I spent the weekend in the company of friends. Two days. All centered around music and food.

Spring days have a nice feel to them. Chill in the morning, warming in the afternoon, chill at night. I can embark on my day’s gardening, knowing the sun will warm my work, and the evening will bring me peace.

I never really think about how many leaves are on the branches of our big oaks. They just hang there, swaying in the breeze, providing shade and shelter to me and the birds and the cats. Then comes the spring molt.

The sap is rising. My plants, squeezed within an inch of their lives by the icy hand of winter less than two weeks ago, are coming back. Lengthening days are pushing the chill hours of night toward the outer boundaries.

The Sandhill Cranes were flying yesterday. Their distinctive clucking call fell from the sky, but I could never locate the flock as it flew by. They were too high and moving too fast.

I’ve always dressed and acted to a self-image I carry around in my mind. Up until now it’s been relatively ageless, partly because it was based on the reflection I saw in my wife’s eyes.

Went for a short walk this morning. Down the drive, out the gate, and back. It was the Tuesday morning taking out the trash walk. I noticed someone did a lousy job of turning around by my driveway. T