Climbing Out of Dormancy

I don't know what to write about this week.  Life goes on, and sometimes it seems so obvious or repetitive that there's no apparent sense in documenting it.

Or, on the other hand, I have great ideas, no time to write them down, and then forget them.

So.

Apparently, it's spring.

After over a decade living below the Mason-Dixon line, I still am not ready to accept spring when it arrives.  I always wait for one last March storm to blast through.  Here, we've had a freeze every Easter weekend but one.  So it may be another month before I believe the daffodils' promise.

Still, I'm not above taking advantage of every lovely day that's offered!

We've left Rosie's old (pre-fence) dog trolley up for just this purpose.  How fun to see these sheets rippling in the perfect breeze.  I was suddenly transformed back to the countryside where I grew up, driving by long lines of clean white sheets, pastel shirts and even the occasional bonnet hanging behind the Amish houses.

I, however, hung my underwear inside to dry.

Another blessing of these early warm days is for Rosie.  The mosquitos and other irritating bugs have not yet emerged, so we often leave the back door open for her to wander freely in and out.  Her preferred state of affairs is for both her pack members to be home, and outside in the yard.  That way she can keep her eye on us, and still enjoy all the entertaining sights, sounds and smells of the world at large.

This is not an exciting post.  That seems only natural; now is a time for preparation.  I've been cleaning parts of  the yard bit by bit; weeding, pruning, even dragging the mower around to trim the weeds.  The grass is still dormant; every bit of green you see is weed.  As usual, there is more to be done than time or energy to do it.  This week Miss Chef and I had a lovely convergence; we both took Friday off.  And spent half the day running errands, the other half working at home.

In preparation.

Tomorrow, we're going back out to the US National Whitewater Center.  It's supposed to be 74 degrees and sunny, and not only are we going kayaking, but we're planning on buying annual passes.  Besides kayaking, there is of course the rafting (starting in March...brrr!), trail bike rentals, two zip lines, climbing walls, and plenty of other stuff I'll probably never try!  There's also apparently a great 4th of July weekend, though we'll probably be too jet-lagged to do more than stare blearily at the fireworks before heading home to bed.

Speaking of jet-lag, our trip makes this spring a different season of preparation.  The garden will be minimal--last time we left in the summer, it was ravaged by rabbits and drought in our and Rosie's absence.  Plus, much of my time and attention will be turned toward things like buying good walking shoes (thanks for the recommendations!) and researching the difference between Oyster Cards and Travel Cards.  I just checked out some guidebooks from the library and am surprised at how long and intently I find myself reading nonfiction.

I suffer from an odd spring fever.  As soon as the temperature climbs much above 70 for the first time, I droop.  So it will be a while before I'm truly possessed by the season, ready to tackle the outside chores with unexpected fervor through the last of the sunlight.  Simple steps; I must be patient with myself.

In the meantime, I planted coreopsis seeds among the daffodils.

For you Smoky fans, here's an updated photo, from our friend's camera phone:

Omigosh, she's turned into a CAT!  How unexpected!  (Oh, and she's "manning the printer," being as helpful as ever.)