It’s Sunday Night, and I’m Tired or Life Begins Anew

It’s spring here in North Carolina; the trees have leaves, the glorious wisteria is hanging from the trees, the dandelions, so different down here from the ones up north, are up and blooming, and I just mowed part of the lawn. Even my stubborn maple that I brought with me from Upstate New York has finally decided it’s safe and is starting to send out some buds. Even after two years, he still thinks he has to wait until every other tree has its leaves on before he trusts that it’s spring. That’s a tree with a long memory. (I don’t know that it’s a “he.” I’m just…