The moth trees are a variety of pear tree. The purple trees, whose hues have only grown more dusky and rich with time, are redbud trees and the tulip trees?
Those are magnolias. It was like opening a window into the southern soul when I realized what they were. Unfortunately, the only pictures I have of those are on my phone and I've no clue how to get them off.
There are dogwood trees everywhere and only now are they opening. The delicate, white blossoms sit like tiny china tea cups, thin and transucent, set out on a place mat of tiny leaves, all for a flotilla of elves in the night.
I've never known such a lush and verdant spring. Springs in the northeast are spare almost to the point of elegance, seeing snow on newly opened birch leaves is a common occurance.
As for the insects, our landlord has called in the Orkin man. I hope he has the voodoo to keep the hordes at bay. Yesterday we killed two hornets in the house; we vaccumed them alive. What a way to go. I dread to think what the inside of that particular vaccum bag looks like. Possibly like the lower circles of Dante's hell, only for winged insects.
My hunny recently purchased his dress blues, to replace his class As. I don't know why the Army is changing that around, but frankly, I don't care. He looks damn good in them. Even though it did cost us a pretty penny.
And here is Lynn, saying, "Please Mom. Not this sock. I can keep just this one sock."
