in these crystal spring mornings, we will fly like birds
Monday, May 9, 2011 at 1:36 PM
Bitty in bento 2.0 baby!, bento box - french bistro, hall house - yard & garden, home, pacific northwest paradise

This is the view from our kitchen door and back porch to the back patio and yard. I took it late in the morning yesterday, just after one of several heavy rains that happened throughout the day, each followed by a bright burst of sun, although it was so chilly out there I expected to see my breath while I was snapping these pics.

I've mentioned peripherally that spring this year has been totally crazycakes. And by that I mean, totally non-existent. We've had weeks -- nay, months -- of endless rain, rain to an extent that's unusual even for here. But more than that, constant cold and unrelenting gray. Day after day, for weeks and weeks at a go, with only a handful of days where the sun has even appeared, let alone been out long enough to dry things out or warm things up. Maybe not even a handful.

Now, I am completely content in this weather. I love me some spring, and I've missed not having a real spring like I've gotten used to here, but the days and days of rain haven't bothered me. But even I have noticed the just how relentless it's been, how my fellow PNWers, native or otherwise, have slowly gone bugshit as we rolled through April and now into May with it still feeling and looking like February.

More to the point, I can't help but notice how Nature herself has been in a state of suspended animation, waiting for the sun and the warmth to signal it was time to get in gear. In fact, most everything seems to be about two months behind: the lilacs have just started to bud in the last week or so, tulips are only now finishing up, and the azaleas in our rockery still haven't opened up. That is cah-razy, you guys. These are flowers that normally start blooming in March. Mid-April at the latest.

And like all the flowers and trees that seemed to explode at once at the first sign of sun and warmth, everyone seems to burst out onto the streets in manic fits of activity, as if to cram an entire season's worth of spring into a single day. All Summer In a Day, life imitating art.

    

lunch, french bistro:

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