Today the trees were in full bloom, at least some of them. It was also a rainy day, and chilly in the Northeast. Like, 40 degrees, early March chilly. Yet the blossoms hung in there, through the wind and the rain. They seemed to be crying out to have their picture taken. I was only too happy to oblige.
Meet our cat. He’s an old guy now, we’ve had him since before the girls were born, probably going on fifteen years. He doesn’t have a name. In fact, I can’t even guarantee he’s a he. He’s pretty low maintenance, just sleeps all day. Don’t even have to feed him. Don’t have to clean a litterbox. Don’t even have to bring him in at night. Or in the winter. He just hangs out in the garden, sleeping. You can see he’s got a ragged left ear. He got that when the bobcat plowed out sidewalk one winter and he was too close to the sidewalk. Doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s like a lot of cats. You try and say things to him, he just ignores you. And when I rake out the garden and plant some new plants, and lay down some fresh mulch, he’ll do what he always does: lay there without a care in the world.
I know I should post some kind of picture referencing Shakespeare. 400th birthday today, after all. But I’m not a terribly big Shakespeare fan. And before you vilify me and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, let me add that I was an English Lit major concentrating on British and American lit. I took two separate courses on the Bard, and came to the most learned conclusion that I’m just not into him.
So, instead, let me redirect your attention to my daughter on her bike, taken today, the first day we’ve had to pull out the bikes and enjoy the warm weather.