Even the dying tree by the trash bin at work is perking up.

Wait…there is no spring here, at least not one a northerner would consider worthy of the name. Here we go from bare branches to full blown leaves with no pause for odes to the season in between. That may be an exaggeration but not by much. No falling icicles, no rich earthy smells as the sun and melting snow instigate the Big Spring Thaw, no muddy roads or mud vacations. But the wind…oh yes, the spring wind…that we have. April wind is to the high desert what April showers are to the north—except for the part about May flowers. However, I am gradually re-learning to re-love every sunny dust mote of this sometimes magical, sometimes annoying place.

Susanna and Chloe celebrate the rites of spring.
The sun sets on North Fourth.

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