights of way.

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