Mother Nature is in full labor in the Willamette Valley. Daylight savings time. Sunny days. Short sleeves. The perfume of daphne (the flower, not the deceased author). What more could a boy and his dog ask for?
We Oregonians are accustomed to the false spring of mid-February. One of those little tricks that the weather plays on us every year. The drizzle stops and the sun makes a Norma Desmond entrance -- for a day or two.
We lack groundhogs. Perhaps an opossum noses around in the daylight and is frightened of his shadow. In any event, our day of delight quickly turns into a Cruise-with-Noah marathon. Eventually, the clouds part and the rain stops -- and we have the type of summers others lie about. I would take a summer in Oregon over any other place.
But this year, we have been literally luxuriating in what appears to be a true spring in March.
During the past week, I have taken a series of pictures to illustrate the walk that Jiggs and I usually take. Michael Dickson has posted a similar series of his walk routine in Michoacan -- to great effect. I will do that -- soon.
But right now, I just wanted to share a few of the vignettes that have brought pure joy to me -- and The Professor.
