Signs of Spring.

Here in the UK I think we all do it - after winter begins to throw out its last desperate gasp (only fourteen more days to the official opening of Spring) - we search desperately for the first signs.   I saw a sign this afternoon when I saw the first daisy on the roadside verge.
But then, coming back into the garden, I saw what I had missed - the tete-a-tete daffodils in the manger up against the wall in the front garden were in full bloom.   So there you are - they are my new header now.

And then I read Tom's blog (Tom Stephenson on my side bar) about a rather one-horse town across the pond and JoAnn's photographs (scene through my eyes on my side bar) and they both reminded me of an amusing incident on one of our visits over there.

We were staying near to the Athabasca River and the farmer decided he wanted to go white-water rafting.   I didn't (I am a coward on such things) but as we were being fitted with life jackets I decided I would go too.

From the moment we set off I was terrified.   The farmer and I were at the very back of the boat - the only person behind us was the chap in charge of the boat.   We got stuck on a large rock and this chap called to the other boat and asked him if he would 'give us a push off the rock'.   That was bad enough, but when this didn't work he indicated that he would get out of the boat to deal with the situation.   Frozen with fear I watched as he jumped out, visualising us going down the river sans operator - sort of up the creek without a paddle so to speak.   My fear disappeared completely when I realised that the depth of the water was such that it didn#t even come over the top of his trainers!  Next morning I bought a little wooden canoe to remind me of the incident - and it does just that every time I look at it.