cherry blossoms and THEN some...

I'm certain the internet has been inundated with images of the DC cherry blossoms- based on the number of people and cameras and photos being taken on Saturday... (and that was just Saturday!). I was one of the masses, enjoying spring, reveling in the blossoms, snapping away with my own little digital and am now uploading for all to see... but I'm also quite certain, despite the millions, there were only about five other individuals who had such a day as this...

We met up for a lovely picnic- despite the CHILLY wind... (it may LOOK like spring... but still feels a little on the wintery side...) 

We had the most impressive picnic: homemade pesto- Beth and Josh, fresh multi-grain rolls- Rita, razzle-dazzle ratatoullie- Juan, raw horseradish cheese and fresh apple cider- Katie, and a fantastic full-of-farmers-market-goodness kale salad- Katie and I. Oh and let me not forget the shortbread cookies Rita made. Like I said, impressive; we were stuffed ticks by the end!

We stole kisses on the sly... (ok Josh did...)
We admired and enjoyed the kite festival. Overhead the air was buzzing with taut kite strings holding on for dear life to pirate ships, dragons, fish, dolphins, butterflies, whirly gigs, curly q's and all sorts of crazy, colorful kites... This photo doesn't quite do it justice. 

We made a group phone call to a certain missing individual...

Ahhh, we had such fun! 

As did, I'm quite certain, many MANY others...  

sweet glee

Many people seem to think it is foolish, even superstitious to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, "what do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now." Yes, evil often seems to surpass good by far. But then in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes at last an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must have hope.

~Vincent VanGogh

Letters

spring is on its way...

Mornings at Blackwater
By Mary Oliver

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,

and put your lips to the world.
And live
your life.

Molly visiting for a whole week...
Two of my dearest friends, and a beautiful collision of worlds...
Easter with Rita, Juan and Caramello....

... and a lovely little whirly-gig...

thin blue flame...

...I woke beneath a clear blue sky
The sun a shout the breeze a sigh
My old hometown and the streets I knew
Were wrapped up in a royal blue
I heard my friends laughing out across the fields
The girls in the gloaming and the birds on the wheel
The raw smell of horses and the warm smell of hay
Cicadas electric in the heat of the day
A run of Three Sisters and the flush of the land
And the lake was a diamond in the valley's hand
The straight of the highway and the scattered out hearts
They were coming together they pulling apart
And angels everywhere were in my midst
In the ones that I loved in the ones that I kissed
I wondered what it was I'd been looking for up above
Heaven is so big there ain't no need to look up
So I stopped looking for royal cities in the air
Only a full house gonna have a prayer...

(Josh Ritter, A thin blue flame)