T.

And still, the muse is absent. Who is the Muse of Bloggers? Whatever her name, she's out partying with Cleo, Euterpe and Thalia. Or maybe I've just run out of things to say.

There's been a winter's-load of rain these past few weeks, and there's a rumor that summer starts in a little over a week. I don't believe it. My nasturtiums finally popped their heads from the soil, and I'd become so impatient with the pumpkins that this morning I dug down a little, to discover a seed with a little arrow of a sprout poking from it. So that means they haven't gone rotten in all the wet wet wet.

I've a hankering for hearty soups and butter-dripped slices of homemade bread. And cobblers and crisps.

(And I suppose I should offer some apologies for the flitty/flighty color-changes I've been doing lately. Can't seem to settle on anything.)