Is it really you, Spring?

I may be jumping the gun here, but it really seems like my Belle (aka Bella Donna) is feeling a little better after just a few doses of glucosamine and aspirin (as it turns out, though, she won't actually "eat anything." Gotta hide that shit in the raw meat she gulps down in hunks, or, as I did last night, pry open her jaws and poke it into the back of her throat. Good thing she loves me). It may be my imagination, but she seems to be hopping, or at least, climbing a little more quickly, onto the couch and the bed today. Right now, she's recovering from a brief Frisbee-free but stick-heavy (yours truly was throwing like a major leaguer, too) session on the green, green grass of Patterson park.

It really does feel like Spring today--it smells like it, even. It's warm enough here in the Charm that a denim-clad Hispanic dude was napping on that green, green grass, and my t-shirt and hoodie were more than enough to keep me warm during our walk. Of course, all that sunshine is just about enough to make a girl forget she's been down in the dumps recently, though the shift in attitude gives me a kind of deja vu--doesn't this happen every year? That many of us (as the foxy Rouge pointed out in her comment on my bummer post, and has blogged about a bit herself) get the blues, on a level that could lead one to look into pharmaceutical remedies, just before Spring springs? That, in the words of lyricist Gus Kahn (best sung by Mama Cass) "the darkest hour is just before dawn?"

Or it could be I'm bi-polar and on a manic streak. Whatever.

In other Spring-y news, in case you were worried, the tree in the churchyard across the street, whose early-seeming buds I was freaking out about back in January, is fine. It is blooming like crazy right now, and is totally gorgeous--it's one of those white and pink tulip-y looking flower trees. WTF are those trees--magnolias?