This was under my weeping cherry tree last week.
No. That is not my chair, nor is that my beach towel.
It surely belonged to my next-door neighbors -- a very sweet family with two young children -- but I LOVE that my tree was a spring fort for a day! Why didn't I think of spending the afternoon under the cherry blossoms?
Kids are so much smarter than adults.
Of course . . . there's a chance it wasn't the neighbor children at all. I'd like to think it was Matthew Macfadyen, camping out, waiting for me to come home from the grocery store.
MATTHEW: (thinking) She talks about me often enough. So why hasn't she asked me to become one of her boyfriends yet? Is it because she thinks I actually am Mr. Darcy? That I live in Regency Era England? Because that's only half-true!! And I'd move to the States in a heartbeat, if only she'd give me some kind of a sign -- oh God. Oh God, that's her car! Has she seen me? What was I thinking coming here and camping beneath her tree? She'll think I'm mad!!
MATTHEW topples out of plastic chair and races around side of house to hide.
MATTHEW: (whispers) I'll come back for you, darling. In a much, much less creepy fashion.
CHRIS MARTIN opens window and pops out head.
CHRIS: Oy! You there! What do you think you're doing?
MATTHEW: I . . . um . . . er . . . really like what you've done with your garden! Are those narcissus?
CHRIS: (suspiciously) Yes.
MATTHEW: Wonderful. They're really . . . splendid.
CHRIS: Saaaaay. You aren't that Macfadyen bloke, are you? Because the house is getting quite full, you know.
MATTHEW: NO. I mean yes! I mean --
CHRIS: Scat! Before I call the police!
I'll have to ask Chris if we've had any visitors lately. And here are the daffodils blooming in my front yard:
"Consider the daffodil. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff." -- Jack Handy
Happy spring, everyone! Go sit beneath the blossoms.