Spring.

This morning I was informed that the red welt-looking spots around my right eye are likely poison ivy, and shortly thereafter I found a seed tick on my stomach.

A few nights ago, while walking Miley, I heard the trees rustling in the night wind. Do you know what that means? Leaves. When I came home, I found two inchworms in my hair.

Last night I and another person sat out on a curb drinking wine (I from my dino sippy cup*) and talking and watching the moon rise until almost 1 am, and the bats were swooping over the spill pond, and we didn't even freeze.

I'm pretty sure that it's spring.



Also: there is nothing like the smell of calamine lotion. It ranks right up there with sunscreen on the "summer smells" list.



























*who, it occurred to me last evening, is unnamed. How have I allowed this to happen? I think he may be a Harold. Or a Ferdinand. Or perhaps a Harold Ferdinand, which will prevent me from having to make any decisions on the subject. It has a nice ring to it. Harold Ferdinand.