A scouting party, from Spring’s advancing legions, arrived at our house this morning, with blustery winds, rapidly changing skies, and that sharp clean smell in the air of good things and good times to come. Everything seems to have come alive to embrace this new feeling: Plump catkins suddenly adorn the nut trees, daffodils thrust themselves up from the soil, and the willows get ready to burst their little pussycat buds. I am urged to wrap in a warm quilt and sit somewhere in the orchard just to savor this brief time. I am sure my four dogs believe this a grand idea, also.
It is said we do not remember days, we only remember moments: Perhaps my first step outside this morning was one.