Oh, dear. It's that time of year again. I'm fickle about spring, especially this year as winter kind of...never showed up. We actually just started getting rain last week. I'm hoping for a wet season. I want some cloudy, drizzly, quiet days, before the full-on raucous brightness of summer. Weird, I know.
Out and about today, I saw these camellias and snapped a quick photo. My grandma used to have two huge bushes of them in her backyard--dark and light pink. Every Easter, she would set several blossoms floating in a crystal bowl of water on the coffee table in front of the "davenport" for Easter. It was a special occasion for us. In our family of lapsed Catholics, it was also one of the year's church days. My sister and I would have new dresses and new shoes. Remember the pastel patent mary janes you could get at JC Penney? And the pretty white straw hats, and the gloves, and the little purses? I think my mom went all out one year and we got a whole outfit. Another year she sewed us matching dresses with a chiffon overlay of pastel flowers. I appreciate how challenging that must have been! We each got to choose the color of our ribbon sashes. Ah, memories.
Welcome, spring, melancholic time of year. You are the last season of my thirties. Let's be friends.