*Lyrics from Aretha Franklin’s Baby, Baby, Baby from her album I Never Loved A Man The Way I Love You. Classic. Though in this case the baby I’m talking about is an actual baby. You know, of the 6 month old variety.
Beauty shot: I wish I could paint this image.
Firstly, let’s talk about spring. It’s been a crazy weather year (past 12 months, not calendar year) up here in New England, and spring has been no different. After a snow-less winter (practically) I was really looking forward to the slow discovery that is springtime. First, you notice little changes – trees start to look like they’re greening up, buds emerge from the branches on bushes, crocuses and daffodils and tulips push up from the soil, all teasing warmer weather on the horizon. We wait (usually) for that one warm spring day where you can fling open your windows, where you can finally be outside with only a light jacket, where the cool air is scented with bulbs and warming earth. However, this year spring decided not to tease us burlesque-style, but instead to head straight for the goods, flashing us like a drunken college girl on spring break. We were plunged into 80 degree weather for almost a week making the daffodils pop up and begin to wilt within a day of opening. My normal excitement for the possibility of wearing shoes with no socks, of wondering when (if) the new bulbs we planted in the fall will push through was crushed by heading straight to using the air conditioning in the car to avoid sweating through my short-sleeved shirt (which probably should have been a tank top), and wondering if I’ll fit into my summer clothes yet. Not cool, spring. Not cool.
