So before anything, I go down and bake granola. I know. A strange way to herald a sunny day. But it's the energy thing: you want to do it all.
Of course, we eat breakfast in the sun room.
After, Ed asks -- will you water some of the recent transplants?
I say -- I can't! Class to prepare! Work to be done! And it's true. I can't do much of anything in the morning. (Ed, quit being such a distraction!) Maybe admire the first of the daffodil blooms...
And I do want to leave extra early so that I can again bike to work. I mean, if not today, on this sunny (though cool) day, then when?
But in the early evening, I am home and outdoors again, fixing the damage of chipmunks (there are NO pansy blooms left after last night's pansy orgy), watering transplants, raking and clearing a space for an iris garden.
Spring was so long in coming and in many ways so much more difficult for me to navigate that I almost forgot how extravagant it can be -- how luxurious and electrifying. You may not think that there's magic in the air yet, but take a look at the daffodil and lily extravaganza exploding around the farmhouse.
Gorgeosity. Look hard. It's so there.
