Spring!

There's a Toot hair on the far left flower!

Here are some pictures of the earliest flowers of the season. This is my favorite time of year -- when the sun is soft, the wind catches your hair, and the world is green. I suggest listening to Ben Whishaw's reading of Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale" while looking at these pictures.

Buds awaiting their glorious hour

Little suns

A curious red fungus growing by a drainpipe.

These flowers smell the best in the world.

Cheech on a hike

Pond reeds

Cattails spreading their seed

Chee gets to swim in the seasonal ponds formed by rainwater

The very ground is a green carpet

Daffodils!

A very rare glimpse of the Communists' face

The edge of the garden

Wildgrass

Little flowers

Plum blossoms

Toot with a huge stick

Baby birch leaves

Ponderosa Pine about to shed pollen

Daffodils amongst the rosemary

Lavender

The chickens and goats

Batilda (B&W on the left) talking

Mackenzie's Momma -- Aww I miss chicks! How did the party go?

Tracie -- Your adoration of Tumnus made my day! I'm glad others think he's as adorable as we do. I hope you saved the picture for your background ;) Alex took that picture of him when he was a baby and perfectly captured his gentle personality. In this video of the chickens, you can see grown up Tumnus watching me curiously.

Bright Star

Would I were steadfast as thou art!

Jane Campion's new film Bright Star, about the secret love affair between the poet John Keats and Fanny Brawne, is luminous. I must first confess that I am no unbiased viewer. As a lover of the Romantics, I had instilled in me a great admiration for Mr. Keats' poetry ever since I first came across "Ode to a Grecian Urn" and could not immediately understand his beautiful language and command, but was in awe of lyricism. Jane Campion is also one of the most talented directors there is, and she happens to be a woman in the man's world of filmmaking, which makes me all the more fervent in my support. And lastly... Bright Star is a love story told through gripping performances and beautiful, pastoral scenery -- what better way could you hope to glimpse such Truth as Keats' love?

Trailer

I have since taken it upon myself to read Keats' letters to Ms. Brawne, and of course, his poetry. What beauteous, raw talent! I don't cry easily -- I didn't cry at my grandparents' funerals -- and yet I cannot read Keats' work without shedding tears. That isn't only due to the beauty of his words but also to the insight into his heart and mind and the difficulties of his life. Yes, reading Keats' letters and poetry at night is a poor way to fall asleep, for when I read it, I weep and weep.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art--
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors--
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever--or else swoon to death.

Mackenzie's Momma -- I sure hope they got punished. And I also hope you don't have to work with them again next summer. What brutes! I would love to see your pictures. :)