The dogwoods are in full, exuberant flower–there’s a legend that they were used for the cross bearing the Christian Jesus, and that their flowers bear nail-marks in sympathy. Lilacs are beginning their dramatic show, the white violets have returned to simple green growing but the purple ones are a creeping mat of flowers. Lithadora and vinca still putting on a good show, as is the alyssum.
By the time the dogwoods bloom spring is irreversible, and I let myself believe winter is over despite all my armor of coping. (If I expect the worst, I cannot be disappointed, only wearily unsurprised or happily wrong.) Plus, it’s getting warm enough for the bees, so I have to be ready for them to attempt nesting in my hair during walks, or crawling into my mouth or ears during a run.
Miss B is holding steady. Though it won’t be long, this is not the week she’ll leave me. I am…grateful, for that. Give me another week, a few more days, a few more hours. I will use them well.
Have a lovely weekend, my dears. Be gentle with yourselves, and each other. And since it’s Friday the 13th, remember our vow: Do no harm–and take no shit.
Over and out.