As the wind picks up here at Blue Licks today, I’m wondering
what weather will be blown in to our area. It turned out Old Man Winters bark
was much worse than his bite over the weekend with an original forecast of over
5 inches of snow, only to see sunny skies and relatively warm temperatures. I
even headed out on the trails to see what early bloomers might be poking their
heads up to greet us. In years past I’ve been amazed at the number of trout
lilies that seem to infest the nature preserve over behind the campground.
Unfortunately though, it appears to still be a bit too early even for those.
While the wildflowers, at least for around here, are not quite ready to say
hello, the daffodils in front of the museum are beginning to let us know that
Easter is on its way. When I was young, my mother would always call them
“Easter lilies,” because they were always an indication that I would very soon
be able to stuff my face with all kinds of candy and maybe, just maybe, find
that special golden egg my grandparents would put out in their backyard for all
the grandchildren to find. I never had much luck finding that special egg,
being the youngest of 7 grandchildren. I blame my older brother. But I could
always count on Ms. Emma’s “Easter lilies” each year to let me know that Peter
Cottontail would soon be visiting. Ms. Emma was our neighbor just down the road
who always had a whole hillside of daffodils that my mother and I would stop by
and pick a large bouquet of flowers for the house. Not sure if Ms. Emma ever
knew we did that, but as far as I’m concerned, she was as much a part of that
memory as the flowers were.
