Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spring. Show all posts

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Now this is more like it

Crocuses, Pittsburgh, 29 March 2013.

It hit 50F today! Let the bacchanal in homage to the Sun Gods begin!

Friday, March 22, 2013

Finally!

Bad focus, bad lighting, bad photo, but a beautiful sight: The first crocuses (croci?) of spring 2013.

And 4 to 6 inches of snow in the forecast for Sunday night.

So close and yet so far.

Wednesday, May 09, 2012

Think it over . . .

. . . life ain't a four-leaf clover.

A delicate flower for all you delicate flowers and followers out there.

Happy Wednesday. Now get back to work!

Thursday, March 08, 2012

Sprung!

Awwww yeah, got me some crocuses in mah yard, boi!

(Imagine the preceding said in the voice of Flava Flav. You're welcome.)

Sunday, February 05, 2012

Une fleur



Only a fan video for this one, "Une fleur," by Québécoise chanteuse, Stéphanie LaPointe. I'm not quite sure of the lyrics, but the mood, the vibe, seems perfect for this spring-like day in February in Pittsburgh, where it's brilliantly sunny (that in itself a spring-time miracle) with temps aiming toward 50 F/10 C.

I even had a friend in Central Pennsylvania report that she saw crocuses (crocii?) in her yard this week. That's about a month to 6 weeks too early, if you ask me. We normally wouldn't see them in Southwestern Pennsylvania until maybe mid- to late March, being that spring really doesn't get going here until April.

But this has been an odd year to say the least, weather-wise at least. And I have the "spring" allergies and non-stop head colds to prove it.

* * *

By the way, "Une fleur" was, I believe, written by Québécois hipster-dandy-musicien Pierre LaPointe (no relation as far as I know), who is one of those performers I feel I am supposed to like but really feel quite "Gallic shrug" about.

Nevertheless, here's a taste of Pierre, one that has absolutely nothing to do with spring except perhaps in terms of color and spirit.



And the moral of the story is that, Pierre LaPointe notwithstanding, I wish it were spring already and that I were in Montréal.