First big spring storm...

13 May 2026: The first big thunderstorm of the spring is rolling through as I write this. Unlike Jo, who is looking disturbed and about to hide under some furniture, I am grateful for it (assuming it doesn't get too severe). We need the rain and only a few hours ago, I finished planting all of my flowers. 

As I planted the flowers in the bed by the front porch, I thought about how beautiful they were last year and marveled at how small they start. Now it's cool to sit here and think about the work that the rain will do to help them get there.

(Reminds me of the kind of moments I describe in this post: standing in the yard shoveling snow and trying to imagine summer and then standing there in the summer and trying to imagine winter...)

Spring yard work...

12 May 2026: Just finished the lawn and am taking a little break before trivia. 

It's been a busy day, but kind of casually busy, if that makes any sense; no real stress or rushing. Or rather, when I felt like I needed to be rushing and thus stressed, I realized I didn't need to be doing either.

Voted this morning. Planted a little redbud tree sapling tree a neighbor was giving away. Went to the dentist. Went to Walmart to get (more) mulch and some odds and ends. Wandered through Sunny Meadows on my annual annual-buying trip. Came home and kept working on the spring clean-up and prep work I started yesterday. Listened to a New Yorker Fiction Podcast story while I did the latter--a kind of tradition. (Yard work--fall or spring clean-ups--and Christmas light hanging/taking down=New Yorker Fiction Podcast episodes. A little tradition that I quite enjoy as it makes the tedious work more pleasant.) Then mowed the lawn. 

Tomorrow I'll see about getting the flowers in the ground and porch pots. Need to spread the weed and feed, too. I've got a couple of work obligations, but will do my best to stay unstressed/unrushed. 

It's almost like these little yard rituals--a yearly necessity--need to be done before I can settle into whatever summer break rhythm will emerge. 

Five months...

1 May 2026: The new month kind of snuck up on me, but it is, indeed May 1. On my walk this afternoon, I realized it's been five months since my dad died. 

For the most part, I think I am handling this grief pretty well. It is still so hard and sad. I still find myself thinking, "I should tell him that" or "Dad would like this..." and then remember that he's gone, well...more times than I could have imagined. But I think all of that is pretty normal. 

The other stuff that's come rushing in since he died--Brandon's death, worrying about Vogel, my cousin's death, my mom's illness, so much work stress, and everything our government is up to--it's overwhelming. 

Maybe there's a gift in a quiet moment like this one, just thinking about him. 

So...it's been five months. There's been good stuff, too. And we're still here. And it's May, maybe my favorite month?

The lilac bush behind Knutti is in bloom. I snapped some sprigs to bring home. As I write this, they are filling the first floor with their fragrance. Another gift of May and everything that Spring represents.

Ten days later...

2 April 2026: Same spot from this post and already fading, but such is the nature of spring beauty!

She's back!

27 March 2026: It's been so busy that I almost didn't notice when my favorite tree started doing its thing. And then it was rainy most of today. Even in the rain, though, she's beautiful.

Last blooms...

16 October 2025: The zinnias are pretty much done for the year, especially the big ones by the mailbox. I pulled them out this morning, which is always a bit sad. I clipped the last blooms that hadn't started fading, a last gift of summer brought in just before the frost that's expected tonight.

Early October blooms...

2 October 2025: From my walk this morning down by Rumsey Park. These little purple beauties make me smile.

Hiding...

28 August 2025: Someone ran out the front door today and then tried to hide. Or perhaps she just appreciates the new views, too.

Late August blooms...

27 August 2025: It's been dry here again and I am having to water the front bushes, which are still young and vulnerable. When I got home this evening and started watering, I found myself so pleased again with how well this flower bed has turned out. The annuals are thriving. They started out as tiny plants in cell packs and look at them now! The bushes are doing well, too. I am obsessed with the butterfly bushes. I can't say enough about how much this long-delayed landscaping change pleases me.

A summer stunner...

19 July 2025: The zinnias that I planted this year--especially around the mailbox--are doing really well. The bloom below isn't perfect, but it is huge and really pleases me, imperfections and all. Grateful for this kind of beauty.

Jo and the tree...

13 April 2023: Came home this evening after a pretty good day on campus (got some good work done, gave a little speech at the Phi Kappa Phi induction) and opened the windows upstairs so Jo could look at the redbud tree. 

Reminded me of this photo of Wes from just over three years ago, in the early days of COVID, while we were finishing up the spring semester online.

Favorite campus tree...

28 March 2023: Favorite tree on campus is doing its thing again. Spring vibes helping me get through a busy day that also included a double-cat vet visit.

Looking up...

26 March 2023: Snapped this while passing under the trees by University Heights. No prettier time of year. And hoping, praying, hoping, praying that this post's title fits a double-meaning I am willing into existence.  

Honeysuckles...

31 May 2022: The moment I arrived on campus this morning, I got approached--in the parking lot--about being on a search committee. About an hour later, as I tried to get some work done on my Wilson entry, I got an email asking me to take on another project. So I did what I do when I feel stressed and overwhelmed: I took my walk. Stopped for a moment to smell the honeysuckles along the way. Not a bad way to reset my mind and to honor Walt's birthday. 

Yard work...

28 May 2022: Finished the "spring into summer" weeding, mulching, and planting today and then mowed the lawn. So a lot of yard work today, some of it less than fun that other parts. But it wasn't so bad and the results look great. Entertained by three episodes of The New Yorker Fiction Podcast, too, my "intense yardwork" podcast of choice. 

Still want to get some more work done today, but enjoying a bit of vegging out right now.

Lilac crimes...

13 May 2022: Finally giving into an impulse I've had every spring, I finally snapped off some sprigs of lilac from a bush on my favorite spot on campus. I told myself that the blossoms only have a few days of peak left in them and there are so many that the bush wouldn't miss a few. Just a couple of sprigs made my whole office smell lovely. 

So...I did more crimes and brought some to Hannah for her office 

...and snapped off a few more to bring home. 

Whitman would approve.

The batch I later brought home, sitting in my office window.

Pink sidewalks

2 May 2022: That time of year when you come upon the bittersweet and fleeting beauty of pink sidewalks, themselves the echoes of another bittersweet and fleeting time. 

"The Spring Has Many Silences"

16 April 2022: 

"The spring has many silences:
Buds are mysteriously unbound
With a discreet significance,
And buds say nothing.

There are things that even the wind will not betray.
Earth puts her finger to her lips
And muffles there her quiet, quick activity…."

Full poem by Laura Riding Jackson here. 

Both the dogwood out front and the redbud out back have flowered in just the last day or so. Sometimes I find myself just caught up in staring at them. The miracles of spring...

Spring planting...

6 May 2021: Took a trip to Sunny Meadows Nursery and got my plants for the season. I will plant them over the next few days, but got a start today on the porch flowers. (A few are actually annuals from last season that I took inside and made it through the winter.)

Makes me happy...

Blooming out front...

9 April 2020: Little dogwood, doing its thing out front.

Also an anniversary of a kind of big day, one of the best of my life. The 24 hours that started when I heard my name? Magical.

One year ago. So much has changed, but I am still so unbelievably grateful for that day, those 24 hours, the lovely happiness of that spring and early summer, and what it has meant since then. The memories make me smile.