It ought to be nearly spring, but we had a sprinkle of snow last night. A bit like confectioner’s sugar over everything, or the fake snow you might see in Christmas dioramas. I bought yellow iris and they are unfolding slowly. So ready for spring. I spent Saturday morning weaving willow branches into the plastic fencing in the backyard. I’d like to get more. My head is full of visions for the small plot of yard back there. The weed-tree took a terrible beating over the winter and needs to be pruned. Right now, several main branches are broken and hanging on, good for neither squirrels or birds, or even me. What I envision: the tree pruned, full of spring and summer leaves, and lots of terra-cotta pots holding plantings of flower and herbs. Maybe something over that fence like honeysuckle or morning glory. Somewhere, roses, jasmine, basil. An umbrella, because the tree has lost its limbs. A small table. Barely enough room to move, but I can imagine reading out there, with chai. The sun is out. The birds are chirping. Is Disney around the corner?