Feel the burn

Yesterday was gorgeous. Full on, unadulterated, no holds barred SPRING. Spring is my favorite season. It is unpredictable, tempestous, and blissfully hopeful all in the space of a few hours. While our springs may be short here in the South, they are genuine and they are glorious. The yard of our little house is bordered by three different colored azaleas in full bloom, and to my delight, a fragrant lilac. After being in Florida for over a year with it's hateful lack of seasons and never-changing landscape of suck it's like a sweet lover's kiss. The cool breeze caressing my skin, the warm sun filtering through new leaves, the melodic birdsong around the yard. And with all that comes the bird crap all over my car and the brutal farmer's tan I got yesterday doing yard work and lounging around reading outside. Its' so bad it's almost comical. As only imminent melanoma can be!

Last weekend we planted a flower bed with various annual seeds, hollyhock, cleome, snapdragon, cosmos and giant sunflower. They are all starting to break the soil, and I'm so proud and excited you'd think I gave actual birth to each one. Over on the side of our yard I planted a line of black hollyhocks. Yes, I said BLACK. They will be fully visible from the road and I think they'll add certain "hardcore" vibe to the place that says "I'm already growing the flowers for your funeral, punk." I'm hoping it will help to scare off solicitors and Jehovah's Witnesses, but if they don't the ever-musical sound of me racking my shotgun will. No, we haven't met any of our neighbors yet, why do you ask? I used to be friendly with neighbors, really. But I had a bad experience, and the telling of it will be saved for another day.

Let's all take a moment to recognize the beauty and wonder of the season while my arms are burning like a witch at the stake.