Winter is finished. And the thought of spring makes me want to rattle on en francaise. If only I’d paid more attention in French class.
On the Brooks calendar, March 31st is the last day of winter. March, to me, represents the end of gray (skies) and brown (mud). No more scraping sound of the plow.
April is full of the yellow of pansies and the pink of cherry blossoms. (Uh oh, I believe my feminine side is taking over.)
***MAJOR ADMISSION: I really like pansies. The Dearly Beloved just planted some around the mailbox. I think I started really liking pansies in the first grade at Saxonville School, when Miss Lareau (more French!) would put a Dennison sticker of pansies on a drawing that she liked. That meant pansies represented something good. Miss Lareau died not all that long ago at the age of 147. And did you know Dennison stickers used to be made in Framingham? G.M. used to have a plant there too. Damn, times change. And double damn, I’m digressing from my digression. Excusez moi, I need a shot of testosterone.***
(Ahhh…feeling much manlier. We now return to our regularly scheduled post.)
And as if on cue, the last little patch of snow in my yard…huddled in a spot that never sees the sun…finally disappeared Tuesday.