It’s certainly spring around these parts, a fact I am reluctantly willing to admit now that the season has officially begun. We didn’t get much of a winter here in Alabama, except for a few cold days there in December when I was able to wear my slippers around the house without suffocating. Ahh, memories. Winter is my favorite season. I love snow and cold weather and sweaters, coats, scarves, and boots. I like root vegetables and red wine and hot coffee. I like Christmas and my birthday and snow. Did I mention snow? Did I mention that we didn’t get any this year?
Nonetheless, winter is over and I suppose it’s time for me to stop complaining about its state of nonexistence. Time to go out to the not-a-cherry-tree and take a photo of the blossoms, like I do every spring.
This time it was an amazing act of bravery, I assure you, as the entire tree was teeming with bumble bees. Horrifying. But pretty nonetheless, I suppose, if you are into that kind of thing. As I glanced around me I saw a dogwood tree on the other side of a fence and wandered around in a sort of circuitous manner to get to it and take some more photos. This one was also crawling with various insects. The things we do for art, man.
My winding path, however, took me down to a part on the edge of the lake that I normally never visit or see, and it gave me the perfect angle to appreciate the sunset over the water, the reflections, the wakes left by a pair of ducks swimming around, and the nice framing of the lakeside trees.
With all of this pretty stuff around me, I may as well embrace the new season, even if the the thought of the coming hot weather (It’s in the 80s already and only going to get hotter) does not exactly fill me with joy. I am going to do my very best to enjoy the flowers popping up everywhere, the pleasant neighborhood walks, and afternoons and evenings spent hanging out on my patio, which is where I am again as I write this very post.
Today I bought a little glass-topped table to put outside so I can have a place to put my laptop (or a beer), and it makes all the difference, I think — after all, my lap is usually occupied by a small dachshund.