Mid-March, Alabama: A Leucojum vernum; B Edgeworthia chrysantha flowers; C Daphne odorata ‘Variegata’; D split-cup double yellow daffodil; E Ilex vomitoria (yaupon holly); F Edgeworthia chrysantha; G Camellia japonica.

According to the calendar, the New Year begins on January 1, but nature’s New Year begins in spring. When does spring start in your climate? The sight of the first robin used to be a sure sign of winter’s end, but according to Ohio wildlife expert Jim McCormac, you’re apt to see robins year-round now since their migration patterns began changing in the 1990s. If we are judging by the earth and sun, winter ends on March 20, the equinox when darkness and daylight both last for the same number of hours. That date is pretty much in line with the earliest things in my garden—crocus, Eranthis, Iris reticulata—but the saucer magnolias in my friend Tom Koster’s neighborhood in Oakland, California, are already in full bloom by then.

When Louise Wrinkle’s garden in Birmingham, Alabama, presents a surprise every single day, the calendar claims it’s still winter. By March 21, her camellias have been blooming for months, the buds of the flowering quince (Chaenomeles varieties) are opening, and Daphne odora ‘Variegata’ fills the air with its spicy fragrance. The plants were scanned in February.

At least I can count on daffodils to herald spring— early spring—the first one to bloom in my Brooklyn garden, a cyclamineus type, opens in January. The daffs continue to flower by variety, through ‘Toy Boat’ and ‘Irish Coffee’ to ivory ‘Thalia’ until the very last one fades—in early July. Spring daffodils pay no attention to what month it is.

Most people think of daffodils as being yellow with trumpets and collars (corona and perianth), but there are, depending on whom you consult, between 20 and 50 Narcissus species, and over 25,000 named and registered hybrids and cultivars in 13 divisions of the official classification system.

A few times when I was giving lectures, I took an informal, unscientific poll of my gardening audience, and asked them in what month they were born. The response was surprising. Many gardeners were born in the spring. The number one month was April. March and May were close seconds: Aries and Taurus for those of you into astrology (I’m not). Perhaps people associate their birthday celebrations with the coming of the new growing season, specks of green leaves on twigs, the first flowers. I told my findings to a friend, and he said that was ridiculous. His mother was the best gardener he ever knew, and she was born in November. After further discussion, I discovered she was born in the Southern Hemisphere. Go figure.

Many varieties of early May “daffs” in Sandi Blaze’s Connecticut garden.