Jaci Dawn

Spring is big news here. The rest of the Nation has been having a “warmer than usual” Spring, but we have not. It’s been wetter than usual (not that I can tell: it’s always wet in the Spring time here), but it has not been particularly warm. We had snow mixed in with the rain on Thursday morning of last week.

But today dawned clear and sunny.

It also dawned cold: Portland set a new record for cold this morning: 31 degrees F. When I left the house to take Harvey to the dog park, I saw where my husband had scraped ice off of his windshield.

Today was Harvey’s second trip to the dog park. I’m getting braver about it. He was very responsive to me and kept coming back to check in. The only time I was concerned about him was when someone brought in a very shy, submissive dog and that dog rolled over onto her back while five big, bolder dogs converged on her. I called Harvey back to give that poor dog some room.

My rubber boots sprouted holes in them, so we had to go to Wilco Farm Store to get new ones. I would have stopped at BiMart, but in the weird wisdom of department stores, they have already put away their stock of rubber boots. Here, in the Pacific Northwest, where Spring = MUD, you cannot purchase rubber boots in the Spring time. Those are considered “winter wear” and are put away when the bathing suits are put out on display. Only feed and farm stores carry rubber boots year round (because feed and farm people understand MUCK).

Once again, Harvey was the hit of the store. Every child inside the store had to stop and pet him (they all asked permission first). Harvey adores children and I am sure he was just thrilled with the three little preteen girls who loved on him.

No pics, sorry. I am not yet brave enough to try to carry a camera AND the remote to Harvey’s shock collar AND try to control Harvey on a leash. Eventually, that will come.

I hope.

The boy and I came home and he hung out in the back yard while I cleaned house. TIED UP in the back yard. Harvey is on restrictions because one of the signs of Spring is Spring Fever. And for Harvey, that translates into: “How to dig my way out of the yard…”

My husband was livid when he caught the dog. Harvey was halfway under the fence. Probably the only reason he had not escaped is he is currently grossly overweight.

So until I can get more chicken wire and barriers to digging put up, Harvey is relegated to being tied up unless we are outside with him.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I really won’t dig anymore. Um, my toes aren’t crossed, either…”

It was nearly one or 1:30 before I got the first load of laundry finished, but that sun was shining and there was a brisk east breeze and…

It has to be one of the first signs of true Spring: a clothesline!

I love clotheslines.

Last year, my sister-in-law stopped by. She had her son and his girlfriend in tow. The girlfriend looked at the clothesline and asked, “What is that thing?

My nephew dead-panned: “You did not just ask that question.”

She did. She’d never seen one before. How sad is that?

Here’s a sign of Spring: the Camellia is in bloom. It’s the only time of year I like the Camellia. And it only lasts until those lovely pink blooms fade and fall onto the ground and turn into brown mush. I hate the Camellia.

The Camellia is probably going to get cut down this summer. The last few winters have been cruel to it and the extended branches are compromised.

I won’t miss it, except in the Spring.

The wild violets are blooming. My mother’s favorite flowers from her childhood were wild violets.

Her second favorite flower was the wild yellow rose that grows in the high desert of the Great Basin.

Another smiley face of purple.

I purchased this vase at a charity auction a few years ago. I have no idea what the name of the art work is, but I call it “Fish Woman”. It only gets used in the early Spring, when the flowers are short. It’s a strange design for a vase. I use it as a bud vase. Bud vases are hard to find: most people think of cut flowers as having long stems.

Fish Woman is holding the purple hyacinth, Creeping Myrtle (Periwinkle), Violets, and the Anenome. It has to be an Anenome because that is what I planted where it grows.

Oh, and there’s Forget-me-nots in there, too.

I love Forget-me-nots. Mine came from some flyer a realtor left on my door knob several years ago. If only she knew that I worked for a real estate company and I would toss her card in the trash and forget who she was. But i planted the flowers.

And, yes, I know they “grow like weeds”. And the seed pods get stuck in Harvey’s fur. But they are pretty flowers when they are blooming.

I reserve the right to call them stupid flowers in the summer, when I am brushing the sticky pods out of Harvey’s fur.

Last sign of spring: we saw a big old bumblebee today.