23 March 2015


The college I went to boasted "four distinct seasons" in their promotional literature. As I soon learned, that was actually a warning that the winters were frigid and the summers were muggy. Here, we don't do frigid. But we do have seasons, and I think this one might be my favorite. It's the end of the cooler weather, of which I mourn the loss, and the leaves on the almond trees turn red and fall off. 

The coughing spells from the clouds of dust blowing down my unpaved street are over. The mosquitoes are just starting to get organized. Carnival is over and most people have gotten their crazies out...at least until July, when we do it again.

My plants are taking off, some getting ready to bloom. The bougainvillea is brilliant, but a tree with tiny pink blooms is beloved for me and the birds both. There's a pair of black-crowned palm-tanangers nesting in our backyard, near the line where we hang diapers. 

My husband is happy, because we went to a computer store and paid $18 for a TV service so we can watch college basketball. But he'd be happier if my bracket wasn't doing better than his. (BURN.)

And the krem mayi guy is back--a guy with a cooler on his head, selling ice cream bars. He does not play "The Entertainer" on loudspeaker, and if you suggest it, I will be unhappy. 

The kites are lined up on the street for sale--they're rather crude materially, but they're bright and colorful. I want to get one for Peter, and I wonder if someday, he'll think it's tradition to fly kites at Easter. 

It's spring.

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