Let me start right off with “There’s no place like home.” This is regardless of a lovely 12 days in Italy.
Lynne Irons is away this week. The following column first ran on April 20, 2007.
When I moved to the Vineyard in 1970, about to have a baby, I thought it time to get back to my roots and I had no idea where to start.
I am a slave to tradition and the queen of repetition at the same time.
I’m disappointed with hyacinths. A few years ago I planted a shocking amount of them in all different colors.
Monday afternoon was particularly nice. The sun came out and crocuses and daffodils were blooming their little heads off above the snow cover.
The beautiful weather raised my level of anxiety somewhat. I wandered around looking for signs of life in the perennial beds.
I have a tiny resentment about the beautiful weather. Wait, let me explain.
We have had a series of wonderful days, and for February even. I have been doing a bit of heavy work to prepare this aging body for spring.