It was a long and cold winter of the serious kind. Not since the Winter War have there been such big pillows of fluffy white. Highly enjoyable, were you six. I’m not six.
Frankly, we doubted spring would ever come. It did, eventually, like a bona fide miracle. Like watching Jesus walk on water. Like world peace. Like smoking in a bar.
And the flowers came in. It appeared I have green thumbs, because the twohundred tulips I planted in the autumn became the talk of Pleasantville. Purdy, so purdy.
Time to tippa-tappa (Scarlett’s definition of walking on the beach). Time to dip a toe into the sea. Hello summer, why don’t you stay for awhile?