The Apostrophe Blog
This heirloom narcissus—whose name escapes me now—decided to bloom on the coldest day so far this winter, when a wintry mix of rain and snow has insisted on tumbling thickly out of the sky already three times today. The clouds are pale gray bruises in front of brilliant slices of blue. Other garden plants have burst into flower as well—hellebore, camellia, a few scattered snowdrops hither and yon. Even the potted rosemary on the patio next to the fountain is boasting a few pale purplish blooms. It is just past the middle of February. I think there is a new moon hidden in the heavens tonight. I have no questions, no answers, no riddles, no responses to offer to this cruel and tarnished world this afternoon. Only the bearing witness to the stubborn beauty of one returning daffodil. Time and time again.
Interests: Reading, writing, not arithmetic. The art and craft of poetry. Photography. Vegetable and flower gardening especially heirloom bulbs and dahlias. Movies in real theatres. Theatre on real stages. Art in real galleries. Crossword puzzles and, of course, Wordle. Singer-songwriters like Aimee Mann and Patti Griffin. All kinds of music especially 1930s jazz. Venice, Italy! The Dude abides.
- Frozen Mix on the Day of the First Narcissus Bloom - February 17, 2026
- Days Are Getting Longer, Blossoms Are Returning - February 3, 2026
- Acceptance News: wildscape literary journal - January 28, 2026
