The azaleas are in bloom! So the dogwoods can’t be far behind. Because I’ve been hermit-like in my hidey-hole too much this spring, I was surprised at all the beautiful color when trekking (ok, driving) through a wooded area yesterday.
I should not have been surprised. My best friend and her husband are celebrating their anniversary today. Don’t ask me which anniversary it is, though—the ’90s are all a blur.
Here’s the reason I should remember this is a beautiful time of year: my friend had been a docent at the John Carlyle House in Old Town Alexandria and knew that’s where she wanted her reception. It’s quite a popular site for wedding receptions, so the weekends fill up fast. Because of her docent status, she had preference and was first in line when registration opened. The young couple behind her said they had scoped out Alexandria the previous year to determine which weekend was the most colorful. Turns out that happens to be the first weekend in May. So, my friend snatched May 2nd from them.
And that’s the story of one of the most beautiful weddings ever.
Sadly, I have no pictures of the wedding. My friend never got around to ordering any photos. I do have one snapshot print of me, but I haven’t bothered trying to set up my scanner. I suppose I could try taking a picture of it with my camera, but that’s too much work for right now. Maybe later in the month I’ll get my act together.
And it’s a no-go for photos of the John Carlyle House. The website won’t let me copy their photos. And my work-around (to take a screenshot with my preferred graphics program) is a bust because I’ve yet to downloaded Paint Shop Pro to this computer.
The good news in all this is that perhaps I’ll have some pictures to share later in the month.
Spring finally broke through last week. In honor of this long-awaited occasion, I got a pedicure (it’s sandal season!) and pulled out my spring pajamas. I have pajamas for every season. Winter is flannel/heavy-weight cotton, autumn is lighter cotton, summer is shorties, and spring is Capri-length light-weight cotton.
After a couple nights with the spring pjs, the weather turned quite warm. Not hot, so much, but warm enough to turn on the air-conditioning. Except our air-conditioning can’t be turned on until May, what with Alexandria city law stating multiple-family dwellings can’t turn off the heat until April 30. (Our heat and a/c are supplied by the same system, so we have to turn one off before turning on the other.) All that exposition is to say the day found me quite lethargic. The night found me pulling out the summer (shortie) pjs.
Just two days later, we had freeze warnings! Out came the long jammies. And they’re still out.
Almost every April we have a hot spell (temperatures in the 90s) without air-conditioning. But this spring is pure whack-a-doodle. I don’t think it’s ever been so fickle as to require three different pajamas in the space of five days.
Earlier this year I’d noticed a dead branch hanging loosely from its base. This spring, the tree trimmers neglected to lop it off. Our maintenance guy says the branches are hollow and they’re afraid to do any more trimming.
He showed me how the branch coming from the base of the tree on the left is decaying. The other tree has a branch where a whole section of bark and “tree tissue” is missing. It’s like looking at a forearm with one side of skin and muscle missing, exposing the bone.
Here’s what I wrote way back in April, 2008 at (the old) Stream of Conscience.
It’s my annual rite of spring. The trees outside my entry are in full bloom, and it’s raining.
I don’t know what kind of trees they are. They sort of look like cherry trees. And the blossoms look like “double cherry blossoms.” They tend to bloom about 1-2 weeks after the “official” cherry blossoms and keep their blooms for about one week. My neighbor (who knows these things) says they’re almond trees.
Every year, at least once during their week of full bloom, it rains. The wet blossoms are so heavy, they pull the branches down so far that I have to duck when I walk under them. That day is my unofficial rite of spring.
My neighbor has since passed away. I was going to end this post by asking, “How will I ever know when spring arrives once the trees gone?” But now that seem frivolous compared to the fond memories of my neighbor.