This is becoming, as they say, a forsythia stan account. But it's all so brief, this early-spring glory, that I feel I have to document it again and again before it's gone.
Here are my redbuds on the verge of blooming:
Not that the color really shows up yet, and it might be hard to photograph well even when it does, but you can see the blooms swelling on the branches, against the earlier-morning clouded sky.
The main news here is that last night Dora overturned my Sunday-night-in-Lent glass of wine onto my laptop keyboard. We won't go into how she managed this; suffice it to say that she did. My Macbook was eight years old and on its way out anyway -- I was never entirely happy with it, to be honest, from the very beginning, but anyway, now it's dead, seemingly beyond all hope of reclamation. Fortunately for me, my youngest daughter left behind a Chromebook that still works just fine, so now that's what I have. I've spent the morning syncing stuff, but now I'm up and running. In many ways this is a preferable solution, since my phone is also an extremely cheap Android running Google everything. I feel sure my husband will be urging me to buy a new Macbook because I deserve it, but truly . . . once I get used to the keyboard and figure out how to do things like em-dashes and accents correctly (all much easier on a Mac), I'll be fine. I have all my Word/Outlook suite available, and as long as I can print from the Chromebook, I should be in as good shape as I was before, if not better.
On the other hand, image-wise, I've gone from this --
-- to this:
So now, in terms of laptop aesthetic, I'm a cool eighteen-year-old girl and am probably going to get my septum pierced any minute now.
Or not, actually. I can't even think about it. My progeny are braver people than I am.
I have another new poem up, this one at Amethyst Review. It's one of a series of haiku-stanza poems I did in a phase when all I wanted to do was look at Japanese shin-hanga prints depicting rain.
The New York Sun is slow getting the Poem of the Day going on Mondays, but this week's are all mine, by which I mean I chose them and wrote the little intros. I don't know whether I'll get a byline -- they seem not to know yet that I exist, except in a brief mention as "a North Carolina poet." Anyway. It is all me this week, regardless of what the byline says.
Aaaaaand, wearing today:
Purple bamboo swing dress, marble-patterned bamboo leggings, Birk Floridas, all secondhand. This lovely warm weather is going to leave us later in the week, but I'm soaking it up while we have it.
Still keeping up the daily wardrobe-tracking spreadsheet.
And it's back to work.