Home from Texas. Missed a potluck. Peter and new WWOOFFer Alyssa are here, and there is much joy in Mudville at the impending return of Kevin. Almost as much mud as joy hereabouts...
Although the redbuds were out in Texas, all we have here are the daffodils. Heck, with daffodils who needs redbuds?
All hands except these working on a new section of deer fencing--the peas will be above-ground in a few days, tasty and tempting.
These busy today with taxes, laundry, organizing poems, grocery shopping, supper, pimiento cheese! All girls will be home for an hour or so around dawn: India is bringing a dozen frisbee-ites traveling back to Beloit from tournaments in Georgia through our kitchen for breakfast.
Spring is when a young man's fancy turns to love, it is said. Will not here detail all that an older woman's fancy turns to, but there is much to be said for the simple pleasures of surviving to see another spring, a vase of daffodils on the breakfast table, and a kitchen full of daughters, farmers, poets and enthusiasts.
And purple martin experts. (Tom's doing a lecture at Bells Bend Park tomorrow on the subject.)
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