The past 5 days have been amazingly warm, and all around us are signs that the world is coming back to life. The forsythia is blooming its wild, golden beauty all over the hedges and streetsides of our neighborhood; the daffodils are nodding their yellow heads, and the trees are bursting with green buds getting ready to share their glory. The kids found their first large, prickly wooly worm and promptly trapped him in an old salsa jar. When he was looking a little lifeless after a few hours, I suggested we transplant him back to the yard. "Yeah, Julia said, "I really don't think he likes that leftover salsa smell."
The kids have grown too much over the winter, and their long pale legs look overgrown in last summer's shorts. Already we've had bike wrecks, and big wheel mishaps, to welcome the arrival of "summer knees." Everyone needs new sandals and haircuts (the yard needs a haircut too!)-we look as though we've been hibernating for the past 3 months, and it feels like we have. With sadness, we said goodbye to the hundred year old maple tree in our yard that barely survived last winter, and didn't make it through this one. Our house looks exposed somehow without that giant protection of the massive limbs. Unfortunately, we worried about one of those limbs taking out a car or our living room, so the tree had to go. We're left with a massive pile of mulch and enough fire wood for the next three winters. Every kid in the neighborhood has been over to dig in the mulch and climb the huge log piles.
Still, I'm glad it's spring with all of its changes, new insights, and new stages. It's a time of renewal. Ian's been learning about flowers ("I saw some blupines," he yelled the other day), and especially gets excited when he finds a patch of buttercups. As we were walking into my office building a few days ago, he saw a handful of bright yellow daffodils. "Look", he shouted, "this place has grown up buttercups!"
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