Spring

Sitting at the table with the door open to the garden... it's spring outside, finally. Not that winter was very long this time. I guess it never is. After a while you get used to it. I wouldn't want to miss it. Not winter, not spring, not summer, not fall. I love seasons. People bitching about the weather make me want to kick their asses. What good does complaining about the weather do? As the saying goes: There's no bad weather, there's only bad outfits. Or something.