People who don’t usually complain about the weather are complaining about the weather this year. Is it the freezing rain, the winds? Personally, I’m not complaining because there was that one really nice day on March 23rd; the day it actually hit 63 degrees.

My daughter helped put the situation in perspective last week. “Isn’t it true that trees start blooming in Seattle in February?” she asked from her dorm room in Massachusetts where it snowed on April 1st. “I’ve been telling people here about spring in Seattle and they don’t believe me.”

It’s no use trying to win a bad weather contest with anyone in New England this year, but it sure helps me appreciate every grape hyacinth. Back east they’ve been shoveling since Christmas and the snow gets ugly in more than one way. Seattle’s snow doesn’t usually last long enough to get dirty, but in New England more than the sky is gray.

Even if we only get one day of spring per month until July, I am committed to making the most of that one day per month. After all the trees are managing to bud; lawns are green and shaggy. At least once a month we can pretend that spring has arrived with as much fanfare as the first day in winter when the Olympics are transformed by snow.

So far we’ve been tricked by a partly sunny day in February and one in March. News from the dormant months was briefly exchanged along the alleys and sidewalk. A neighbor got locked out of her house in just a bathrobe. A couple had adopted a baby boy. Then we all disappeared again without glimpsing more than a new baby’s nose. Retreating to our lairs has been less bearable each time.

But I’m optimistic. Even if we see snow flurries again what is trying to bloom cannot be pushed back into the ground. On the first Saturday with sun breaks the Goodwill workers on 8th NW couldn’t keep pace with drop-offs as every other person cleaned out their closet, basement or garage. Yard waste bins were fuller than they’d been since fall.

Along 20th N.W. a woman knelt on the sidewalk with her two little boys. They were looking at daffodils in bloom as though they were wondrous. And that in itself was wondrous.

The Farmer’s Market on Sunday has been getting busier every week; teeming with dogs, tulips and nettles and fair weather friends like me. Then came the infamous day hailed as: Warmest Day of the Year to date. Perhaps if the news media hadn’t made such a big deal about it the record could have been broken sooner rather than so much later.

I was meeting a friend for coffee at Honoré Artisan Bakery that day. I love that little strip of N.W. 70th east of 14th NW. I was rewarded when I realized Honoré has added a pastry case to the right of the macarons, bringing the artistry of Parisian bakeries another step closer to Ballard. (Side note: they make their own chocolate syrup for mocha drinks).

Since the weather was so pleasant I decided to visit further. Or as Jodell Egbert at Bella Umbrella correctly discerned, “It’s a good day to be a social butterfly.” From Alonzo Avenue you can see where “The Pantry at Delancey” will be located behind the pizzeria and other businesses on the south side. The love child of three local food enthusiasts, including Delancey owner Brandon Pettit, they plan to offer classes by local cooks and food writers. One offering for a July is a summer youth camp (ages 12-14). “Let’s Tour the Mediterranean” will feature cooking in the morning and art across the street in the afternoon at “Space to Create.”

I stood for a moment in front of the window display just left of the entrance to Bella Umbrella. With all of the spring showers brides have been particularly inspired to incorporate vintage umbrellas into their planning. As I looked at the window display I realized that it looked and smelled wonderful. I don’t know how but the oven vents send the baking smells to an exact spot in front of Bella Umbrella. “That’s why I try to avoid standing there as much as possible,” JoDell told me.

Years ago on an interview I had to describe a romantic spot in less than 50 words, without using the words romantic or kiss. In all my years of all-season Ballard wandering, from roses in bloom at the Locks or the smell of jasmine beneath a full moon I have not come across a place that delivers as much to the senses, as sweetly at that place on the sidewalk on NW 70th. Close your eyes and it’s Paris. Open them and it is Ballard.

And one day, or maybe even for two, it will really be spring.