Just a Few More Weeks

  I have the unquenchable urge to celebrate when I flip the calendar to March.  Obviously February was given the fewest days of all the months, as it is least tolerable of the twelve.  Even Valentines Day does little to redeem such a disappointing month.  I am as sick of winter by the end of February as I am of the last piano student in the recital when my child played a half hour before.  
  But now it's March and there is hope contained on the page of 31 days spread before me.  The lion can roar a few more times but I know the lamb will have the last laugh.
  And this little bud on our dogwood tree is just as giddy as I am!

No Place Like Home

As happy as my Mom and Dad are to be watching their great grand kids in the beautiful village of Me'ry, France, they are sad to be missing spring in the West Virginia hills. So this post is for you Mom and Dad. The Bradford Pear trees have finished blooming, but the Forsythia is a brilliant gold and the purple of the Red Buds are every where. Crab apple trees are peaking and there are even dandelions in your grass. The Dogwoods, however, are waiting for you to return before they open up.


So come home soon!