Seeing a ebullient spray of forsythia yesterday brought memories of New England in spring and childhood whic included Stuff What Grew at our house. I hadn't realized how much I loved forsythia until I moved away from it. It means Spring more than anything else.

Summer had more definitive moments and signs. The twice-yearly putting away of the/picking up of hte clohtes. Putting away your winter stuff and hoping like hell you were not going to need parka, boots, snow pants, mittens for sixth months and that the moth balls would kep them safe. And Summer of course meant camp and no school, the Good Humor truck and loading up the car and heading to Barkhamsted Reservoir for the day. Spring though meant practicing my flute on the back steps (sorry to my neighbors, at least it wasn't bagpipes?) and being able to stay out after dinner as it got lighter later. Nothing like here in Seattle when at the height of summer it's still light at 9:30 but still...forsythia and Queen Anne's Lace, violets and pussy willows, money plant (which now grows here at my house and I still cut it and put it in a vase, remembering. Learning as an adult it's "Lunaria" which makes such good sense, but it's still "money plant" to me.

Yesterday, when i saw the bright yellow cheer of the forsythia, I thought of Mom and how she painted her condo,this last place she lived and her favorite of any place she'd ever lived a bright fantastic yellow that I adore. I didn't know my mom was that "daring" if you will; I suspect most women in their 80's don't choose yellow for their walls. It was a fantastic choice.

Today, the newspaper carried a story of a new book. I AM A DANCER by Jacques d'Amboise, a hero to mom and me. A brilliant talent, d'Amboise has brought dance to thousands of school kids. An exotic looking guy with a fancy name from Dedham, Massachusetts, d'Amboise has received Kennedy Center Honors and a Macarthur "genius" grant. I would have bought the book and then sent it to Mom.

So it's spring. Enjoy those moments, won't you?