A wet garden

It rained all evening last night, and this morning I stepped outside to find a very wet garden. The maple and dogwood trees were drooping under the weight of water. The damp earth yielded quietly under my feet. Everything felt softened, even the bittersweet feeling that had filled me on this morning of my birthday. I recalled a song I used to know as a child. The lyrics went something like this: "Rain and tears are the same, when you cry in the winter time, you can pretend it's nothing but the rain."

Lilac

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land. Mixing

Memory and desire. Stirring

dull roots with spring rain.

T.S. Eliot,  "The Waste Land"

I want to stand the whole day under my father's lilac tree, its perfume filling me with memories of him. He's been gone for exactly a year today.

A lovely day

Another beautiful, sunny day. We are going to have dinner outside under the trees. Spring comes so much earlier in California, something that always take me slightly by surprise every time I come back here.

Flowering dogwood

The blossoms on the dogwood tree are about to burst open. For a week, they will light up their corner of the garden with their cheerful pink color. Every year I wait for this moment.

My dad's Peony in Bloom

My dad's peony plant, a gift for his last birthday, is blooming gloriously without him.

Leaving for California

6:30AM boarding my flight for San Francisco.

Jean-Philippe's Book Launch

Jean-Philippe's book launch was well attended despite a rainy evening.