Mild

This bright morning a few cirrus clouds hovered in the east, and a few patches of more vaporous cloud rested above the ridge, but all were gone by noon. Two enormous white azaleas gleamed at one corner of the back yard, while a residue of brown leaves I never raked decorated the corner of the lawn. The leaves will soon be hidden by the rapidly growing grass, which must be living on what the soil managed to soak up of the late rain. Next week's rain has not yet been canceled, and I'm hoping it won't be— though if the lawn continues to grow so fast, I might wish I could change my mind. I won't change my mind, of course, as we need the rain, but the prospect of all that grass springing up is daunting. It will have to be cut. I dislike the cutting of the grass.

Midday was sufficiently balmy that I opened the windows and let the house air out for a couple of hours. Tonight the outside smells of wood smoke again. The evenings remain chilly, but the frogs continue to croak in the nearby swales. There are fewer of them now, but if rain does come next week their numbers will increase again. There might soon be mosquitoes abroad as well. An early spring means early insects, and early pollen, too. I don't relish itching and sneezing my way through March. But maybe it will turn cooler again. Though there are no cold days on the horizon, neither are are there any hot days. I can hope that, even if winter has given up, this pattern of coolness continues into spring.

I see a tiny spider crawling up my wall.

It's hard to believe that the vernal equinox is still a month away.