A blizzard of petals

Seinfeld is life.  That being said, here’s a timely George Costanza quote from Episode 112, The Postponement:  “Spring. Rejuvenation. Rebirth. Everything’s blooming. All that crap.”

As usual, the show’s writers hit the nail on the head.  Who doesn’t feel a sense of rejuvenation and rebirth when the sun finally comes out in earnest, the air is soft and reeks of lilacs, damp earth and apple blossoms, and the days get longer and longer?  I imagine it’s a bit like what a bear feels upon waking from its winter hibernation.

I’m looking out the patio door at our apple tree, currently bursting with fluffy pink pompoms, each of which is comprised of several dozen individual flowers.

Apple tree blooming

Each flower has five petals that shower down randomly when they can no longer hang on, creating drifts in the grass and on the patio.  When a breeze hits the tree–or a dove or jay lands on a branch–the petals create a swirling pink mini-blizzard that lasts a few seconds.  It’s one of my favorite expressions of “nature porn,” if you’ll pardon the term– several others being fireflies, cardinals, diamond dust and sunlight sparkling on water.

sunset on ocean

I’m also a big fan of rainbows, unicorns, butterflies, and fluffy kittens.

kitty in sink
Anyway, spring has most assuredly sprung, and I am revelling in it.  The daffodils are completely over, tulips are on their way out, the hydrangea is sprouting, and our roses are budding.  Everywhere I look around the neighborhood, there are flowers, flowers, flowers–and more shades of green than I can count.

I’m practicing being Present, trying to focus on the many things that are right in my life, rather than the few that aren’t.  I’ve gotten more clarity on what I want in a job and what I don’t.  I’m working on my first book.  I’m trying to love Happy Dog–who joined our family almost exactly a year ago–unconditionally.

Puppy sleeping in tulips

I’m still missing my family and friends in South Dakota, and some days are definitely better than others.

But even though I’m out of Nancy’s yogurt again, this time there’s no need for panic and mayhem.  I’ll just ask Loving Husband to stop at Market of Choice after work.

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