The cats are on the mend, but the laundry pile is almost as tall as my dresser.

The first flower—a lone violet—appeared in the garden.

Even the garden seems hard hit by the unsettled state of the world. Everything just waiting, at least in this patch.

Tulips timid, the snowdrops late, but the laughing clematis puts forth its fuzzy buds.

April: shanti, shanti, shantih

Oh no,cats still sick.

More laundry.

The ocean is still here.

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