"I thought you said it was spring." 

Yesterday was mild and rainy; today there is snow on the ground. This is spring in New England, my dear Puggins. Despite the fickle weather, everything is right on schedule. The radishes are up, the chickens are laying jumbo eggs, and the trees are ready to burst forth in blossom any day now.

This week, I haven't had much time for knitting due to doctors' appointments and other matters, but the last few days have renewed my hope in so many things. I still have more answers than questions, but I am encouraged and very optimistic about the future. Perhaps I will have some good news to share with you soon.

My son has been bravely hobbling along on his sore knee all semester. There is a "loose body" in it--probably a piece of bone from an old injury--about the size of a grape that needs to be surgically removed as soon as school is out. I've been driving him to class so he doesn't have to walk the huge distance from the parking lot to the hall. The college is far enough away from home that it makes sense for me to hang out at the library in town while he's in class. This is a new-to-me library, and I have had great fun exploring it. I found these wonderful books about Leo Tolstoy's wife--a very engaging biography by Lady Cynthia Asquith and Sofya Tolstoy's personal diaries. I do love diaries. You can learn so much about a person by what they choose to record. I keep one myself--a paper record of the past day's events, my thoughts, quotes and snippets about things I've read, seen, or heard. It is a rare day that I don't write in it. Do you keep a diary?

 As violets so be I recluse and sweet,
     Cheerful as daisies unaccounted rare,
Still sunward-gazing from a lowly seat,
     Still sweetening wintry air.

While half-awakened Spring lags incomplete,
     While lofty forest trees tower bleak and bare,
Daisies and violets own remotest heat
     And bloom and make them fair. 

 ~Christina Rosetti, "Who Hath Despised The Day of Small Things?"