It’s still so springy here in St. Louis. Evan and I walked out to lunch (Ranoush, yum) and as we walked, we passed every possible Classic American Small Town Scene.

Children were playing baseball in the street. A little girl was petting a new puppy. Families were sitting out on stoops and curbs, dads were manning grills. Everyone, of course, is mowing their lawn or working in the garden. There are still flowers everywhere; instead of trees, now it’s annuals, shrubs and bulbs. It’s mostly peonies and iris now… the tulips are gone. I have a peony plant that I put in 17 years ago, and it’s still making beautiful flowers.

Evan Swing

At one point (exactly, I might add, at 1:11) Evan and I walked into a block with a sturdy swing, just hanging in the sidewalk from a high tree branch. We badly wanted to swing, of course, but Bill would not have approved (despite him encouraging the boys, when young, to stick fallen mock oranges onto succulent spear tips as they walked through our Tucson neighborhood to elementary school) and so we did not swing on our neighbor’s swing.

But we were sorely tempted.

I wonder how Orangelina is, if she is pregnant yet from Prince Charming, if Mr. Teeth is missing his mealworms, if Miss Fish has been brushed by her friend Jay, my property-mate in Tucson. Luckily there are two cats here, or I might pine away. Wyatt spends most of his days sleeping under our bed, but The Dread Pirate Jasper (aka the Spotted Menace) alternates between having spring fever (which mostly represents by him yowling out an open window or dashing out the open door and having to be recaptured) and sleeping in his rotating array of sweet spots.

Right now, he is sleeping in his little bin on Evan’s dresser, but he will likely rotate through Evan’s sock drawer, Evan’s bed, our bedroom window, and his bin behind Bill’s Thinking Chair by the end of the evening.

The Dread Pirate sleeps

A role model for us all. I slept for almost nine hours last night and this morning, and Jasper, while strongly approving, still made me sleepwalk downstairs at 6 am for his breakfast. I barely remember it; mostly I remember the feeling of relief (the cat is fed!) crawling back into my dreams (all of geometric beadwork, I think).