Yesterday the temperatures climbed into the mid-eighties. Last night, the winds rushed in, cooling things back off again to more seasonal levels. This morning was brisk and chilly, and we were a bit underdressed. Our hands were tingling when we left, but it was worth it. The changes in the garden this past week were incredible; signs of new growth everywhere. She asked me what was on the horizon, and I said hundreds and hundreds of things, but also tulips. She was determined to find an early bird among the magnolia blossoms, and she did! Pink. Pink like the carpet of petals on the lawn, pink like the spent blossoms she picked up and carried back to school to share. Pink like her jacket, winding ahead of me, and sometimes behind. Pink like our cheeks and our fingers and the brick walks and the apple we split on our drive there. Pink like spring.