It is springtime and there is magic in it.

Yesterday I sat on the sidewalk shoveling dirt into pots with my hands, replanting the strawberries Mom dug up from her garden to give to me. There were so many little buds of strawberry plants hanging on for dear life, I had to keep going to the backyard to find more empty pots.

This morning I woke up to birds singing--birds singing and a face full of lavender roses beside my bed. I ate strawberries and Nutella on crepes, with a big white mug of thick pulp orange juice. I opened the windows and ate in the morning light.

At lunchtime, my roommate asked if I ever go to the park by our house to read. "What park?!" I said. Turns out not five minutes walk from our house there is a massive park, with trees you can build forts inside and a pond and bridges and plenty of grass. And swings.

All anyone needs to be happy is swings.

This weekend is Maiden Voyage 2 of the flyrod. I don't name inanimate objects, but if I did, his name would be Henry. Or, come to think of it, Rod would be better heh heh. And by better I mean more apropos. Which is French for fitting.

It is springtime,

and there is magic in it!