A gardenful of crocuses
Spring in Vermont: what glory! (If I had a daughter, I’d name her Gloria.)
More later, but suffice to say that we had an excellent weekend that involved spring skiing in 80-degree weather, and t-shirts, at Sugarbush; clearing out the last of the fall leaves and uncovering even more delicate crocuses in yellow, purple, and white. We celebrated Anthony’s birthday dinner by cooking this. And Ellen took us out on Lake Champlain for a sunset canoe ride on Sunday, and then treated us to takeout afterward.
I’ve been a grouch, though. A grouchy brat, spoiled and selfish. I knocked over a plant today and it shattered into pieces on the floor, and the poor rootbound plant just sat there on its side, nothing doing. I forgot my keys three or four times yesterday. And I fought with Anthony on his birthday.
“April is the cruellest month,” but not this April. I’m the only one who’s been cruel. Cruel spring!
