I think spring is finally here.
It is 71 degrees, for one thing. And humid! I went to the doctor this morning and I didn't wear a coat, only a sweater, and a three-quarter length sleeve sweater at that.
The best thing: the tiny leaves are starting to grow, spreading a soft green mist among the bare branches.
Daffodils are up.
Forsythia is blooming. Forsythia is not my favorite, crazy yellow shrub. But it is definitely a sign of spring, so I always welcome it, zany as it may seem.
The hyacinths are up, too. They always look a little forced and artificial to me, but they are undeniably pretty in all their varied pinks, purples and blues.
The grass is nice and green, and some people's yards have lawn mower tracks. (Not ours.)
It was a lovely day to drive home with the one working window in the van rolled down, blasting trumpet fanfares from the classical station. I am such a rebel.
If it just doesn't snow tonight, I think we'll be in business.