The flowering cherry trees, which line the road in front of the garden, are in full bloom. This year, they are particularly spectacular because the weather has been benign.

There is nothing like a few days of sunshine and warmer temperatures to hustle plants into growing. For the first time in three years, the plums are blooming, and it isn’t raining, which means the bees will be busy pollinating.

This flowering quince is a promise of spring. What a contrast between last week and this week. The snow is gone, and though the temperatures dropped below freezing for a few nights, the sun made up for the cold nights. Spring is on the way.

March came in like a lion after lulling us into thinking that warm weather had arrived. The plants aren’t fooled. They are growing appropriately for this time of year.

I photograph this same clump of daffodils every year as they are my phenology plants in the garden. This year, they bloomed a week later than last year. The daffodils are more accurate than my memory of whether the spring will be “early” or “late.”

There were times this past week when I wanted to pick up the entire garden and move it south by a couple of Plant Hardiness Zones because I am ready for spring temperatures and spring planting. Unfortunately, I do not have that capability! So I will just have to be patient.

Here it is, the first hardy plant declaring it is time to start growing. This is the rhubarb waking up from winter. Before we know it, we will harvest full-sized stalks for whatever rhubarb goodness the kitchen creates.

Yes, it’s time for crocuses and witch hazels to bloom. The few sunny days this week do not spell the end of winter; we are only halfway through, but the flowers are right on track for the season.

It’s been a quiet week in the garden except for the sound of rain. Snow and ice are a faint memory washed out by mild temperatures and rain, rain rain.

Our winter storm lived up to all the predictions. After a modest amount of snow and several days in the 20s, the next incoming storm brought traffic-snarling, plant-coating ice precipitation.