Sunshine, time and literalism

Spring is a little late this year. Or maybe it was a little early that year. The year E was born, the first spring in our house, the huge forsythia in the back corner of our yard was in perfect bloom the weekend we held her naming ceremony. We had maybe 50 people over to celebrate and early that morning I took some cuttings and put them in a tall blue vase. I thought: I will do this every spring we live here.

Her naming ceremony, I'll always remember, was March 26th. Today is April 4th and the forsythia is in full bloom and tonight, I brought a vaseful of clippings inside. Because of our first daughter I'll always measure the onset of spring by the bloom of our forsythia.

Earlier today, the four of us spent a wonderful afternoon getting acquainted with the girls' new swingset. We spent a lot of time in the backyard, squealing and sliding and chasing and muddying. Before we came in for bathtime E looked to the corner and proclaimed, I love our sunflowers. I looked at her. "We don't have sunflowers, love." You know, she said. You know I call those 'sunflowers.' Because they're so yellow.

Before she went to bed I took cuttings of my cuttings. E wanted to have some sunflowers inside, too.