I noticed that last year I took some photos of the garden searching for signs of spring. And I found them: blooming primrose, budding hydrangea leaves. So this year when I look at the blooming crocus (the only sign of spring out there), I tell myself it's not so bad. Spring will come and everything will bloom again.
Then I notice that the date on the photos from last year is March 16. MARCH. SIXTEENTH.
This effing winter has killed everything.
What my garden used to look like: