The temperature hit fifty again today, and the sun shone. The ground is pretty firm now. When Fooboo walked me around the block this afternoon, I spotted only one small patch of ice remaining in a shady spot on a neighbor’s lawn. 

Fooboo is a yanker. I survive these walks, Dear Reader—which are like non-mechanized tractor pulls—though a combination of dexterity, guile, and inborn inertia.

Three days ago, February 28, a robin sang at us from a bare lilac bush as we rounded a corner near our house.

Here in Madison, snow can fall in mid-May. 

But it sure seems spring is here for real, easily a month ahead of time. 

I’ve been sawing up some birch logs a neighbor gave me. But also, I’ve been sitting in my zero-g chair out in the yard, reading a book. Everything’s dolce, I’ve got a whole lot of niente, and it only goes so far.

With a hey and a ho and a hey nonny-no, I’ve been sprung. 

Seek nothing ponderous, Gentle Reader. Hold me to no word-count. Let me be, I prithee.

Enjoy yourself. See you next week.

Blessings,

Larry F. Sommers

Your New Favorite Writer