Forcing the Daffodil

Who knew anyone still read this blog? Not I, said the cat.

I haven't checked any stats for awhile, and given the*ahem* somewhat lacklustre posting over the winter, I assumed only the most faithful readers (hi Mom!) were was checking in anymore.

Nope. In the most gentle admonishment I've ever received, my two aunts this past weekend (hi Auntie M's!) assured me that they check often and sorrowfully remarked that I had not been very active lately. (Of course, they were lovely and quickly acknowledged that it's winter and I have approximately zero impetus to write.)

Then my brother chimed in (hi Yenno!) and said he checked Every. Single. Day. And was disappointed.

EEP!

Every day? I hate taking the time to go to blogs only to find out that there's nothing there for me that I haven't already read. And to have that disappointment every day? And then to know that I'm the one causing it?

Well. This will not do.

(Nothing like a bit o' Mennonite guilt to smash through some writer's block.)

In the gardening world, you can pull a fast one on Mother Nature by forcing spring bulbs - planting them and then putting them in a cold, dark place for a few weeks. After the roots have started, you can then take them out and put them in a bright, sunshiney spot. They're fooled into thinking it's spring and they burst forth in technicolour.

(Not that I have tried this. I have black thumbs. But I get the theory.)

Time to bring this blog out of the closet into the bright sunshine and fool it into thinking it's spring. Let's force this blog, shall we?

Here, in writing (which apparently actually gets read), I am committing to blog in March EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Yup, you hit your little PGT linky-loo every day at the same time (well, ish - might want to make that time 11:30 pm for this to work properly) and you will be rewarded for and inspired by your efforts.

Actually, rewarded and inspired might be a touch strong. This is a promise of quantity, not quality. There may be pictures. There may be conversations overheard on the bus. I may even resort to recipes.

But I will be here, pretending it's spring and bursting out of this frozen ground. See you then!