True Spring

[rejectomorph]

Bright but blessedly cool, a perfect spring day has finally arrived. Pale blue sky is decorated with white clouds that form and dissolve and drift, the birds chirp and chatter, the pale new leaves of the oaks flutter and glow as a soft breeze stirs the sunny air. The dogwoods have begun to show color, the last of the flowering trees to do so, just as the last blossoms have vanished from the peach tree, replaced by fresh leaves. The walkway is littered with fallen camellias and the caterpillar-like droppings of the mulberry tree. The grass has grown tall and lush and its color has deepened, and the lily buds along its verge sway on their tall stalks, about to open. In short, the day would be nothing to sneeze at, were it not making me sneeze. But I forgive the villainous pollens and molds, the worms in the apples, the snakes in the grass, and, yes, even the biting mosquitoes. I don't even regret that the day did not remain gray, as I had hoped in the early hours. I watch the cats doze in the bed of sourgrass while unmolested birds peck at the lawn. There is nothing that could prevent me from being pleased at such a splendid day. Achoo!