One of the very sweet pleasures of living in a somewhat temperate climate is that here in the South pansies are planted in the fall. No, not the spring. Not wait until the ground isn't frozen anymore. Not wait until Easter is around the corner. None of that. Pansies are planted in the fall.
So, this fall I planted the smaller version of the pansy, the johnny jump-up. Just love these cheerful, happy little faces. So, bright and full of the anticipation of getting their feet out of the claustrophobic flat and down into the rich, deep earth.
The sun shone, the rains came. They were happy.
And then, just when they were beginning to get comfortable, in blew snow and deeply cold weather. Because that's part of planting the pansies in the fall. They have to tough it out. Things get really bad. They're just not sure they can make it.
They have to put their heads down and struggle through the tough times.
They will. They always do.
And then, before you know it, the sun will begin to shine. And between the delicate, muddy feet of the courageous little johnny jump-ups some daffodils will begin to push their way up, up, up. And the johnny jump-ups will lift their heads to the warm sun and the ruffly daffodils will spread their skirts.
And we'll know spring is here because we'll see rows of yellow daffodils standing up to their ankles in the happy faces of the johnny jump-ups.
I can't wait to show you.
Until then, they wait, these little survivors. Waiting for spring. Making it through the winter.
It will come. It will.
It always does.