In spite of being under the weather, I fired up the mower last night and beat the lawn into submission. We'll be in Seattle all next week, and I knew I'd be sorry if I let the grass go three weeks in a row. A brisk breeze was blowing, but even so, I loved sunset among the blooming violets and tulips, the fragile new shoots of bleeding hearts and peonies, the smell of fresh-cut grass crisp enough to penetrate even my stuffy nose. We've had a long, dreary winter, and it feels so good to get out into the sun, the air, the smells... ah!
The tiny bloom of
humble violets in throng
bring spring’s purple haze.
Tender buds only
just appearing mean lilacs
by May’s second week.
Marigolds bloom too late
after May crushes the bells of
tender hyacinth.
If all the flowers
I loved bloomed at once there would
be none left for June.
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