But peek out they did, and what a show, but they lasted such a short time. You'd think they would hang around a bit longer after being so bored and sleepy all winter. And to be honest, we were so happy to exclaim with guests how grand they were. We can only thank the hearty soul, who many decades ago, long before the house became a B&B, spent such time bent over digging in Lancaster's great soil.
Graciously, other plants, whose names I am still learning, and some I may never know, are following suit. The hundred year-old lilacs (they became trees instead of bushes long ago) showed their fragrant pompadours just after.
And so many others colors throughout the neighborhood. Flowering Japanese Magnolias in our lovely neighbor Kimberly's yard, those pink puffy trees I don't know the name of, and the largest Forsythia bush ever in the history of mankind.
Somehow though, at dusk, in back of the main house, there was a magic we fell in love with.
The excerpt below from the poem "The Enkindled Spring", by the great British novelist and poet D. H. Lawrence, may say it best, at least from an innkeepers view, all the different flowers stopping by like so many guests, to share their grand faces for just a little while.
"I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration, Faces of people streaming across my gaze." - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21415#sthash.aHzbUS9l.dpuf