Spring is a time of firsts, a time of beginnings.
Last week, for the first time, I saw these flowers in our yard.
Thanks to the Internet, I was able to identify them as coltsfoot. According to Mother Earth Living, coltsfoot is too invasive to go in the garden. Fortunately, these flowers are blooming on the side of the driveway, by the woods, far from my gardens.
For beginnings: Clif started cutting up the tree that had fallen in the backyard. The wood is too punky for our wood furnace, but we will be able to use it in our fire pit.
Drum roll, please! On Friday—for what counts as big excitement at our home on the edge of the woods—Clif brought out our small patio table.
The patio is now ready for action. And even though Friday was a little chilly, we had our first drinks (and snacks!) on the patio.
How lovely it was to sip rum and Coke, watch the birds and the squirrels, and admire the red buds against the blue sky.
For the first time this week, we heard the exuberant spring song of the peepers, tiny one-inch tree frogs whose small size belies their robust voices that come together each night in a rousing symphony. They sing, “Spring, spring, spring!”
Dee also heard the melancholy call of a loon, which means they have returned to the Narrows, about a quarter of mile from where we live.
As I’ve written before, spring is an old story that never feels old. The renewal, the rebirth, the sights, the sounds are always stirring, no matter how many springs I have seen.
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Book report for Of Time and Magic
Word count this week: 6,006
Total word count: 86, 795
To continue with the metaphor of writing and being at sea…not only can I now see the harbor, but the docks, ships, store fronts, and houses have also snapped into view.









































