First Day of Spring

Winter turns to Spring at something like 1:30 this afternoon, and it's supposed to snow tomorrow, but small dog and I went walking yesterday and saw tulips and crocuses in bloom. I always mark first daffodil siting in my calendar, so that should be any day now. Whooo-wheee!

Lins and I would have been home by 6:30 St. Patrick's Day night -- I called that one right! Know thyself -- but we stopped for ice cream. Two cars. Same place we used to walk to in high school. We were laughing, though, when we left the restaurant where we sat iat the bar and watched people. Three Nuns were just coming in. Stay-out-later partyers than us.

I thought I had lost the ability to get Jonathan Schwartz on the radio on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. Sarah knew how to do it, and saved my day again, so I was sitting here beginning to listen, wasting some time, when the very loaded "Moonglow" began to play. This is a trigger song for my family -- My Dad played it on the piano, even though he really didn't play piano, my Mom titled her spectacular reflections on widowhood, "It Must Have Been Moonglow," my brother had it played it at his wedding. It played at my Dad's funeral, too. It was their song and it became our song. I closed my eyes and listened to it Saturday -- to Benny Goodmans noodlings and doodlings and flourish. Music with tassels.

The happiness drew me in this time, instead of the grief.