Lovely weekend passed us by, really. The rain and the sunshine fought for supremacy, and nicely tied to make it a perfect spring weekend. I stood in the cul de sac in the rain and was neither too cold, nor too wet, and thought "ah, spring!" I could almost hear the earth heave a giant sigh of relief as she quietly went to work restocking her reserves for the long and surely hot summer ahead. The sun would peer around a cloud just long enough to hit the raindrops hanging from a newly unfurled leaf, and it clung to a fern's velvet fronds it seemed like forever before it dropped onto the waiting soil.

I've never, ever, ever been a spring person. I'm more of a fall person normally. That crisp air. Hot during the day, cool at night. Better stars.

Something about spring this year. Maybe things will finally turn out right? The hydrangaes are coming back (although I have lost four to drought). All of my hellebourous are in bloom. My russian snowdrops are in bud. My vincia are blooming like gangbusters, and my creeping phlox. I mean, my yard looks terrible but all my little baby plants that I so carefully planted two years ago and then just ignored last year have come back to me!