[foltgee]

I know of a dogwood tree near my home, although through most of the year, it is simply another tree, hardly worth a mention at all.

In the early days of April, when the last frost has finally gone, a dogwood becomes a messenger like Joan of Arc, informing us that it is God's will that Spring is now to begin.

There is no argument the dogwood will listen to. It may snow one more time, or there may be one last maverick frost in the forecast, but that doesn't matter to the dogwood.

Spring has arrived, and that is her final answer.