Yesterday I drove down Murphy Rd and the long rows of cherry trees were at their most fleetingly beautiful–when the blossoms still linger but half the tree has already turned toward green rather than it's earlier puff ball of pink foam.  A day or two maybe do they look like that, but so beautiful that I almost wish I could cature it forever.  I can't though.  Believe me, I've tried.  You just have to be there, exactly at the time, seeing it for real. And even your memories won't keep the true beauty of it until you see it again and are reminded.

Cherry blossom season in Tennessee is much shorter than in Washington.  I feel sort of wistful at how quickly it's passing.  Maybe because of that, or maybe because I've just plain lost my mind, I've dressed in a yellow blouse over a green tank today, with jeans and bright green flats.  Taking a stand for disintergrating daffodils everywhere by dressing like one.

Is it too early to eat lunch?  Should I just keep pouring coffee down my throat?  I am so sleep deprived I feel on the verge of nervous break down.  I just couldn't stay asleep last night no matter what I did.  This morning, however, I would really like to be asleep, oh yes I would.

Birthday count: 18 days.

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