You know, I read the thing saying that I can expect my new Eastern redbud to live about twenty-five years (less if planted in full sun), and I have a hard time comprehending it. Because it's a tree. A tree! In my head, I'm pretty convinced trees live forever.
Seasonal change today. Switched out the flannel sheets for cotton, put a linen slipcover over the velvety couch, and later today will put away winter clothes and bring out the sundresses and tank tops. I know Chicago likes to be whimsical with its weather, and perhaps it will punish me with a freak snowstorm in late May, but I am daring the shift anyway. Because I couldn't bear to sit on my couch or sleep in my bed otherwise.