Nature’s coming out party has been delayed a little this year by rain, cold and damp.

But it’s almost here, so time to reserve front-row seats.

Daffodils, grape hyacinths and other naturalized spring flowers have lingered in the chilly April evenings, bringing cheer on gray days. Have there been more of the latter than usual this year? It certainly seems so. (Memo: consult with Island gardeners who keep meticulous weather records.)

At the moment, cherry and magnolia trees are in a starring role around the Island, bringing splashes of color to the greening landscape, matched by pink and white azaleas. The late Polly Hill bred her own hardy azaleas, naming the varieties after grandchildren. They are among the many stunning plants and specimens that grace the beautiful West Tisbury arboretum that bears her name. (Memo: walk the arboretum some Saturday at sunrise.)

Wild pear, also known on the mainland as shadbush or shadblow, is blooming in pale shades of white and cream. Thoreau wrote about the shad, calling it “the whitefingered flower of the sprout-lands.”

There has been weather indoors too lately with the annual town meeting season in full swing, buffeted by political crosscurrents. In Chilmark on Monday many voters were left reeling after an annual meeting that ran to nearly midnight. (Memo: reread William Caldwell for fresh perspective and humor on New Englanders of the seaside variety.)

Herring are running, soon to be followed by squid, stripers and bluefish. The derby has its time-honored place in the fall, but spring fishing has a magic all its own— foggy days at Wasque, cold, starry nights at some Great Pond opening, casting into deep rips and currents with a freshly-tuned rod and reel, rescued from winter dormancy in the shed. Jigging for squid at Memorial Wharf provides a near-certain prescription for a new lease on life.

Farther inland, farm fields have been turned, the rich dark earth ready for planting with peas, lettuce, broccoli and cover crops. Soon there will be fresh asparagus, a crop well suited to the Vineyard’s moist coastal climate.

At Tom’s Neck Farm on Chappaquiddick, asparagus was once grown as a cash crop.

Which stirs memories of a long-ago rivalry among two Islanders who were friends. Like asparagus, the amicable spat grew up overnight — and in fact was about wild asparagus. One of the two friends knew where it grew and looked forward to that fleeting time in the spring when the young shoots would push up through the damp earth around old cellar holes and in certain roadside places. The friend had her spots and never told where they were. She also knew from years of observation that the wild asparagus was ready at around the same time the late narcissus bloomed. The other friend wanted in on the expeditions, promised not to tell if he would be allowed to join in. She declined. It became a challenge.

One day in early spring when the late narcissus bloomed, she set out to stalk the wild asparagus. He happened to be driving by and followed, but she gave him the slip and hiked to the grassy place deep in the woods where a farmhouse once stood and a towering old lilac with double blooms still thrived. It was a place filled with slender wild asparagus.

The friendship endured but the wild asparagus is mostly gone now, lost to development and fragmentation.

On Wednesday the rain slowed to an intermittent drizzle and a thick blanket of fog settled over the Island. Suddenly April felt right again.

And here comes May.