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Confession time

3/14/2014

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In the scheme of things it's not anything major, this confession.  It might not even be worth noting.  Fact is, I don't particularly like spring.  I know, how can I possibly call myself a southerner and not list spring as the tip-top, over-the-top favorite of the four choices?  And, after the winter people across the country have endured, you'd think I would be more than ready to welcome the busting-out extravaganza of it all. 

I am more an autumn and winter girl, preferring the settling down to the ramping up.  But, that's a topic for another post, and I will take what comes next and enjoy it.  Armed with the camera, I'll allow myself to be drawn to backlit flowers.  And, I promise I won't complain about the pollen and the impending heat (much anyway). 

Tal and I have begun working in the yard, this being the first spring in our Lexington home.  There isn't much early bloom that we've spotted so far.  Certainly no blubs.   A few azaleas.  One very nice Japanese magnolia.  We're engaging in what we're calling "gardening by subtraction," cutting down everything that's been badly pruned or allowed to get overgrown and digging out everything that is diseased or dead.  Doing what we probably should have accomplished six months ago.  The gradual reshaping is a pleasure in itself.  And, I feel an unutterable joy at the growing pile of fronds, limbs, vines and whole shrubs we'll have to haul to the street on trash pickup day.

So, I'll refrain from fretting about spring.  There is plenty to be accomplished and to be enjoyed.  While not everything can be my favorite, I can embrace what is and be grateful whatever the season. 
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    For most of my 60 years I have let the question "what is this all about?" dwell somewhere in my being -- in the forefront at times, frequently banished to the depths. It's persistent, that question.

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