Spring is today, not tomorrow.

It's spring now.
 How can I tell?

There are lemon drops on the table.

 The snow is melting.

The logging trucks are all empty and forlorn looking as they trundle home on roads that suddenly have bans on them.

 The shops in town have half off sales on the boots and scarves I've been drooling over all winter long.

 My Geranium is FINALLY going to bloom.

I'm looking for summer work. *Anybody know of a few good cleaning jobs in the area?*

 Every-other teenager I know is suddenly getting married.

 Mom planted 50 *correction here, Mom says it was at least 100 (small giddy dance going on here)* tulip bulbs while I was in Thailand. I'm dreaming about them at night... Okay... So not quite, but you get the idea.

 I finally took the pine boughs and white candles out of my window sills.

Dear Horrid Hay-Fever,
 I do not like you. At all. And how you manged to find me in March is beyond me. It's disturbing. With no love, Frank 

The sky is blue again.

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Sparkles, Sunshine, Summer, and Serenity

I like sparkles. I discovered this about three months ago. I used to think that only 12 year olds liked sparkles. I bought some, and put them on my phone, and my white board. I think I’m reverting to my second childhood. Or something.  Maybe it’s an attempt at adding some sparkle to the way I think right now. Maybe.
 
Sunshine is not just a beautiful thing. It is needed. I’d like to meet the person who came up with the idea to describe sunshine as “liquid”. It’s beyond my imagination I’m afraid. Sunshine is just so. not. liquid. Vivid yes. Vibrant. And many other things.  But liquid? Please explain.
 
It is time for summer. And flip-flops. And long walks. And swimming. And open windows. And flowers. And freshly mown grass. And thunderstorms. And 90 degree weather. Yes please.

Serenity is a word for me to strive towards right now. Not placidness, like a Holstein cow. But calmness, and graciousness.  And joy in the moment. Serenity means joy in the moment to me.