About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
-- A.E. Housman (read the poem here)
Spring has finally arrived in western Washington. Flowers are everywhere, the sun is up early every day, the afternoons have been downright hot, and the skies are cloudless and brilliantly blue. It is hard to remember the long, grey, soggy winter - even though we all know that the rain isn't finished with us just yet. April plays this prank on us every year, and every year we fall for it. She warms us up and puts us off our guard with a taste of summer and then, as soon as we've boxed up our winter clothes and pulled out our sandals and sunscreen, she snatches it away and hands us back our sweaters and wellingtons and umbrellas. It is an exercise in enjoying the rosebuds while ye may. And even though it will end probably tomorrow, it still feels glorious to sing out Wordsworth's lines 'Written in March in Early Spring:'
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
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