an auspicious start

When we woke up this morning, it was spring. The vernal equinox! A momentous day, to be sure.

It was misty and gray on the way to drop Frances off at school, so after we came home I made paper cranes out of last week's homework and Gabriel painted them in lovely jewel tones. Soon the sitter came with her four year old son and I escaped to the downstairs office to work to the muffled sounds of pretend dinosaurs, rocket ships, and high volume squeals that could have been expressions of delight or distress - it's hard to say - so I eventually made myself a much better work soundtrack (my new favorite Pandora station, Wye Oak).

After Gabriel and I had lunch, I baked these cookies (wrong season, but tulip-shaped sugar cookies just aren't my scene) while he played "lepidopterist" by drawing elaborate butterflies and then pretending they were mortally ill and in need of tending.



By the time we picked up Frances at school, the weather had turned glorious and the children played with an exuberance particular to this fine season. At one point my two were kneeling before an outdoor xylophone with two dear friends of ours, each of the four children wielding a stick and whacking away to his own rhythm (the genius of this instrument is that it sounded pretty nice). As you can imagine, four flying sticks in the vicinity of four tender faces did not remain in harmony for very long, but it was delightful while it lasted.

 Exuberant, I tell you!

Before dinner, Mike stayed with the kids while I went on a short jog around the neighborhood. When I passed a favorite neighbor on her front porch, she called out, telling me to take another lap and come back for daffodils. Which I did. Which she handed over to me in one enormous, glowing bunch.

I ran home gripping them just under the blooms in a tight yellow and orange cluster, thereby getting a taste of what it might be like to run with the Olympic torch through residential streets. A smile on every porch and corner!

After dinner and cookies and Gabriel's bedtime, Frances took Ramona Quimby Age 8 onto the back deck and read in the rapidly fading light while I planted spinach seeds in the garden. I could barely see her by the time I was done, but I could hear her guffawing. When I came onto the deck she looked up in a panic, pleading with me: "Don't make me stop! It's the best part! Ramona just threw up in class!!"

Oh my goodness gracious. I hope this first day was just as beautiful where you are, too.