Red-flowered witch hazel

The snow is still deep. I continue to need to use snowshoes to get to the compost pile. I've yet to swear off long underwear, and the woodstove remains fired up 24/7. But there are signs, subtle to be sure, of a slow but steady movement towards spring. There are birds starting to call, and the robins have begun scrarfing down the holly berries, which the winter has finally softened and mellowed. A number of small flies have appeared on the snow, as well as on the cedar shingles that line the sides of the house. I think the maples buds are a bit bigger, although, without actually measuring them, this assessment might only be wishful thinking. But when I visited my spring witch hazel shrub, there could be no doubt about what I was seeing. The flower buds, shuttered tight to the world only last week, had opened, and the red thin petals were just starting to unfurl. The stalwart little shrub is not our native Hamamelis, which blooms yellow-green in October, but rather a hybrid crafted from a variety of parents. I can't locate the ID tag buried under the snow, but I think this one goes by the name of Diane, and she draws high praise: the Royal Horticultural Society's Award of Garden Merit. The first blooms are a wonderful sight for winter-sore eyes, and Diane certainly merits my honors as well.