Sunny and much warmer... and it is entertaining to observe how quickly the chilly, damp, gray days of the very recent past are forgotten.

Our daffodils, which are in a much more exposed location than Vi's, are finally blooming.

Two-thirds of the garden has been turned over. The robins have noticed.

All the maples around here have shed their bud cases, and the apples, serviceberries, and willows are leafing out; but still no sign of life in the oaks, ashes, locusts, or redbuds.

Pax is still heavily wigged out. When we take him outdoors and suggest it might be potty time, he just stares off into the distance, contemplating the ineffable. Pax does not suffer well, but then I find myself, even when I am nowhere near him, moving slowly and tentatively, suffering sympathetically.