Springy Saturday

Oh, readers, today was positively perfect out. Blue skies, sunny, warm'ish, Spring'y by god. It's coming, yes it is. Oliver and I high-tailed it to the nursery this morning, the first of which it seemed wise to do so. I've jumped the gun in some years past, bought things that just weren't going to survive nightly temps that continue, tenaciously, to dip. Not this year. I'm waiting patiently like a cat stalking prey on an open plain and today bought nothing more than some potting soil, a few pansies, a sprig of thyme. We bought things to prep, to lay the foundation for a healthy and successful spring. I went to town on my primary veggie bed: out came every surviving plant (insidious strawberries, all you wonderful greens who reseed yourselves annually, a few hearty alliums) which (minus the strawberries) headed carefully into a waiting room; a vat of compost and organic fertilizer was tossed; my pitchfork stood strongly at the ready; a root-discard tub was set alongside; pruners and gloves were found; and lastly, a temporary home for all found worms was established. Oh to till and toil, plunging my hands into freshly turned soil, readying ground for fertility and promise. It was a good and fulfilling few hours. The compost and fertilizer are incorporated, all the wanted plants were lovingly repatriated and watered, the yard as a whole is de-pooped. And I found all manner of new growth, emerging with such hopeful ballsiness from the still cold earth. Go on sedum and crocus!

crocus a'coming


I LOVE Arianna Huffington. Her best quote from Bill Maher's show last night was this:

"The U.S. being behind France in upward mobility is like France being behind the U.S. in croissants and afternoon sex."


An aunt, uncle and cousin came for a lovely visit, J had a ball at a friend's birthday, T packed for his trip, we remembered that overnight time springs forward, another babysitter cancelled. These are the days of our lives. Until tomorrow.