It�s another incredible spring day and I am going to be wrestling with myself to stay in the basement for the next couple of hours to get some work done instead of going outside to dig holes and fill them full of flowers. I have recommenced my habit of disappearing into the woods with pruning shears each morning to whatever strikes my fancy with which to fill the vases in the house. Right now they are brimming with plum blossoms, weigela and pale pink lilacs. AJ and I picked a small vase of purple and white violets yesterday afternoon that is still looking fresh and cheerful on the kitchen table. I should bring a vase down here to my office so I don�t feel so deprived (note to self: when one �deprived� as �depraved� twice in a row, it is, perhaps, time to investigate the cause).

AJ is having trouble taking his nap. He keeps getting up to peek out his window at his slide, which, after a long winter�s nap in the back of the garage, we dragged out this morning and set up in the narrow swath of lawn between his side of the house and the dense hedge at the edge of our property. After school today, he climbed and slid over and over again as I talked to my mother about the best course of action for a mother�s day present for my grandmother, never mind that I have no idea what to get my own mother. It always seems a little ridiculous to send them flowers, since where they live flowers bloom year round. As beautiful as it is to go down there in the wintertime, I�d miss my annual jaw-dropped amazement at spring. It�s one miraculous appearance after another.

When not in my own garden, I�ve been helping to save one of my favorite corners of woodland. The nature trail that I write of often has been sorely neglected the last several years, and despite my lone efforts, was being overrun with destructive garlic mustard. The last several Saturdays I�ve been out working with a team of others from my neighborhood to get rid of the �noxious weed,� as it is officially classified. The trail is another miracle. It can�t be much more than an acre of land, but it has one of the most complete collections of native wildflowers of anywhere in the state. And now, thanks to many helpers, we can finally see the flowers � acres of trillium, some as big as dinner plates, and trout lilies and Dutchman�s britches at the moment, with bright spots of marsh marigolds at the marshy entrance and the promise of mayapples to come.

Not all of the spring cleanup has been so positive, though. Our next door neighbors have been cleaning and fixing and painting like mad in preparation for an open house this weekend. After two years out of work, they have reluctantly put their home for the better part of the last three decades on the market. It makes us very sad. They have been excellent neighbors and we know they don�t want to go. I fear that whoever buys the place will knock it down and build some McMansion monstrosity � that seems to be what�s happening in our neighborhood of late. You find a little corner of beauty and people always want to come along and mess it up.

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