The winter-encrusted inhabitants of this drafty house are agog at the most gladsome of all tidings: spring is here! It is here! It is here! Glorious. Insistent. Blustery. She’s a grand dame, is Spring. I should be writing. I could be cleaning. I would, I would…but it is 77 degrees outside! The day that a season elbows her way back into our lives is a cause for celebration, not concentration.

I’m as happy as Clara Bow with a beach ball!

This is where I put words about how the contented chirping of birds, barking of dogs, and mewing of small children have all joined to create the newest soundtrack sensation. Ice cream trucks, green shoots of plants I am constitutionally unable to recognize but overjoyed to see, and motorcycle engines belong here, too. Tank tops, sandals, and Margaritas for the win!

The front porch boards are warm beneath my feet.