Spring is sprung, the grass is riz

I can look out the window of this apartment Wendy and I occupy for part of each month, and as I glance down from the fifth floor balcony I can see the length of the street below and what I see is a mass of pink. This little side street is possibly the most blossom-festooned in the known universe. It’s awesome and awe-inspirit in its beauty. The photo only captures a tiny part of it.

The foregoing was by way of saying that it is finally spring in these parts, and I cherish the spring and always long for it. It has been a long and disgusting winter this year, more so than it normally is. But now all is turgid (love that word) in its fecundity. Buds are bursting forth and daffodils and tulips punctuate the statement that the world is no longer sleeping, but is coming forth as it has since time-immemorial, and I hope it will a few more times for me and for everybody else. Spring is a time of life and rebirth and that is a good thing.

I don’t ‘do’ the chill of winter. I don’t like cold and I don’t like wet. And the older I get, the less charmed I am by it. Even though I was born and raised in these climes, I have been elsewhere and long for the warmth that can be found in the tropics or in the desert. By warmth I don’t mean searing heat, I just mean John Denver-like sunshine on my shoulders. I have no desire to be in the southwest in the 110-plus temperatures of the summer, but Palm Springs in February is awfully nice.

So, now it is spring and would like to wish everybody a wonderful and warm springtime.