I play catch-up in a lull after a string of all encompassing activity.

I began springtime with shearing. My own. I sent the length to Children With Hair Loss. I feel quite liberated.

The snow recedes. The moss blooms. Lilac buds swell.

The river rises and the ground squirrels play.

We put the younger Grands to work, tiring them out. There is nothing like holding a sleeping child.

We revived them with “Boopa pie”. The winter squash survives.

Boopa entertained the younger grands.

And then napped. Napping. The new normal.