Musings on a Sunday

It’s spring time here in the neighborhood.  The trees are telling it from house to house.  The Bradford pears are transitioning from white blossoms to green leaves, just a shade lighter than the new grass.  Most of the lawns have not been mowed yet, though they will be in dire need of a trim after only a few more days.  The warm green grass has cool tiny spots of purple and pale blue violets scatted all about and those odd purple weeds have popped up in the ditches and along the drives.  Dogwood trees are abundant on our block with one in front of just about every third house.  They burst forth in glorious white flowers a couple of days ago and are now a mass of white petals.  The addition of Red Bud trees here and there make a walk around the block a visual feast.

Children are the most noticeable harbinger of warm weather if only due to the volume of their voices announcing small victories such as a basketball through the hoop or reaching the bottom of the hill on a skate board without a tumble.  I am not sure what number would constitute a gaggle, but what seemed to me to be a gaggle of boys on bicycles came zooming down the hill as I was going up this morning, smiles on their faces and the usual taunts of “You can’t catch me” and “Watch this” tossed from one to another.

Folks that have seldom been seen through the winter are now engaged in serious porch sitting and across the fence visiting.  This winter the dog and I trudged along empty, dark streets almost all alone and unnoticed by anyone.  Today we were greeted by a child, a neighbor or another dog pretty much every few feet.  I can’t decide which I prefer.  Probably depends on where my head is on a given day.  On this day I like it just as it is.

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Musings on a Sunday

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