Loving Mae's garden

I know it's terribly uninteresting, reading about other people's weather.  But if the facebook posts of my Oregon peeps are anything to go by, I'm not the only one that can't help gushing about how much I am loving the sunshine and mild temperatures.  Well, mild in the afternoons anyway.  This morning when I left for work, it was 29 degrees outside and I had to scrape ice off the car.  Because I abhor being cold, I was dressed in a wool coat, hat, scarf, gloves, etc.  Then when I left the office at the end of the day, the most efficient way to carry all of that was to don it once again and head out into the warm afternoon sunshine.  I felt vaguely ridiculous (though not as ridiculous as when I had to arrive at work wearing snowboard pants); but I am definitely not complaining.

The garden is declaring that it believes spring has sprung, although rain returns mid-week.  I'm hoping we don't get a last blast of winter or the fruit trees are going to suffer.  Usually, clear skies in February are accompanied by highs in the 20s, not the 50s.  Our trees have been tricked into believing we've fast forwarded to April.  Could be a bit of a shock if March roars in like a lion.

We are blessed with literally thousands of daffodils inherited from the old dear, Mae, who was born in this house and lived here for over 70 years.  Well, I'm not sure if one can refer to her as an "old dear," since she was a firecracker who swore like a sailor, liked her whiskey straight up and is rumored, in her day, to have entertained gentlemen in the upper rooms of a nearby tavern in return for remuneration, but she kept a beautiful garden.  Here's a little taste of its exuberence: