I took advantage of the unseasonable eighty degree weather today, and cleaned off the porches.
How welcoming the warm Spring air felt, renewing one's spirit.
Neighbors walked their dogs, birds fluttered back and forth busily fluffing their nests.
I hummed along to the wonderful Irish music of Colm Mac Con Iomaire.
Later in the afternoon I worked in the potting shed, sweeping away the cobwebs, and making order out of chaos.
The First Sergeant brought home this sweet little sign, "Spring You Seed, Summer you Weed"
Ain't that the truth
An altered look about the hills;
A Tyrian light the village fills;
A wider sunrise in the dawn;
A deeper twilight on the lawn;
A print of a vermilion foot;
A purple finger on the slope;
A flippant fly upon the pane;
A spider at his trade again;
An added strut in chanticleer;
A flower expected everywhere ..."
2 hours ago