Well, Sure It's Spring, Sort Of.

I went outdoors with the intention of weeding but it's cold out there.

The only way to justify not weeding was to whip out the camera and capture the essence of an eastern spring. Actually that's hard to do since we don't have one.

I recall my childhood in the west; lilacs burst out in fat blooms, tulips and daffs came and went quickly to make room for summer.

In the east, things are different.

The tulips and daffs have a tough time struggling through snow, thaw, ice, thaw, torrential rain, dry-out, so they stick around embarassingly long, until August.

Here are the miniature daffodils in the back. God knows they're trying.


And here's a bit of action in the front, facing north.


This is the Mama frog I've toted around since a visit to Vancouver Chinatown thirty years ago. she's holding up the daffs while they recover from the last heavy rain. I accidentally plunked her on top of some new bulbs last fall so things will right them selves in time.



No matter, we adore this funny right of passage and we appreciate every sunny day we get. That's why we don't move to another climate.

Harry would like a piece of the action.

Another time, fella.

My Winter Siesta is Over

It's spring and people have been bouncing about shedding winter wear and beaming.

Except me.

It rained hard for a few days and usually I love rain, but not this time.This time, I hibernated. I went so deep inside that a shell walked around chatting with people but I was buried somewhere.

On Saturday morning at 6:30 I lined up in the rain with hundreds of tired would-be gardeners to pick up a rain barrel as a city project.



Things lightened up a bit when I galloped from place to place to observe two of my grandbabies trying out at the Kiwanis Music Festival.

They performed well and were rewarded for their efforts.




This morning I woke to sunshine and hibernation time is over. I'm into spring mode.

This is the view from my bedroom window and you can't see the under-window beds or the fish pond. What you see is promise.



I have this dream--I want a tiny, perfect wooden shed in the back yard. It will have a stained glass window and a cedar shingled roof. And it will be made almost entirely from "found" objects. In this case, Habitat items, all rejects from old buildings and tear-downs.

My carpenter son Steve is returning soon from his nomad wanderings and after a few glasses of wine and lots of conversation I'll show him what I want to do. Okay, what I want him to do.

I think spring is here to stay, deep in my soul.

Not Just Another Pretty Boy

Max had his hair cut today.

This is what was shaved from his furry hide.



And here is one pissed off cat.



We weren't aiming for pretty. The mission was to get out the tangles without serious injury to the groomer or the helpers.

We all got through safely but Max isn't speaking to any of us for a while.