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!