Spring has exploded on us. Sun up at 5.30 and down at 10. This ruby dawn is taken at 5 a.m. through the library window, while the new sprung birch leaves were dancing sun rise polka in the storm.
My garden is a colorful wild mix of weed , seed and bulbs.
Pollen of all kinds are making the air think with dust and all Gunnar's 30 allergies are blossoming too.
I know our garden needs some water, but like my mother, I am superstitious about watering.
It's a cry for rain, that's only too soon answered. My rhododendrons don't agree.
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