Here's lookin' at you, kid.

Name that movie quote.

This Spring break I made a list of things I wanted to do. Here's what I did:

- clean out my car
- write letters
- go on picnics
- run
- sleep in the hammock  I slept in them hammock, I read in the hammock, I ate in the hammock, I laughed in the hammock. Needless to say, I love that thing.
- play frisbee
- thrift store shopping I didn't get anything, but I went twice. I may go back and buy some records and really cheap picture frames.
- spend less time on the computer and more time outside The weather was perfect for this!
- read I didn't finish Delta Wedding, but I did read it and other good books on my list.
- pick flowers One day, I had to stop and pick a handful of Wisteria. It's blooming everywhere, and I love it!
- play piano all day long Okay, so I didn't play all day, but I did play.
- add to my memory jar
- knit
- get a tan I'm not exactly tan - but I'm not so white anymore!
- drink lemonade
- blog

I even finished a few that weren't on my list:
- take senior portraits
- apply for a job
- have an outdoor movie/pizza night

 It was a wonderful week. Here are some Instagrams from my life lately:

Memories of Spring

Why is it that I always feel the urge to write late at night? Why does my mind work best in those quiet moments just before I fall asleep?
These questions are left unanswered. I can't tell you why this is - but tonight I'm taking advantage of it. (That, and I can't sleep. It's that Sunday afternoon nap, I tell you. And the bug buzzing around my room probably has something to do with it.)

It seems to me that memories are best triggered by smell. The sweet fragrance of the patches of yellow and white honeysuckle bushes wafts through the air. At the smell, I remember Springs past: running barefoot over the soft, green grass, bouncing, flipping, jumping on that old, worn trampoline while the metal springs whine and screech in rhythm, or playing as a pilgrim in a lonely, consecrated cabin in the prairies, or a passenger on a boat, or a superhero with super strength, or the power of flight or X-ray vision, fighting the good fight in an old warehouse -- all from the real protection of the four walls of the wooden tree house which took on many forms back in its prime.
I thought of those soft giggles of dear, little friends, the wild, silly games of Tag, the enticing fear of slipping from the safety of a wood plank, the fence, or trampoline onto the "lava" ground. I saw the bright sunshine cast its rays on familiar faces, and of course, I remembered the piles and piles of sweet, luscious honeysuckles we plucked from the bushes and sucked and sipped on until there was not one more drop to be sucked or sipped.

What is it about childhood memories that is so bittersweet? Perhaps it's sweet to revisit happy, simple times and places, but bittersweet to come to realize these are times and places we will never again live in.

Yesterday I was reading outside on the back porch. The weather was perfect, but the sky looked something like this...

It was as if the black, menacing clouds wanted to conquer the bright, blue sky. Or perhaps it was the other way around...
In the end, the blue sky was victorious. The angry clouds scurried East (I think), the sun shone much brighter than before, and the birds came out once again and sang their happy tune. It turned out to be another lovely Spring day after all.

Blue skies, blooming tulips, and backyard picnics.

It just doesn't get much better than that. :)

Spring

"The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month." -Henry Van Dyke

...I'm still waiting for that first spring day.

Sunny with the high of '75

Spring.

Warm weather.

Picnics.

Bike rides.

Doing homework on a blanket in the lovely shade. (Homework stinks. A beautiful day outside, however, does not.)

Sunshine.

Oh yes.