Do you have permission to waltz?

"Early in their journey this morning they passed a burnt-out homestead, its brick chimney all that remained of a family’s dreams. Vines were already encroaching and moving in, but there had been a gardenia bush in bloom near what must have once been the front door, and Sophia paused to snip off a bloom. The lush fragrance filled her senses, but it was also a reminder of the dangers lurking in paradise."

 --The Bride and the Buccaneer



Spring has arrived in North Florida, though I understand other parts of the country are still suffering.  I'm sympathetic.  We're not so far south that we don't see the seasons change, so we get that whiff of new beginnings each March, along with a ton of pollen dropping from on high.

I should, in fact, have wiped down all the horizontal surfaces on my porch today since I can't plop myself down without a cloud of yellow pollen poofing up.   Instead I went out and repotted a couple of rose bushes because the roses are doing splendidly, thanks to our unusually cold winter.  I also repotted a gardenia bush and rearranged the placement of my petunias, pansies, marigolds and other patio plants to allow them maximum sunshine to do their thing.  The pansies will fade by May, but the petunias are going berserk with flowers and may do well through the summer.  

I like to sit out on my back porch (when it's not covered in pollen) with my laptop this time of year, soaking in the atmosphere of new beginnings in N. Central Florida.  There are dueling owls who go to work late afternoon trying to out-hoot each other, and the air is still soft and relatively dry and moderate.  By July it's too hot to do much except eat breakfast and supper outside, but for now it's a delight.  Guess I will have to clean that porch after all today so I can take advantage of it.