Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Glimpses of Spring

March snow has accumulated as far south as central Alabama as this winter of record cold continues to grasp much of the Northern Hemisphere.  But here in Florida, spring has started showing glimpses of itself over the last five days or so. Though it’s cool enough to wear a jacket in the morning, afternoon temperatures are reaching 80 degrees, the strawberry vines are full of fruit, and the azaleas are bursting with so many blossoms you can barely see their leaves.


This past Saturday, we took Sarah to her friend Hannah’s fourth birthday party at Bane’s Hydroponic Farm.  The kids picked strawberries under a sky of robin’s egg blue, gobbled down cupcakes, and enjoyed talking to a pot-bellied pig.  It’s incredible how healthy it feels to be outside for hours when there is no humidity to ruin the sun’s warmth.

On Sunday, we went to the Gasparilla Arts Festival in downtown Tampa.  I don’t know how many people were actually buying things, but I am happy to say the festival was crowded despite the tough economic times we’re in.  When we sat down in Gaslight Square, at the southern edge of the festival and within earshot of a band, Sarah was absolutely adorable.  She danced around and around in the grass, staying in sync with whatever the band was playing even though the default move she often used – a pirouette with her arms arched over her head – does not exactly lend itself to covers of Jimmy Buffet and Johnny Cash.  It kills me that we left the camera and camcorder at home and were unable to capture that cuteness for posterity.


Some who read this blog probably think I’m obsessed with politics, but I’m not.  I follow politics because I feel a responsibility to be aware of government’s dealings and keep it in check, but at the end of the day I feel a kind of kinship with John Adams, who wrote:  “As much as I converse with sages and heroes, they have very little of my love and admiration.  I long for rural and domestic scenes, for the warbling of birds and the prattling of my children.”

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