It’s kind of cold here in the Mid-Atlantic still, but the forecast is calling for temps in the 60s and 70s in the next days. My favorite kind of spring is a rarity in Maryland: a long, cool spring with the thermometer creeping just a tad higher every day, and never getting lower until - ta da! It’s summer. I can already tell it’s not going to be like that this year. It’ll be eighty right after Easter, then drop to the 60s the day the neighborhood pool opens, then frost as soon as I put tomatoes in the ground.

My other favorite kind of spring is one where I can watch the slow parade of bulbs blooming. It starts down the street, where the neighbor planted snowdrops thrity-some years ago and marches on through crocus and narcissus, hyacinths and tulips. Plus all the little lesser knowns that add to the show.

I don’t have too many bulbs planted in my yard. Every fall goes by and I have only managed a dozen of this, a handful of that. We moved four years ago and I left a garden filled with flowering spring bulbs. I still drive by once a week every spring and try to remember each variety and when I planted it.

A chorus that goes along with those memories is my voice singing to my children, “These aren’t onions, they’re not for eating. They’d make you very sick and maybe even kill you.” I have no problem scaring my children if it means I can plant swaths of poisonous daffodils. I mean, hey - if squirrels know not to eat them, the kids should at least have the same info.

What are signs of spring for you? Anything deadly?