Life goes on.
Even though it's still too cold to wear shorts (except for about 15 minutes at one in the afternoon), the plants still progress in their plans, mostly.
This particular grass sprouts in the same place year after year in the spring. For some unknown reason, I never pull it out before it sends forth a beautiful head of seeds, right about the same time the poppies bloom. It's a weed, and yet it's also a promise of summer; usually by the time it looks like this we've been in swimming for a while.
I haven't pulled any of its brothers and sisters out of the interstices of the patio planter -- I think I want to see the grainy seeds ripen and know that eventually, warm weather will arrive.
I surely do want to feel that happen.