|Too wet to play outdoors|
Looks like we’re repeating last spring’s weather. Now and then we’re gifted with an absolutely gorgeous interval, surrounded by gray, drizzly, grumpy days. At this moment we’re again being deluged, with rain washing in bucketfuls over the windows and turning the scenes outside into impressionist paintings. This spring, every sun break makes us stop, look, and enjoy. I’m reminded of a poem by Don Blanding I found many years ago.
(What I should feel, I suppose)
Spring is Nature’s teen-age daughter,
April eyes and petal cheeks
Blossoming through maidenhood
To womanhood in transient weeks.
(What I really feel)
Spring is Nature’s teen-age daughter
Doing things she hadn’t oughter.
Wish I were as young as spring. . .
I’d be doing the same darned thing.