Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Spring minutiae




The tiny violets and their offspring have woken up in the gravel just outside the sliding door.



And the mint on the other side of the door barely has a fighting chance. It found its way into my gin and tonic last night. As I type, the temperature is only a few degrees above freezing.


By August I will kick at the tangle of mint that snags our ankles as we step outside.

August. An impossible country.
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