I remember spring being my favorite season when I lived in Baltimore. The days grew longer and warmer. It was a short season, as I recall. With days long and warm enough to lie in the grass and sleep on the quad numbering only as few before the end of the school year, but still these were by the far the best days after the long, cold, bitter and unkind Baltimore winter.
But I don't recall the spring being as pretty as the spring here. Maybe there weren't as many flowers or I wasn't the type of person than that noticed.
The flowers have started to fall from the trees, and I am sure I am not the first person who has thought it looked like pink snow.
Sam, Clementine and I went for a run yesterday and met Elise and Peter at Starbucks for a post-run treat. Then, Sam, Peter and I walked home through the park.
I jumped and hung from one of the tree branches, then bellowed, "Here comes a pink snow advisory!" Then shook the branch, so the petals fell like snow and floated down into pink drifts that Pete and Sam threw into the air and at me.
We stopped and played at the playground, then finished the walk through a nearby neighborhood, marvelling at the houses. Sam learned a new word, "Gorgeous". And practiced using it, "Look at that house, Daddy. It is gorgeous!" He should be the host of his own HGTV, "Sam's Gorgeous Home".
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He looked awesome, and I had never been more proud.