, , ,

Pink Trike

It’s just-spring here. Shoots pushing up, purple crocuses lifting their heads from the wreck of winter planting beds, an earthy smell in the air. The kids don’t want to come inside, ever. 

It’s a good time to break out the bikes and bats and gloves and figure out who has outgrown what. (Answer: Everyone, everything.) Little league has started and this year The Boy’s team color is green – joy! I evaluate the treads on my old walking shoes and take them for a test drive; Mr. K browses bike ads. I put up a new gauzy curtain in the bathroom, open the windows, break out the e e cummings. Yes, you’ve heard that last one before — it’s just (that’s a hint) up there in the first paragraph, too — so this year I will leave you with a little Milne, from When We Were Very Young.


She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
‘Winter is dead.’