I am full of it. Well, I'd better clarify that one. It's the joy of living I'm full of (no matter what my dad says). Seriously, just Friday on my way home from work, I counted three totally unrelated people who were walking down the street while playing rowdy air-guitar solos. Then there were the couples walking hand-in-hand, and the moms out jogging behind strollers. My tulip bulbs have already yeilded prolific foliage. This week, I will take copper pruning sheerers to last year's dry rose canes and hear the hollow thunk of renewal.
A couple of days ago, baking quiche, I got teary from the musical clapping of knife and cutting board. The graphic beauty of tomato slices in full bloom on a bed of cheese? Let's just say that one put me over the edge. I stared at the bowl of oranges on my freshly polished kitchen table for a ridiculous amount of time.
It all comes down to this: It's spring, people, and I am in love!