So I'm out in front of the house, on my knees in the near-mud, leaning way in to shoot the crocuses and snowdrops that are finally, finally blooming—and a neighbor who's running by stops and asks what I'm doing.
"Um, photographing the flowers."
"Why?"
Why?
(So nice not to have to explain why here.)
FYI, not the same neighbor who loaned me her dandelion weeder last summer.
And, knitters —especially if you're here via Mason-Dixon—I swear I haven't forgotten how. Winter F.O.'s to come.
