Spring!

Happy camper here. I've been kind of down the last few days - well, not down, just listless - literally. Usually I have lists of things to do to spur me on, but recently I had nothing but the usual - cook, eat, clean, sit at the desk and fiddle. Hardly moved and felt like a barnacle stuck to a rock, like I've spent two years sitting in this kitchen chair staring at the garden.

But today! It's a true spring day, brisk but sunny. I joke that usually at 9 a.m. on a Monday it's winter and by noon it's summer; spring was a few hours that morning. But this year, day after day, we've had a real spring, warm, cold, drizzly grey, hot sun. The garden is springing into green. I've forced some forsythia and cut some daffs along with the mums to bring such welcome colour inside. At last. 

The vase was a hand-crafted wedding present from my beloved Patsy in 1981. I feel her here.

Last week - already there are more green shoots

Soon. All that's there, waiting. What a miracle! 

The first bike trip in months to the farmer's market this morning, most people in masks, some not. Home to dance on the deck with Nicky's Zoom dance party. This afternoon, off on the bike to Crow's Theatre to see a matinee of George Walker's new play Orphans for the Czar, which has had rave reviews. Then to walk and have leftover Passover dinner with Ruth. Could that be a better day? 

Wednesday Thomas power-washed the deck, which now is almost its original colour, not a dirty green-brown. I signed up for a week's free Apple TV so I could watch CODA, a beautiful film that made me, of course, cry. People say the plot is obvious and clichéd, but who cares? It's worth it just for the powerfully moving face of Troy Kotsur, the deaf actor who won the Oscar, let alone the others, all wonderful. 

Thursday teaching one of my home groups and my son over for a visit and to go out for dinner, what a pleasure. We're such good friends, so much to talk about, including the New Yorker, which he reads as avidly as I do. It's his last week without his pup, whom we go to get next Saturday. 

Yesterday, nothing. Tried to find other stuff on Apple TV but gave up on Severance, Ted Lasso, and Macbeth. Fussy fussy. Just not in the mood. 

The world is dire. It hurts to read the news. Talk about going to hell in a hand basket. Planet earth is doomed. 

But it's spring. I'm reading essays by Terry Tempest Williams and Margaret Atwood, but someone with fantastic taste left this pile in the Free Library and I took them all inside. So much to read, so little time.