Spring at last

On the Mall, late afternoon, 75 degrees, sitting next to Rodin's Burghers of Calais, looking at cherry blossoms in full bloom. In Japan, the cherry blossom is a symbol of evanescent beauty, of life and death; they are glorious and then blow away. I imagine they will be especially poignant this year, as we learn, yet again, that no matter how advanced we are, no matter how well we think we are prepared for the worst case scenario, we actually can't even imagine the worst case scenario and won't ever be prepared when it comes.

Here in DC Spring is, of course, expected and indeed inevitable. Which doesn't prevent it from being a wonderful surprise when it finally comes. We didn't have a particularly harsh winter, nothing like the "Snowpocalypse" that greeted me when I arrived in Washington last February, and other parts of the country have certainly endured much worse than we did. Still, people don't seem to quite believe the weather has turned: I saw both sandals and UGGS today, along with quite a few unnecessary overcoats. Looking forward to three months of wonderousness before the dreaded summer.

Meanwhile, I fly home tomorrow to see my beloveds, haven't seen them since New Year's so very excited. And of course it's supposed to rain every day during the week we'll be back. Which won't be so bad as long as it stays just cold enough to be snow, as we'll be in Tahoe for a few days. This will be the fewest ski days I've had in at least 30 years, and it is hard to take. One more reason why despite what people here like to say, we will be going back . . . .